The Blogazine

An Evening With David Sedaris

Those who have read his work know that David Sedaris was many things before he became a best-selling author: a college dropout, a lousy teacher, a struggling house cleaner, a crack addict, conceptual artist, personal assistant, closet homosexual and, most famously, an elf at Macy’s. Readers know this because, like many writers―Bukowski, Vonnegut, and Brautigan jump to mind―his personal failures and professional shortcomings are the subject and scrutiny of nearly all of his writing. His shortcomings, it turns out, are key to his success.

Mr. Sedaris got his start as a writer in Chicago, where Ira Glass spotted him reading from his diary at a nightclub and invited him to do something on his then radio show, The Wild Room. He came to life in the pubic eye as a frequent contributor to This American Life and NPR. He is among the small rank of authors who have managed to transcend the sturdy boundaries of those shows. His 1992 story “The SantaLand Diaries” made him a minor celebrity and painted a picture of himself that’s become emblematic of his work: That of the outsider, the dumb-ass, the frustrated loser. The idiot who has no talent and looks to the other side of the pendulum with a mix of frustration, jealousy, and bitter reserve.

His real talent is that he does this with humor, humbleness, and with a strong sense of humility. Which is a surprise once you realize that all of his books since 1994’s Barrel Fever have hit #1 on the New York Times Best Seller list. (His sister Amy once said that he seriously believes that each book he releases will be his last.) But it’s not surprising to anyone who’s read his work: He’s a fantastic, morally-driven storyteller who’s spent the better part of his career mining embarrassing situations for comedic gold. Family reunions, neighbor’s bathrooms, nudist colonies, his mother with cancer―no scenario is too taboo or off-topic, a characteristic that has sometimes landed him in hot water even within his own family. He’s also self-aware. He once said, after being asked what type of animal he’d likely be, that he’d “probably be a vulture because I pick the flesh off of other people’s experiences. It’s not very flattering, but I have to be honest with myself. I think probably any writer would be a vulture. I don’t think I’m unique in that regard. I think all writers exploit everyone and everything. That’s why you don’t want writers as friends.”

He’s often been asked if his success poses a threat to his work. Everyone wants to hear about a failed drug addict’s problems, but what about a wealthy writer’s? In other words; what does the loser write about if he’s no longer the loser? That doesn’t appear to be a problem for Sedaris, whose most recent book, Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk, deals with animals committing all kinds of social faux pas. And the majority of his non-fiction continues to examine his life in a similar context: living in France with his boyfriend Hugh, giving up smoking, and pissing off his family by exploiting them for his career. So, sure, he’s found success, but he’s still as wildly insecure and hopeless as the rest of us. Best of all, he’s still not happy. Problems come in all shapes and sizes, but it’s often how we deal with them that matters most. Not all of us have the sense to find humor in the drudgery of reality. For that we have David Sedaris, and we are thankful.

An Evening With David Sedaris at at Brooklyn Academy of Music (BAM), May 7th, May 8th.