By Sara Mortimer
Daily Bruin Contributor
David Sedaris appeared before a sold-out Royce Hall last
Thursday, and within seconds it became difficult to hear his
laid-back, nasal voice above the audience’s laughter.
Sedaris, known most recently for his best-selling collection of
comical autobiographical essays, “Me Talk Pretty One
Day,” made his debut as a contributor to National Public
Radio’s “Morning Edition.” Since then, he has
been a frequent commentator on the program, as well as on Public
Radio International’s “This American Life.”
“Me Talk Pretty One Day” follows on the heels of his
two bestselling books, “Barrel Fever” and
“Naked,” and his collection of Christmas-themed
stories, “Holiday on Ice.”
A casual and dimly lit conversation with fiction writer Bernard
Cooper constituted the first half of the program. Cooper opened the
discussion by asking Sedaris to read a journal entry that he
originally read in front of an audience in Philadelphia two weeks
after September 11.
Sedaris evoked an uproar of laughter as he read from the entry,
which responded to the elaborate last will and testament that
hijacker Mohammed Atta left behind.
In the list of instructions, Atta prohibits any “person
who is not clean” or any “pregnant woman” from
attending his funeral. Sedaris responded in his piece by saying, if
it were up to him, and if there were a body left to bury, he would
“cut it up, wrap it in a fishnet stocking” and send it
to its rest at a “Jewish maternity ward for unwed
mothers.”
Laughter continued as Sedaris responded to questions relating to
his stint as a conceptual artist and the tidbits of experience he
includes in his daily journal.
Sedaris revealed that he likes to record daily oddities that he
comes across, like a “Braille pad at a drive through
ATM.” Sedaris concluded that these detailed journal entries
make up material that can be plugged into stories.
The first segment of Sedaris’ appearance included a fine
balance between Sedaris’ expected humor and the personal
anecdotes that reveal the route of a successful artist. He touched
upon the material found in his published work in addition to how
his family copes with being written about. He also discussed how he
started writing and how he approaches the craft.
During the second segment, Cooper left the stage and Sedaris
stood to read a few of his pieces, shifting from satirical to plain
funny.
The most entertaining of these was called “Six to Eight
Black Men,” in which Sedaris recounts his inquiries into
various cultural practices. Among the things that interest Sedaris
are gun laws in the U.S. and the ways in which families in Europe
celebrate Christmas.
His stories reinforce the absurdities that exist among various
laws and social practices and at the same time show how random and
nonsensical they can be.
Another amusing piece, written for Esquire’s style issue,
describes a personal accessory that Sedaris stumbled upon called
the “Stadium Pal” (better known as an external
catheter). This image, among the many brought to light by Sedaris
that night, was a favorite with most of the audience.
The two-part structure of Sedaris’ appearance was an
agreeable mixture for the evening. The conversation between Sedaris
and Cooper seemed spontaneous and provided engaging details about
Sedaris’ writing. The second half of the reading kept the
crowded Royce Hall in almost continuous laughter.
At the evening’s end, only one person expressed relief.
“The only two places I was nervous about was Yale and
here,” Sedaris said to the audience. “I don’t
know about you, but I’m glad it’s over.”