
I initially bought this book for my host mom for her birthday but due to a very sad and estranged relationship with her husband, my host dad, who did not give her a present, I decided I would stay out of things and not give her anything as well. So I kept and I read it. My past history with David Sedaris, who writes regularly for The New Yorker, has been off and on. My first impression of him was that he was not a very good writer but he did have a unique ability to turn an everyday, mundane situation into an enjoyable read. His most recent New Yorker appearance though was a stark improvement in his writing and what actually made me decide that my host mom might like him. This book is nowhere near genius but Sedaris’ candor is somewhat absorbing. He’s super gay and kinda flaunts his partner throughout the book but if you can get past that then the book will, in the least, entertain you, which I think is all it really tries to achieve.
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