Book Review: Holidays on Ice

I must admit that I tend to have a complicated relationship with the holiday season. Besides the commercialism, the greed, and the ruthless behavior (a Wal-Mart employee was actually killed on Black Friday by members of a stampeding crowd), there is also the manufactured, maudlin, feel-good songs and specials to contend with. This can be particularly unnerving for people who work in the service industry; while murderous, bargain-crazed shoppers are not typically the norm (I hope), retail workers must deal with some very unhappy, loud customers (after working 7+ Christmases in retail, I have faced more than a few). Unfortunately, all of the sweetness and light offers little comfort.

That is where David Sedaris comes into play. His book, Holidays on Ice, which has just been reissued with several more essays (most of which have been previously published in Sedaris's other works), offers a much-needed respite from the saccharine cheer often found during the month of December. Made up of reminisces from his experiences as well as several fictional essays, Holidays on Ice emphasizes the needless craziness and shallowness of the holidays. However, it isn't an entirely caustic depiction of the Christmas season.

While I haven't read the newest edition of the book, I have read the 1998 edition several times. The main attraction of the book is "The Santaland Diaries," Sedaris's account of his employment as an elf at Macy's in New York. This essay is what catapulted Sedaris to fame after it first appeared on NPR, and it stands up to multiple rereadings. In addition to Sedaris's hilarious description of his various exploits (such as when he tells shoppers that they can see Cher if they stand on the magic star) to his perceptions of the different Santas and elves that he worked with, he also offers some heart that helps temper the cynicism. The same is also true "Dinah, the Christmas Whore," an essay about Sedaris's childhood, in which he gains some insight into his older sister's life away from the family.

The other essays in the book are of the fictional/ satirical bent, and some are more successful than others. Given my theatre geek tendencies, it is unsurprising that my favorite is "Front Row Center with Thaddeus Bristol," in which an angry theatre critic harshly reviews the Christmas pageants at local elementary schools. It balances the bombast of some theatre critics while also satirizing the trite fare offered during the holidays. The remaining three essays, "Based Upon a True Story," "Christmas Means Giving," and "Season's Greetings to Our Friends and Family!!" are funny, but I don't find them quite as successful as the rest of the book. Specifically, "Season's Greetings" and "Based Upon" are a little too harsh for even my tastes.

While the essays are a little uneven in quality, Holidays on Ice is definitely worth reading (or rereading) during this time of the year. The balance between sweet and sour makes it a refreshing antidote to the syrupy concoctions that abound during the month of December and reminds us that often there is something inherently funny in the insanity surrounding the holidays. It is worth noting that the new edition of the book contains several new essays, some of which relate to Christmas and some which have to do with other holidays (namely Halloween and Easter). While all but one of these newly included essays have been previously published in Sedaris's other books, this new edition is definitely worth a look, if only because it contains the hilarious "Six to Eight Black Men," which certainly deserves a place in the Sedaris holiday canon.

Review: Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant

For no apparent or conscious reason, I've been reading a lot of books about food. The first is Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant: Confessions of Cooking for One and Dining Alone, which a good friend got for me. As the title suggests, the book consists of essays about the joy (or burden) of cooking for one and eating alone. At age 14, I became the queen of eating alone, and I thoroughly enjoyed the book. From an ode to asparagus to the challenge of cooking in a tiny apartment to the demise of a favorite restaurant, the essays capture the essence of what it is like to deal with the solitary meal.

The essays, by authors including Nora Ephron, M.F.K. Fisher, and Steve Almond, each approach the topic in a different way. Perhaps what is so intriguing is seeing how different people in different stages of life view the act of eating alone. People who are young and single find it disconcerting, but others with children and families find that eating alone is a rare luxury that should be savored. Several of the essays also include some intriguing recipes. While I haven't tried any of them, I am looking forward to the opportunity to making Il Tost (grilled cheese and ham sandwich, Italian style) and salsa rosa.

Like many collections of essays, this one can be uneven at times. However, there are far more hits than misses, and this book makes a wonderful companion for someone eating alone in a restaurant. It even makes a nice alternative for someone who eats the occasional solitary meal at home but wants to avoid the ubiquitous drone and flicker of the television set. Whether your idea of dining alone consists of eating ice cream directly from the carton or cooking a full meal and setting the table with place mats and candles, Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant serves an assurance that either option is perfectly fine.

Book Review: Ex Libris

Although I liked The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down, until recently I was unfamiliar with Anne Fadiman's essays. However, on a recent trip to the bookstore, one of the booksellers rhapsodized over Ex Libris, a collection of Fadiman's essays on books and reading. The bookseller's glowing description and excitement were almost tangible, and I found myself buying Ex Libris along with several other books. I found myself reading the book and finishing it three days after I started.

Ex Libris, which is Latin for "from the books of," is an incredibly fitting title for these essays. Since these essays are about books, this collection is literally "from the books of" Anne Fadiman. On the other hand, if you (like I) are not familiar with Latin, it is a seemingly incomprehensible title that has a slight whiff of intellectual superiority. This is not unlike the book itself. While Fadiman jokes about her family's prowess at academic minutiae, obsessive need to proofread menus, signs, and other books, and attempts to one-up each other finding esoteric words, I got (perhaps incorrectly) the feeling that behind the gentle self-mockery is a sense of self-satisfaction. Regardless of the difficulty of the question, the prices on the menu, or the obscurity of the words, the family prevails. Fadiman's acknowledgment that her family's eccentricities are annoying (at least to other people) seems to carry with it a great deal of pride (in a less literary work, the phrase "with great power comes great responsibility" would undoubtedly show up in regards to her family's intellectual gifts and the world's inability to fully comprehend them).

If I sound affronted by Fadiman's essays, please know that I mention these things with the knowledge of my own sense of both my academic snobbery and my shortcomings. As a lover of literature and learning, I wish that I had the discipline to create a book categorization system as compulsive as the one Fadiman describes. I too get annoyed at the more egregious typos and mistakes I see on signs. I share some of Fadiman's dispositions, particularly in terms of how to treat books (she encourages interacting with them, annotating them, and even occasionally using them to the point of destruction) and her obsession with literary meals. However, I also realize that I am not a grammar or style savant (readers of this blog will be able to attest to this) nor do I have the wherewithal to presume and correct everyone else's spelling and diction mistakes. Consequently, when I notice the aura of intellectual smugness in Ex Libris, perhaps I am just acknowledging my own smugness and my inability to completely embrace it.

With all of that said, it is a compulsively readable book. It is a thought-provoking collection of essays that causes the reader to reflect on his or her own relationship with books and compare it (favorably or unfavorably) with Fadiman's. Furthermore, even if I do get a bit of an inferiority complex with faced with Fadiman's academic quirks and compulsions, they also make me feel a little bit more normal (especially when I cringe upon seeing misused possessives).

Book Review: When You Are Engulfed in Flames

Humor in almost any form (film, music, print) is difficult to navigate. While a certain percentage of people may laugh at anything, most people are more discriminating. Smart humor is an even more slippery slope, but no one negotiates it better than David Sedaris. His ability to take the remarkable and the pedestrian and find humor in both is unique and much harder than many people realize. Translating that humor into writing is even more difficult, but he does it and does it well.

At his best, Sedaris is able to evoke laughter from his readers while also causing them to think about what they have just read. Reactions often range from relief that the event in question has not happened to them to the dawning realization (or horror) that they have been in a similar situation. Past essays such as "Dinah, the Christmas Whore," "Rooster at the Hitching Post," and "Baby Einstein" all find the balance between being funny and being reflective without falling into the writer's sand trap of bathos.

If the essays in When You Are Engulfed in Flames do not always reach the giddy heights of Sedaris's past works, they still have the wry, trenchant humor that has made Sedaris famous. From discussing his fashion mishaps (shopping in the women's department with his sister) to detailing his attempts to stop smoking, Sedaris's wit is as sharp as ever. Perhaps the most noticeable difference between Sedaris's earlier works (Naked, Me Talk Pretty One Day, etc.) and When You Are Engulfed in Flames is a prominent shift in subject matter. While many of the essays in his other books are about growing up and dealing with his various family members, this book focuses more on Sedaris's present. Hugh, his boyfriend, plays a more prominent role in these essays, while Amy, Lisa, Paul, and the rest of the Sedaris clan are the featured players.

This approach is not, by any means, a bad thing. Instead, it offers readers a different perspective on Sedaris and his world, and it allows Sedaris more time for self-exploration and social commentary. Furthermore, the essays in When You Are Engulfed in Flames build upon the traits that Sedaris discusses about himself (and his family) in his other works. "The Smoking Section" makes an interesting follow-up to Naked's "A Plague of Tics." Lisa's reaction in "It's Catching" is more understandable after reading "Repeat After Me" in Dress Your Family... Consequently, Sedaris's new book is able to give readers a new look at the author while also expanding upon ideas and themes in his past books. This is not necessarily a kinder, gentler David Sedaris, but it is a look at his adult life that we haven't seen before. While I would like to hear more about his brother Paul and niece Madelyn (whom Sedaris has said he would not write about), I am enjoying the new view of Sedaris's world.