Sedaris' wit is better in his voice

David Sedaris is a funny, funny guy, and for those of us who've enjoyed listening to his essays on public radio, there can be a bit of a disconnect when we encounter his essays on the printed page.

At least, that has been my experience, although clearly I'm in the minority, as his new book, "When You Are Engulfed in Flames," sits at the top of the best-sellers list. But half the joy in Sedaris' sardonic essays about his life and experiences is in his own voice -- sometimes snide, sometimes sad.

It was with my fondness of Sedaris' literal voice in mind that I happily downloaded the new book in audio form from www.audible.com. It did not disappoint.

Sedaris' life adventures and his observations of the mundane turned ridiculous have been cataloged in several collections.

There's something just so dry, matter-of-fact and ironic in his tone that you can't help laughing out loud.

And let's be clear: We're laughing both with Sedaris and at him. After all, he's exploring his own neuroses in ways that are both very familiar and so alien.

One essay, "Buddy, Can You Spare a Tie?" starts with a brief reflection on childhood clothing and Halloween costumes, segues through his fashion rules -- which themselves wander in comically digressive loops through the difficulty of choosing new eyeglasses to the folly of wearing a fake fanny to better round out the backside of one's slacks -- and winds up with his father's urging him to wear a bow tie to a family wedding.

Sedaris clearly has a gift for recognizing the nuttiest person in any situation, from an airline seatmate who excoriates him for not giving up his seat to her husband in another row, to Helen, the profane, busybody neighbor who brought gifts of inedible food and had an unkind word for most everyone. But his favorite victim for deprecation is himself, most often portrayed as neurotic, goofy, ugly and in all cases, homosexual to the extreme.

He and his partner, Hugh Hamrick, now live mostly in France. Some of the more engaging essays are set there, including one in which Sedaris explores his perplexity with finding a comfortable relationship with a neighbor, shunned by the village for abusing a stepchild, who returns from prison and has no one to talk to except the hapless Sedaris.

His own family, from Raleigh, N.C., continues to provide grist for Sedaris' mill, with his parents and many siblings serving as foils for various adventures (his sister Amy, in particular, eggs him into silly situations such as shopping in the juniors' department).

Among my favorite essays in this collection is "That's Amore," which traces his relationship with Helen, the aforementioned busybody neighbor at his apartment in New York City.

"Like the rats that spilled from the gangway, she was exactly the type of creature I'd expected to find living in New York: arrogant, pushy, proudly, almost fascistically opinionated, she was a person you found yourself quoting at dinner parties, especially if your hosts were on the delicate side and you didn't much care about being invited back," he writes. The essay's ending had me laughing through tears.

Another bright spot is "In the Waiting Room," in which Sedaris belittles himself for his lack of language comprehension in his adopted land of France. This essay, delivered before a live audience, involves him using a single phrase that means "I am in agreement" in a variety of situations where the phrase wasn't quite suitable. He winds up sitting in a doctor's waiting room in his underpants, next to a nicely (and fully!) dressed couple who ignore his near-nakedness.

In yet another essay, Sedaris finds himself having his first impressions of a well-dressed older couple on a plane dashed by their profane language, which he then embroiders on to hilarious effect.

The audio has been engineered with amusing sound effects between each essay, most of them to do with the idea of smoking, a subject that fills the longest essay, in which Sedaris details his lifelong smoking habit and how he broke it.

The whole package makes for outstanding listening.

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An Earful of Words appears on the first and third Sundays of each month. Call 361-4930 or e-mail susan.rife@heraldtribune.com.