SEDARIS AT THE CIVIC

Last night, a friend with an extra ticket invited me to see David Sedaris at the Civic. Quite a crowd of costumed fans cheering as he walked on stage. Everyone was primed to laugh. Early in the reading, something went wrong with one of the speakers, so Sedaris excused himself to the audience and called off stage to see if he could get it adjusted. A huge percentage of the audience found this hilarious for some reason! If Sedaris is funny, this must be funny, too. Our culture's obsession with one-dimensional celebrity unnerves me -- gives me the creeps actually.

I did appreciate Sedaris' low-key demeanor as he read several stories, most of which I had heard before on This American Life or had read in The New Yorker. "Cat and Mouse" is an amusing parody of prison AA meetings and his story about a cab ride took some risks of offending PC sensibilities. Over all though, there's such sweetness to Sedaris, his tales always ending with some minor epiphany or bittersweet moment of self-revelation.

During his tours, he always recommends a book other than his own, in this case Susan Sheehan's 1983 "Is There No Place on Earth for Me." He read a section of the nonfiction account of a young New York woman suffering from schizophrenia and her grueling path through the public health system.

Interesting choice of reading material for Sedaris who has such a definite persona in his writing. Sheehan is old school journalism and tackles complicated social issues straight on -- no clever, lovable narrator; no tinkering with the facts to lead the reader to a satisfying conclusion. The book, which I read when it first came out, has masterful reporting and clear writing. Who can ever forget Sylvia Frumkin once they read her story? She's as powerful a character in her way as Raskolnikov. Still, it takes committment to get through the often agonizing material.

For me, Sedaris' most insightful moment last night came when he finished reading the section, looked right at the audience and said something like, "This is what I like about books, rather than life. When the story gets too much for you, you can take your bookmark like so, close the book and then go out and buy yourself something fun, like new shoes."

That got a big laugh of course. It strikes at our middle-class American hearts. We want to ease the suffering of others. I have to believe that we do; it's too paralyzing not to believe that. But we also want those new shoes.