David Sedaris read at The Landmark Theater here in Syracuse Thursday night…the ticket was 22 bucks. And that was the cheapest ticket.
Being surrounded by literary nerds is like being surrounded by video game nerds, giddy spectators rush to their seats, paying zero attention to the rude flashlight-bearing ushers, and when the lights finally dimmed, a hush fell over the crowd with fleeting random shushes coming from the most eager audience members.
Then, he walks out on stage. Nope…it’s just the introducer who no one listens too and practically gets booed off stage in hopes that Sedaris will sprint to replace this lowly man. Finally, a short, mild man trots to the single podium, a glass and a bottle of water sits on a stool right next to it. He plants himself behind the podium, the biggest movement of the night is when he shuffles his papers in preparation for the next reading.
Now, Sedaris is no stand up comedian, but did I really pay $22 to listen to him motionlessly read a few essays? Yes, I did…and it was damn worth it. I could have listen to the same thing on a CD, it would have had the same effect, and I would have paid $22 for it. Instead, I get to watch him read, from behind a podium, hundreds of feet away, next to some sweaty fidgety guy, while ushers whisper loudly to the few late stragglers.
Still worth it.
Sedaris is a literary mastermind, his clever word choice and memorizing plots seem to capture the essence of absurdity in everyday life. The first essay he read was a six-year-old fictional story of a eager family one-uping their neighbors every Christmas. “Christmas means giving” is the family’s motto, who is burdened with an indoor tennis court and rifle range, too burdened in fact to actually give anything to the “Inner City Headache Fund” while boosting the $1 donation anyway.
Although the story is six years old, it still rings true while a credit crisis and recession rips through the country’s anti-thrift mode. The families are willing to give up things like a lung and eyeballs, but never cold hard cash. Sedaris is clever in that he never actually tells us why they won’t give money, but we can only assume its because they’ve spent it all on themselves. Hilarity ensues after each one-liner describes the laundry list of ridiculous sacrifices they make in the sprit of giving.
Sedaris read passages from Syracuse resident, George Saunders’ “Ask the Optimist.” This very act is surprising, but welcomed by the audience and, I’m sure Saunders, who seemed to be sitting in among the pleased audience. The quick passages, told in Sedaris’ nerdy, nasal, slightly higher pitched voice than one would expect, broke up the evening. In the form of “Dear Abby,” a fictional reader asks a question to the “Optimist.” The first was about a readers love of bonnets and her husband who just bought a convertible, another included a reader feeling sad when visiting the zoo because the animals are sitting in their own feces, another described a turkey who felt he was a man stuck in the turkey’s body. Sedaris couldn’t have picked a better author to read.
Both authors take essential mundane assumptions and elevated it to the level of reality that is never thought of, to bring to the surface fundamental truths that are just plain hilarious.
Author readings are as exciting as watching a train pass by, but Sedaris seemed to keep even the most squirmy ticket holder (me) at bay and entertained. No pulpy literary language, just simple ideas written well.
Now I can cross “attend a nerd convention” off my list.
