Sedaris offers his view of the world along with late night therapy sessions in "Let’s Explore Diabetes With Owls"
David Sedaris seems like the only man in the world who tries to befriend his dentists and give a telemarketer his phone number so they may call him back just to talk. In his latest book released in 2013, Let’s Explore Diabetes With Owls, short essays are shared through Sedaris’s personal experiences shining light on his dry, observational humor in the events of his youth. But, to call it a book only seems fit because of its physical appearance in one. To name a few, Mr. Sedaris elaborates on living in France, the modern way to raise children, kookaburras, handing out condoms to his readers, sea turtles and their relevance in his life. Just as easily, the topics could have been pulled out of a hat.
These matter-of-fact stories cannot be categorized as Sedaris hunts down a taxidermied barn owl for Valentines Day, but ends up poking a stuffed human arm instead, or how he thinks out loud when mentioning all the countries he’s visited. The recurring subjects of his family, his travels, and his life partner Hugh intertwine for some cohesiveness, although not on purpose. There's no sense of urgency; his writing mirrors a lackadaisical afternoon of having no where else to be as narrations continue about getting older through growing up.
Resentment of Sedaris’s youth lies beneath the candid, and wry, moments of life that have stayed with him throughout his years. A reader is subtly whiplashed between his light-hearted way of expressing his desolate childhood being closeted in the 1960s, only to feel the kinks in their neck after the read.
His family makes quite a few guest appearances, particularly his father, who is the stereotypical '60s businessman. “Memory Laps,” reviews the ill will of when Sedaris was ten how Greg, the boy at the country club, matched Sedaris senior’s fantasy and definition of a son and how certainly still bothered him. Each story of how he disappointed his father gives off the feeling you’re at a passive-aggressive family reunion.
The sick honesty makes his dialogue lovable. His comfort in being uncomfortable leaves you somewhat indifferent in your own self while reading it. Granted some writings are more memorable than others. His story, “Rubbish” probably won’t come to mind as he explains in twelve pages how much he obsessed over picking up trash in West Sussex. But, “Day In, Day Out,” certainly will with the story of Sedaris’s 31 years of diary keeping. He reviews himself while looking through old diaries, “I wanted to deny him, but that’s the terrible power of a diary: it not only calls forth the person you used to be, but rubs your nose in him.”
Sedaris is not a man of wisdom shining light onto the reader like an old man might, but he certainly isn’t wasting your precious time either. His fireside chats aren’t ones of complete nonsense as he explains the fears within him and his love/hate thoughts on the general public. His overcompensation of thoughts are human. His humor is highly smirk worthy. The therapy sessions come free of charge with every book.
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