Usually, after I read the latest David Sedaris book, I am amused for a day or two. This last one, Calypso, gutted me for a day or two. Or, more like a week or two, since I'm still thinking about it.
Calypso is the one I ordered in German. A reminder: “Tiffany ... Cool. Stoned. Hacke. Durchgeknallt.” (It's notable that the first words I read were about his sister Tiffany.)
After I got the English version, I started reading, expecting the usual David Sedaris book. I had already read the lovely essay about the fox: that was typical fare. I wasn't prepared to have him bump up the stakes in Calypso.
Did you think you knew the Sedaris family from all the other books? No. You might have had a few hints, but no, not really. There are some just gut-wrenching revelations. And he crafts it and weaves it in so skillfully. It's remarkable. There's a theme. And who knows, there might have been themes in all of his other books, but those themes didn't resonate with me.
You might think you know me, too, but I have my own “Tiffany” about whom you hear very little. I don't know if I could ever be as frank about that as he is. Maybe someday.
Again, go read Calypso, a real memoir instead of this craven blog.