Dress ​Your Family in Corduroy and Denim 4 csillagozás

David Sedaris: Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim David Sedaris: Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim

Vigyázat! Cselekményleírást tartalmaz.

David Sedaris plays in the snow with his sisters. He goes on vacation with his family. He gets a job selling drinks. He attends his brother's wedding. He mops his sister's floor. He gives directions to a lost traveller. He eats a hamburger. He has his blood sugar tested. It all sounds so normal, doesn't it? In his new book David Sedaris lifts the corner of ordinary life, revealing the absurdity teeming below its surface. His world is alive with obscure desires and hidden motives – a world where forgiveness is automatic and an argument can be the highest form of love. Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim finds one of the wittiest and most original writers at work today at the peak of his form.

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Abacus, London, 2004
258 oldal · ISBN: 9780349116709

Kedvencelte 1

Várólistára tette 2

Kívánságlistára tette 3


Kiemelt értékelések

entropic P>!
David Sedaris: Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim

Nem olyan hangosan vinnyogósan vicces, mint a Me Talk Pretty One Day, de azt már régen olvastam, úgyhogy az is lehet, hogy Sedaris nem változott, csak belőlem lett savanyú vénasszony 5 év alatt.

Na jó, ez utóbbi talán nem igaz.

De szerintem Sedaris se változott sokat – ebben a kötetben is jó kis önfikázó, család-gúnyoló, egyszerre hétköznapi és abszurd írások (történetmesélő, félig-fiktív esszék, leginkább) szerepelnek. Most mégsem tartottam annyira szórakoztatónak ezt az egészet. Az önfikázós vonulattal nincs bajom, de a családtagok életének (akár humoros, akár fikciósított) kiteregetésével kicsit igen, főleg, ha a családtagok kifejezik ellenérzéseiket ezzel kapcsolatban. (Ha más nem, 5 év alatt jóval mániákusabb magánélet-védő lettem, és az se szerez örömet, ha mások magánéletét írja meg valaki, még akkor se, ha egy csomó dolgot fikciósít közben.)

Andrees>!
David Sedaris: Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim

Ahogy olvastam, egyre több értelmet nyert a cím. Sedaris valami mesterien „vetkőzteti le” a családját, hogy észre se veszi az ember. Nekem most eléggé olyan érzésem van, hogy többet tudok a Sedaris famíliáról, mint a sajátomról. A humora pedig gusztustalan pár helyen, valahol pedig a leghalványabb humorfoszlányka csak, de mindig megnevettet. A metrón ülők pedig csak néznek, hogy na ez is hülye- pornót olvas, mert mi másért lenne egy meztelen baba az elején, és még röhög is rajta…


Népszerű idézetek

BrigiHudacsko I>!

While eight flying reindeer are a hard pill to swallow, our Christmas story remains relatively dull. Santa lives with his wife in a remote polar village and spends one night a year traveling around the world. If you're bad, he leaves you coal. If you're good and live in America, he'll give you just about anything you want. We tell our children to be good and send them off to bed, where they lie awake, anticipating their great bounty. A Dutch parent has a decidedly hairier story to relate, telling his children, „Listen, you might want to pack a few of your things together before going to bed. The former bishop of Turkey will be coming tonight along with six to eight black men. They might put some candy in your shoes, they might stuff you into a sack and take you to Spain, or they might just pretend to kick you. We don't know for sure, but we want you to be prepared.”
This is the reward for living in the Netherlands. As a child you get to hear this story, and as an adult you get to turn around and repeat it. As an added bonus, the goverment has thrown in legalized drugs and prostitution – so what's not to love about being Dutch?

Six to Eight Black Men. p. 163.

BrigiHudacsko I>!

The picture [ The End of the Affair ] ended at about ten, and afterward we went for a coffee at a little place across the street from the Luxembourg Gardens. I was ready to wipe the movie out of my mind, but Hugh was still under its spell. He looked as tough his life had not only passed him by but paused along the way to spit in his face. Our coffee arrived, and as he blew his nose into a napkin, I encouraged him to look on the bright side. „Listen,” I said, „maybe we don't live in wartime London, but in terms of the occasional bomb scare, Paris is a pretty close second. We both love bacon and country music, what more could you possibly want?”
What more could he want? It was an incredibly stupid question and when he failed to answer, I was reminded of just how lucky I truly am. Movie characters might chase each other through the fog or race down the stairs of burning buildings, but that's for beginners. Real love amounts to withholding the truth, even when you're offered the perfect opportunity to hurt someone's feelings. I wanted to say something to this effect, but my hand puppets were back home in their drawer. Instead, I pulled my chair a few inches closer, and we sat silently at our little table on the square, looking for all the world like two people in love.

The End of the Affair. pp. 139-140.

BrigiHudacsko I>!

When my sisters and I eventually left home, it seemed like a natural progression – young adults shifting from one environment to the next. While our departures had been relatively painless, Paul's was like releasing a domestic animal into the wild. He knew how to plan a meal but displayed a remarkable lack of patience when it came time for the actual cooking. Frozen dinners were often eaten exactly as sold, the Salisbury steak amounting to a stickless meat Popsicle. I phoned one night just as he was leaning a family pack of frozen chicken wings against the back door. He'd forgotten to defrost them and was now attempting to stomp the solid mass into three 6-inch portions, which he'd stack in a pile and force into his toaster oven.
I heard the singular sound of boot against crystallized meat and listened as my brother panted for breath. „Goddam… fucking… chicken… wings.”
I called again the following evening and was told that after all that work, the chicken had been spoiled. It tasted like fish, so he threw it away and called it a night. A few hours later, having decided that spoiled chicken was better than no chicken at all, he got out of bed, stepped outside in his underpants, and proceeded to eat the leftovers directly from the garbage can.
I was mortified. „In your underpants?
„Damned straight,” he said. „I ain't getting dressed up to eat no fish-assed-tasting chicken.”

Rooster at the Hitchin' Post. pp. 167-168.

BrigiHudacsko I>!

Hugh and I have been together for so long that in order to arouse extraordinary passion, we need to engage in physical combat. Once, he hit me on the back of the head with a broken wineglass, and I fell to the floor pretending to be unconscious. That was romantic, or would have been had he rushed to my side rather than steeping over my body to fetch the dustpan.

The End of the Affair. p. 139.


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