Saturday, September 15, 2007

Me Talk Pretty One Day

Me Talk Pretty One Day Book Review


Back in 2005, I had a book called “50 Essays” for my rhetoric and composition class. The book was a compilation of essays that we had to respond on. Among those essays, there was one entitled Me Talk Pretty One Day, from David Sedaris. It was my second semester as a college student in the United States and although I liked literature, I read the essays just for the grade. No pleasure on reading those.

But that story in particular caused me to read it a second time.

In Me Talk Pretty One Day, Sedaris writes about his attempts to learn French. He describes the frustation of trying to learn a foreign language when simple daily tasks become a great challenge. Struggling. Trying to talk pretty. Perhaps, writing pretty one day.

Two years passed by and one day, at 5 am, while zombiying around in the Salt Lake City, I decided to run to the bookstore in search for anything to entertain myselft. I was waiting for a flight that would take to Portland, Maine.

As I complete my search through the magazine section unsuccessfully, I approach the book shelves and soon enough I saw a title I immediately recognized, Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris, sitting just next to Al Gore’s An Inconvenient Truth.

I flipped through the pages and although I had long wanted to read Al Gore’s book, I decided to purchase Sedaris’ instead.

I was tired, under rested and had a book on my hands and a pillow hanging off my backpack. Reading the book at that time did not seem like good idea, but I opened the book and read the first paragraph of an essay entitled “Go Carolyna.”

What a funny book!

Sedaris stories are so personal. He welcomes you into his family recounting tales with effortless wit. The stories contained in Me Talk Pretty One Day are unconventionally funny, yet simple and captivating. At the same time, Sedaris’ essays explore the human condition and family ties.

He has the ability of making you think you are one of his closest friends.
It’s like stumbling into a grocery shop in Manhattan and asking,

“Hey David, How’s Hugh doing?”

Me Talk Pretty One Day is the culmination of artistic spontaneity, quality writing and humor at its best.

Favorite tales include:

Go Carolina
Giant Dreams, Midget Abilities
See You Yesterday
Me Talk Pretty One Day
Jesus Shaves
The Tapeworm Is In
The Late Show

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Enjoy the reading of “Big Boy.”

Big Boy
by David Sedaris
(excerpt from Me Talk Pretty One Day)

It was Easter Sunday in Chicago, and my sister Amy and I were attending an afternoon dinner at the home of our friend John. The weather was nice, and he'd set up a table in the backyard so that we might sit in the sun. Everyone had taken their places, when I excused myself to visit the bathroom, and there, in the toilet, was the absolute biggest turd I have ever seen in my life - no toilet paper or anything, just this long and coiled specimen, as thick as a burrito. I flushed the toilet, and the big turd trembled. It shifted position, but that was it. This thing wasn't going anywhere. I thought briefly of leaving it behind for someone else to take care of, but it was too late for that. Too late, because before getting up from the table, I'd stupidly told everyone where I was going. "I'll be back in a minute," I'd said. "I'm just going to run to the bathroom."

My whereabouts were public knowledge. I should have said I was going to make a phone call. I'd planned to urinate and maybe run a little water over my face, but now I had this to deal with. The tank refilled, and I made a silent promise. The deal was that if this thing would go away, I'd repay the world by performing some unexpected act of kindness. I flushed the toilet a second time, and the big turd spun a lazy circle. "Go on," I whispered. "Scoot! Shoo!" I turned away, ready to perform my good deed, but when I looked back down, there it was, bobbing to the surface in a fresh pool of water. Just then someone knocked on the door, and I stated to panic.

"Just a minute."

At an early age my mother sat me down and explained that everyone has bowel movements. "Everyone," she'd said. "Even the president and his wife." She'd mentioned our neighbors, the priest, and several of the actors we saw each week on television. I'd gotten the overall picture, but natural or not, there was no way I was going to take responsibility for this one. "Just a minute." I seriously considered lifting this turd out of the toilet and tossing it out the window. It honestly crossed my mind, but john lived on the ground floor and a dozen people were seated at a picnic table ten feet away. They'd see the window open and notice something dropping to the ground. And these were people who would surely gather round and investigate. Then there I'd be with my unspeakably filthy hands, trying to explain that it wasn't mine. But why bother throwing it out the window if it wasn't mine? No one would have believed me except the person who had left it in the first place, and chances were pretty slim that the freak in question would suddenly step forward and own up to it. I was trapped.

"I'll be out in a second!"

I scrambled for a plunger and used the handle to break the turd into manageable pieces, all the while thinking that it wasn't fair, that this was technically not my job. Another flush and it still didn't go down. Come on, pal. Let's move it. While waiting for the tank to refill, I thought maybe I should wash my hair. It wasn't dirty, but I needed some excuse to cover the amount of time I was spending in the bathroom. Quick, I thought. Do something. By now the other guests were probably thinking I was the type of person who uses dinner parties as an opportunity to defecate and catch up on my reading.

"Here I come. I'm just washing up."

One more flush and it was all over. The thing was gone and out of my life. I opened the door, to find my friend Janet, who said, "Well, it's about time." And I was left thinking that the person who'd abandoned the huge turd had no problem with it, so why did I? Why the big deal? Had it been left there to teach me a lesson? Had a lesson been learned? Did it have anything to do with Easter? I resolved to put it all behind me, and then I stepped outside to begin examining the suspects

3 comments:

Rachel said...

Leandro!! you are an amazing writer! wow! well done friend!!

J said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Mercy A said...

I love your writing style. I hope that one day i will be able to write like you.

www.mercys-kenya.com