«بالاخره یه روزی قشنگ حرف می زنم»، که عنوان پیشنهادی پیمان خاکسار برای کتاب «Me Talk Pretty One Day» است، کتاب خوبی نیست.
کتاب را احتمالا در قفسه ی جهان نوی نشر چشمه خواهید یافت. کتاب هایی که پیش تر کسی در موردشان نمی دانست و یک مترجم جوان و پر تلاش کشفشان کرد و به «فارسی زبان» ها معرفی اش کرد.
مسئله مثل این نیست که بگوییم این «فیلم» بد است از نظر من. برگردان داستان یا شعر، اثری جدید آفریدن است، و اکنون ما در مورد این «اثر جدید» می خواهیم صحبت کنیم؛ نه لزوما اصلِ اثر.
معتقدم حداقل انتظاری که از یک کتاب «طنزِ ترجمه» می رود، این است که متن باعث نشود شوخی های نویسنده را به زبان انگلیسی حدس بزنی، و بعد با خود فکر کنی طنز این جمله یا موقعیت در قالب اصلی اش احتمالا چه بوده.
شوخی های بیشتر داستان های کتاب، مستقیما به فرهنگ آمریکایی یا بازی با کلمات انگلیسی ارتباط دارد. تعداد معدودی از داستان ها هم با مفاهیم عمومی تری که طبعا برای ما ملموس تر است شوخی کرده بودند؛ که عملا همین داستان های معدود را قابل ترجمه باید دانست. باقی کتاب واقعا قابل ترجمه نبود و تجربه ی خواندن کتاب را این طور می کرد: این یارو چرا فکر می کنه اینقدر بامزه است؟
راوی کتاب، در زندگی هیچ چیز خاصی نشده. حتا افکار فلسفه-مانندی هم ندارد؛ برخلاف قهرمانان کتاب هایی از این دست، در مورد افرادی که هیچ پخی نشده اند، اما یک سری افکار خاص خودشان را دارند. مثلا دو کتابی که اخیرا در موردشان صحبت کرده ام، عامه پسند و در رویای بابل. یا حتا ناتور دشت. و همین افکار است که باعث می شود خواننده با قهرمان همزاد پنداری کند اصطلاحا. (یا فیلم هایی در مورد آدم های علافی که هیچ کاری نمی کنند و هیچ فکر خاصی هم ندارند، اما لااقل هیچ «ادعایی» هم ندارند، و همزاد پنداری مخاطبشان را به شدت برمی انگیزند؛ مانند فیلم های جاده ای وندرس یا جارموش)
در این کتاب اما همزاد پنداری کردن محال است! قهرمان هیچ ویژگی خاصی ندارد. حتا در بی عرضگی هم خاص نیست. در ادعای گزاف کردن هم خاص نیست. در بلند پروازی افتضاح است. پر ادعایی ظاهرا بی ادعا است. صبح تا شب وقتش را تلف می کند و خودش این را می داند. و مدام خودش را «بافرهنگ تر» از بقیه می پندارد.
مرا یاد آدم هایی در اطرافم می اندازد، که خود را آدم هایی می دانند متفاوت؛ از این جهت که، روشنفکری می کنند، اما سایر روشنفکران (روشنفکرنماها) را دست می اندازند. خود را بی ادعا می خوانند، در عینی که ادعاشان در قیاس کردن خود با دیگران آشکار می شود. خود برتر پنداری درونی شان. این آدم ها خود را «باهوش» می دانند. باهوش تر از بقیه. اما هیچ کاری با هوششان نکرده اند، و مثل قهرمان این کتاب، خودشان هم واقفند که «هیچ کاری نکرده اند، حقشان نیست که در این خرابه آجر جا به جا کنند، با این هوشی که دارند هر کاری از دستشان بر می آید. دارند تلف می شوند.» اما سال ها می گذرد و باز هم، هیچ کاری نکرده اند.
خود-خاص-پنداری این آدم ها باعث می شود تا کارهایی که همه دارند انجام می دهند را پایین تر از سطح خودشان بدانند و این دست کارها را انجام ندهند. و در حالی که توان (یا عرضه ی) انجامِ کارهایی را که در سطح خودشان می دانند هم ندارند. بنابراین «هیچ کاری» نمی کنند. فقط می گویند دارند «حیف» می شوند!

هیچ‌وقت مدافع سرسخت فرانسوی‌ها نبوده‌ام ولی واقعا باید به ملتی که تحت هیچ شرایطی موقع فیلم تماشا کردن حرف نمی‌زنند احترام گذاشت. من این‌جا کنار گروهی بچه مدرسه‌ای که به دیدن یک فیلم مزخرف بزن‌بکش آمده‌اند نشسته‌ام و حتی یک نفر لب از لب باز نکرده. آخرین باری که در یک سینمای آمریکایی سکوت را تجربه کردم یادم نیست. فکر کنم تماشاگران ما تمام روز حرف نمی زنند و تمام حرف‌هایشان را می‌گذارند برای وقتی که فیلم شروع می‌شود. یک بار در یک سینمای معمولی نیویورک زدم روی شانه‌ی مردی که جلوم نشسته بود و نقدش را قطع کردم و ازش پرسیدم که آیا می‌خواهد کل فیلم را حرف بزند؟ گفت: خب آره. چه طور مگه؟ بدوت این که در لحنش نشانی از شرمندگی یا عذرخواهی باشد. انگار که ازش پرسیده بودم قصد دارد خونش گردش داشته باشد یا هوا را به داخل ریه‌هایش بفرستد. ولم کن بابا چرا نباید حرف بزنم؟ از پشت سر جناب منتقد بلند شدم و کنار پیشگویی نشستم که با صدای بلند سرنوشت تک تک شخصیت‌های فیلم را می‌گفت، شخصیت‌هایی که روی پرده لب‌شان تکان می‌خورد. بعد هم یک زوج پیر آمدند که دائم فکر می‌کردند چیزی را از دست داده‌اند. هر بار غریبه‌ای که تا آن لحظه در فیلم دیده نشده بود در خانه‌ی کسی را می‌زد می‌پرسیدند: این کیه؟ می‌خواستم بهشان اطمینان بدهم که به موقع جواب سؤالاتشان را خواهند گرفت ولی چون اعتقاد دارم نباید سر فیلم حرف زد دوباره جا عوض کردم به این امید که وسط دو نفر بنشینم که یا خواب‌شان برده باشد یا مرده باشند.

از متن کتاب

Yes. I realize this book is supposed to be hilarious. Yes. I realize I'm not a hip gen-x'er if I don't happen to think it is. Yet...

I feel like Sedaris accurately summed up his entire approach to writing on page 44: "True art was based upon despair, and the important thing was to make yourself and those around you as miserable as possible." He meant this as satire, I'm sure...but what I found truly halarious was that he didn't even realize that he just described the book I was currently reading.

Upon describing his life, Sedaris wants you to think it's funny. In reality, it's just despair...and he wants you to go down the tubes with him.

I decided that reading this book was like sitting in a small space with someone who drones on and on about how horrible their life is. Normally in that situation you can get up and leave or tell them to shut up. In this case, all I could do was stop reading. So, out of respect for the friend that recommended it, I read exactly half (stopping midsentence)...then I told the author to shut up and dumped him in the library drop box.

The only funny part of this book was the brief chapter on poop. But even southpark can make that funny. Sedaris is supposed to be funny...I guess I'm un-hip and not a real Gen-x'er...because I find him miserable. He's pushed me back to reading and loving the classics one more time.

گرچه این کتاب در دایره یِ وسیع "طنز" نوشته شده و البته پرفروشِ بازار نشرِ مکتوباتِ انگلیسی زبان هایِ آمریکایی است اما برای خواننده یِ ایرانی ای که سال های ِ سال در دهه هفتاد و هشتاد میلادی در آمریکا نَزیسته و تجربه یِ یک آمریکائی یونانی تبار، مدتی مقیمِ فرانسه نبوده، اصلا و ابدا خنده دار و مفرح نیست، شک نکنید

Not for the first time, I wish I had a copy of this book near me right now so I could write down some quotes from it.
If I did, here's the three stories I'd quote from:
1. How Sedaris's sister, Amy, (also a hilarious author; see I Like You - Hospitality Under the Influence) got sick of her father obsessing over how she was letting her looks go, and donned a fatsuit when she went home for a visit. When I saw Amy Sedaris talk at a book signing, someone asked her about that story and she said that it was all true, and that she decided to get rid of the fat suit after her father slapped her hand away when he saw her reaching for a cookie.
2. Sedaris's adventures learning French, including the class he took where translations of students' conversations from French to English sound like something from a prison camp. ("Sometimes me cry at night.")
3. The time Sedaris rode the subway in Paris and stood next to an American couple who, mistaking him for a Frenchman who spoke no English, proceeded to discuss in loud voices how much the man standing next to them smelled. I especially liked Tourist Man's witty observation that "this froggy is ripe."

An archetypal curate's egg for me. A few parts very funny, the rest just pleasant and mildly diverting.

I heard Sedaris read some of his stories on the radio, and if I imagined his voice, intonation and pauses some of the stories seemed more amusing, also I noticed a slight 'warm-up' effect. I think if you were to hear him live he would be much funnier than he comes across on the page - at least in my opinionated opinion.

Having said that I really enjoyed the story about the pets his family had and now his mother treated their Great Dane dog as a lifestyle coach - taking naps with it on the sofa and after a good scratch, on the floor; later after the mother's death the father moves the dog up into the marital bed and they become an odd or not so odd couple growling at strangers. But then I like stories about animals, and I have a lot of sympathy to the idea of regarding hem as lifestyle coaches - why the cat is currently encouraging me to climb trees which is a highly beneficial form of exercise and intellectual stimulation.

The second half of the book is made up mostly of his stories about living in France and trying to learn French. There were all interesting, but the funny one was with the sadistic French teacher who spends her lessons insulting the students, until one day Sedaris realises that he can understand every word that she is saying and is completely delighted with his dramatic progress in learning French.

The first two stories struck me as being exactly the same - Sedaris comes into contact with a person that he finds unpleasant and they have to do something unpleasant together but ultimately her learns that they are flawed people struggling to make their way in an imperfect world, this in the end applies to all his stories, sometimes it's members of his family, sometimes it is Sedaris himself, under the humour, or possibly alongside there is desire to engage the reader's ( or auditor's) sympathy for odd people trying to do their best coming into difficult contact with other people trying to do the same.

One story recounted long day-dreams with which Sedaris diverts himself from time to time, this overlapped with The Snow Leopard which I am (or was if you are reading this in the future) reading now, Matthiessen's day dream was about being taken under the wing of a Lama in a remote Buddhist monastery and being allowed to light the butter light lamps for him, one of Sedaris' was about being somebody like Monica Lewinsky. Both Sedaris and Matthiessen also discuss the drug habits which were a serious part of their earlier lives. Again two flawed people trying to make their ways through an imperfect world.

I had better check if I need to climb a tree again.

دركل كتاب دوست داشتنى اى بود !

ولى به خاطر اينكه داره خاطرات پراكنده رو تعريف ميكنه و قرار نيست يه داستان واحد رو بگه اونجورى نيست كه جذبت كنه و بخواى ببينى چى ميشه!

فقط به عنوان يه كتاب طنز خوبه و چندتا از داستاناش خيلى خيلى بامزن

البته تو ترجمه فارسى به خاطر اينكه يه سرى جمله ها كه تو ترجمه طنزشو از دست ميده؛ باعث شده كه چند درجه از طنز كتاب كاسته شه! و من مدام بايد متن اصلى رو هم ميخوندم

يه فصل هم كه سانسور شده تو ترجمه!!!

اگه توانايى داريد كه انگليسيشو بخونين خيلى بهتر خواهد بود

بخاطر ريووهايي كه خونده بودم انتظار خنده هاي بيشتري داشتم، يه جاهاييش خيلي شيرين بود مث اونجاهايي كه سين و شينش ميزد يا اونجاهايي كه داشت زبان فرانسه ياد ميگرفت و سوتي هاي بامزه ش :))
دفترچه خاطرات ديويد سداريس بود درواقع.
خوب بود فقط همين :)


٩٨/١/١٩

I think this period, right around 2000, a little before and after, is David's best writing era. He seems to be at this best and most funny I think.

I love this collection. He has a multitude of stories about living in France with Hue. I love the peak into his experience of France or even NYC for that matter. His family plays a huge role in his stories as usual. I do wonder if he and Hue are still together. I would guess not, simply because he is famous and famous people rarely stick together.

He also has a funny story about being a writing teacher. I often wonder what real life would be like for him and how much is exaggerated for his writing or altered to create something funny. I know life is really weird and people strange, so there is probably a lot that happens to him, that is just like he says.

This collection had me laughing robustly. I thoroughly enjoyed this collection and I think it is my favorite outside of SantaLand diaries which can't be beat; so far. This tickled my funny bone, so I'm very happy. David is a nice relief from the stress of school right now. I will continue to read more of his stuff.

بالاخره یه روزی قشنگ حرف می‌زنم، جزو کتاب‌هایی بود و هست که من به ضرب و زور تمامش کردم. نه این‌که بد ترجمه شده باشه و یا این‌که بد نوشته شده باشد. این کتاب مجموعه‌ای‌ست از شوخی‌ها و طنازی‌ها با فرهنگ و خرده فرهنگ‌های حاکم بر جامعه‌های متفاوت کشور آمریکا. قاعدتاً من جهان سومی هر چقدر هم که این کتاب خوب ترجه شده باشه، چون با این خرده فرهنگ‌ها آشنایی ندارم، با اتمسفر این جامعه آشنایی ندارم، نمی‌توانم این طنازی‌ها و ظرافت‌ها را درک بکنم؛ حتی اگر خیلی هم زور بزنم که البته بیش‌تر به سخت‌تر شدن خوانش این کتاب انجامید
من نتوانستم با این کتاب ارتباط بگیرم. کتاب روز و روزگار من شهرونده تهران با دغدغه‌ها و زندگی در سال 1394 در شهر تهران نبود

Incredibly, this is the first Sedaris book I've read, and it more than lives up to the hype.

Calling him a humourist doesn't do him justice. Sure, he's read-aloud-to-your-friends funny, but he's also a shrewd social satirist and very, very smart, able to evoke the pain of childhood speech therapy classes, the humiliation of learning French as an adult, or the mortification of finding a huge turd in a friend's toilet (this latter story, by the way, is only in the abridged audio version of the book - I both listened to and read the complete book).

A couple of essays seem like filler, but the best – about learning jazz guitar from a little person, or being a drug-addled performance artist, or witnessing a down-home rube’s experience of Manhattan – are vivid, fresh and so casual-sounding you know they took a lot of effort.

Sedaris is so brilliant he even makes that overcooked routine – ordering food in a trendy, intimidating New York restaurant – into something genuinely funny.

And there's an emotional core to many of these essays too – particularly in ones involving his father, Lou, to whom the book is dedicated.

I recommend listening to the author himself read from the audiobook – his unmistakable, somewhat babyish voice adds layers to the text – and then picking up the book later, as I did, to savour the craft.

I can’t wait to read more of his books.

** UPDATE APRIL 2015: I did read another Sedaris book, the early volume  Barrel Fever, but wasn't as impressed **

I've been thinking a lot about this, and I have come to the conclusion that David Sedaris is one of the worst human beings in history, i.e., since human beings were first invented by an incompetent, Jerry Lewis-like god or by the inscrutable permutations of natural phenomena. This isn't a moral judgment. It's more like when someone tells you that you have spinach stuck in your teeth. It's both the mere reportage of a fact and a public service. Because, after all, you wouldn't want to walk around all day with spinach in your teeth, and you wouldn't want to spend your life mistakenly thinking that David Sedaris wasn't evil and unfunny.

Maybe I hate David Sedaris so much (abstractly; not with the visceral hatred I have for Mariah Carey) because I imagine all of these young straight couples in J. Crew worsted wool sweaters throwing back their heads like Mrs. Howell, laughing at his weak but fashionable humor. Maybe they're in their Toyota Highlanders driving out to Restoration Hardware to look at the brushed steel knobs and the faux-Victorian gewgaws. Have you been to Oak Brook? They probably live there and have heated floor tiles and towel warmers in their bathroom. The women all look like cut-rate Carolyn Bessette-Kennedys (before the plane crash), and the men look like the guy getting married in The Hangover.

David Sedaris is an entry-level gay for these people, right? They're all liberal, sure, but out in Oak Brook their gay contacts are limited to the service industry. The housewares clerk at Lord & Taylor, the hairdresser, or that one swishy waiter at Maggiano's who's stingy with the bread basket. You know, the usual A-Team of tanned men with shaved forearms and hyperreal hairdos.

What I am saying is that David Sedaris is a nice accessory. Sure, your grandparents might find some of his humor off-color or distasteful, but in the age of Sarah Silverman he's almost quaint. Anal sex (and its intimations) take on a Bombeckian glow in his hands. And that kerrunk, kerrunk sound you hear is Jean Genet rolling over in his grave (and masturbating on a pile of his own feces).

There are currently twenty-one people on my friends list who have rated this book. Only two have assigned it fewer than three stars. Defend yourselves, bourgeois scum. I mean that affectionately. You probably thought Bob Saget was funny on America's Funniest Home Videos too, didn't you?