For the uninitiated (a group I belonged to before I bought this book based on a recommendation) this book is a collection of... well, actually, I'm not entirely sure what I'd call them. According to the small print guff at the front of the book, these... pieces of creative writing, for want of a better term... were originally published in various magazines, newspapers and the like or broadcast on the radio, but they're not really essays or articles or stories or even anecdotes, really.

It's a collection of almost entirely random ramblings about not very much, to be honest, and at several points throughout the book I found myself wondering whether I actually gave a shit about anything he was talking about.

That's not to say some of these pieces aren't funny. Some of them had me laughing aloud, which is a good sign, I suppose. I even agreed with him on a couple of points; most notably about the seeming pointlessness of certain languages that will insist on everything having a gender. I have the deepest respect for my French and German chums but, for the love of Cthulhu, I will never understand their languages' insistence that items with absolutely no sexual organs must have a gender identity! It's not Mr. Kettle or Mrs. Kettle! It's just a sodding kettle! It hasn't got a penis OR a vagina! Don't be so bloody lazy and come up with a gender neutral pronoun already! (My apologies to anybody reading this whose surname is Kettle.)

Anyway, this largely irrelevant rant aside, this book does succeed in being funny in places but it's more than a little incoherent and... yes, I'm overtired and grumpy enough to say it... pretty pointless, really. I do realise this opinion means I'm not 'hip' or whatever the folks who are so young the fact they're going to die one day hasn't really sunk in yet are calling it this year.

If, like me, you're not entirely averse to some pointlessness in your life, it's good for a giggle.

I'm going to put Mr. iPad down now and get into Mrs. Bed and try to get some Miss Sleep, because Madame Pain and Herr Insomnia can just about bloody well sod off at this stage...

My first foray into the world of David Sedaris was “Exploring Diabetes with Owls”, which is arguably one of his lowest rated books. I, however enjoyed it, and when I saw a kindle daily deal of all his books I decided to grab a bunch. I figured if I enjoyed his low rated book than subsequently his older books would only get better and better for me.

And it seems like my random haul paid off because I really loved this book. I feel like reading this in public would be a great idea for shy people who want more social interaction because strangers will undoubtedly go up to you to ask what has you laughing so loudly.

While at times the writing feels a little overly embellished, for the most part I adored this collection of stories and essays that mostly focused on David's attempts to learn the french language and his holidays in France. It was hilarious and I can't tell if it has made me more or less likely to try to attempt learning that language myself in the future.

Overall fun read, loved the bite sized chapters and would recommend this to anyone who enjoys dry and slightly dark humour. 4.5/5

Buy, Borrow or Bin Verdict: Buy

Check out more of my reviews here

I like funny stuff a lot. So much so, that I'm always on the lookout for a good quote to use as a timely comeback. I say this fully aware, that I will most probably end up misquoting it, and thus ruin the whole thing. But the principle of the thing stands: I read something hilarious, that might have related to this thing...probably.

Me Talk Pretty One Day is one of those books that sounded awfully preachy, based on its title alone. But then I stumbled on a totally hilarious audio excerpt, which all but blew my mind. Finally someone with the same questionable humour, that I had!



And boy did it start promising! A speech therapist compared to an evil secret service agent, intent on torturing our brave hero. And since no calamity comes alone, of course our mighty protagonist's teacher had to join in as well.

n
If I got up from my seat at 2:25, she'd say, "Sit back down, David. You've still got 5 minutes before your speech therapy session." If I remained seated until 2:27, she'd say, "David, don't forget you have a speech therapy session at 2:30." On the days I was absent, I imagined she addressed the room, saying, "David's not here today but if he were, he'd have a speech therapy session at 2:30."
n

Needless to say, that with two such heinous villains I was earnestly rooting for our intrepid hero to come up with creative ways to outsmart them. Making his weapon of choice a thesaurus, all but propelled him to the height of coolness.

n
After a few weeks of what she called “endless pestering” and what I called “repeated badgering”, my mother bought me a pocket thesaurus, which provided me with s-free alternatives to just about everything. I consulted the book both at home in my room and at the daily learning academy other people called our school. Agent Samson was not amused when I began referring to her as an articulation coach, but the majority of my teachers were delighted. “What a nice vocabulary,” they said. “My goodness, such big words!”
n

But after the end of the first chapter, my enthusiasm started to slowly but surely vane. For the most part, things tended to put me to sleep. This once again proves that no matter how humorously you paint your life, I just can't seem to muster up enough interest in it. Yes, I'm that horrible.

Jazz for instance, is one of those things that I just don't get. Every so often I try to listen to it for a few minutes, only to find my mind rebelling against its irregular rhythm, lack of chorus, and predictability in general.

Having had most of my artistic tendencies replaced with science-y pursuits early on, I can't say I relish the prospect of getting high in order to preen about my crappy drawings. Plus with my penchant for stressing over the weirdest crap, my experience would probably end up being totally dismal. Heck, I could feel my stress levels rising just reading about the author's irresponsible drug use.



Admittedly, my mood improved seriously when I got to the chapters relating to our protagonist's experiences in language school. Those stories, were pure gold, and they (partially) mirror my own language goals:

n
Though I have yet to use any of my new commands and questions, I find that, in learning them, I am finally able to imagine myself Walkman-free and plunging headfirst into an active and rewarding social life. That’s me at the glittering party, refilling my champagne glass and turning to ask my host if he’s noticed any unusual discharge. “We need to start an IV,” I’ll say to the countess while boarding her yacht. “But first could I trouble you for a stool sample?”
n

Note to self: insert creepy medical jargon into everyday conversation. Naturally.

Score: 3.3 /5 stars

I feel like if I ever need the perfect comeback, this book will provide it... if only I'll be patient enough to continue looking for it. Otherwise, thank you GoodReads for the quotes collection, because I'm so not rereading this anytime soon. The last 10% of the book took me 3 days to wade through, making me literally fall asleep 2 phrases in...