Bayou Pages | “Calypso” by David Sedaris

review by Meredith McKinnie

“Happiness is harder to put into words. It’s also harder to source, much more mysterious than anger or sorrow, which come to me promptly, whenever I summon them, and remain long after I’ve begged them to leave.”

When I want to laugh, I turn to author David Sedaris. In Calypso, his 10th collection of essays, Sedaris leans into the humor we know and love him for, but adds even more intimate details of his family life, including personal tragedy through his uniquely comedic lens. One of six siblings, Sedaris articulates his life in comparison to his siblings, a diverse group of characters that complicate and enrich his life. And for the first time, Sedaris touches on the suicide of his sister Tiffany, an event that shocked the family yet still felt predictable to David. As the author ages, he is more forthcoming with his own foibles, his identity, and his hilarious take on life as he lives it. What is comforting about Sedaris is his ability to not take himself too seriously. His intellect is welcoming, his humor is universal, and his experiences are recognizable. Who among us don’t feel alienated within our families, or frustrated by the hypocrisies and disappointments around us, or speak out loud that which we should probably keep to ourselves? Sedaris says what many of us think, and he’s willing to put it in print.  

As a writer, I always wonder if authors struggle with whom to include from their personal lives and in what ways. Sedaris leans into the idiosyncrasies of his family, lays each sibling and his father out honestly to the world. He notes how none of the siblings really look alike, yet they are clearly a family, as he notes when they’re traveling in Japan and all purchase absurd hats to wear around the city. The family loves shopping, and the activity brings them together, showcasing the collective in a group of individuals. Sedaris’ essays feature his obsession with his Fitbit, amassing 40,000 steps per day at his peak, using his jaunts to pick up trash along his English neighborhood. He talks openly about his struggle to connect with his father, a man who struggled to be emotionally present, yet was forced to play the part when Sedaris’ mother died of cancer in 1991. Sedaris notes about his relationship with his father, “We’re like a pair of bad trapeze artists, reaching for each other’s hands and missing every time.” Sedaris doesn’t shy away from noting the gaping hole left by his mother’s death, one that widened when his sister took her own life. And yet he manages to find the humor in it all, to not take himself too seriously, to engage his own befuddled humanity. 

If you appreciate humorous essays or want a light read that doesn’t shy away from life’s difficult realities, then pick up Calypso. As Sedaris has aged, his subject matter has as well. In a way he lectures about life without seeming like a lecturer, a welcome reprieve in this social environment. 

“You’re not supposed to talk about your good deeds, I know. It effectively negates them and in the process makes people hate you.”