Imagine the boy from
A Christmas Story. Now imagine he was born as queer as a three dollar bill in early 1960’s South Carolina as an alcoholic chain-smoking victim of the
Feminine Mystique mother and a Greek engineer father who is so detached he is emotionally frigid. Add many siblings, and stir. That’s
Holidays on Ice.
If you’ve never read any of David Sedaris’ other essays, or heard him on
NPR’s This American Life, I recommend that you prepare a quiet place and an eggnog cocktail heavily laced with brandy before embarking on this reading adventure. I prefer to read it in the tub while enjoying a glass of wine as I find it difficult to refrain from unexpected fits of bursting out laughter, snorting and the inevitable spray of spittle on things around me that comes with enjoying these dark comic vignettes.
This book should be consumed as the perfect antidote to the endless list of mundan

e chores that seemingly become ‘....The Holidays’. On the surface, these stories fit in with traditional holiday themes such as department store Santa’s, family ‘Christmas Greetings!’ form letters, and school winter pageants. However, Sedaris has a knack for recasting each bit of overdone holiday pomp as the absurdly hellish experiences of life that they so often are. It will be impossible for you not to spend the rest of the holiday season having secret chuckles to yourself as you remember some delicious episode of completely inappropriate holiday humor.
See you at Angela's house on December 10th to reminisce about Sookie and laugh over Sedaris.
Leave a comment on this blog or on FB to RSVP.
This blog post was wrapped and delivered by Jen W.