In 'Calypso,' David Sedaris Blends Slime And The Sublime
When my brother, sister, and I were growing up, our dinner conversation would inevitably turn scatological at some point, the grosser the better: A kid puked on the teacher's desk, another tracked in dog poop. "Must we talk about this at dinner?" our mother would protest. To which we would answer, "When else are we supposed to talk about it?"
David Sedaris well understands the joys of connecting with siblings over the ridiculous, the outrageous, and yes, the disgusting. His new book,is filled with talk of thickening uterus linings, runaway bowels, and the revolting stuff passengers leave behind in airplane seat pockets. (You don't want to know.) Sedaris' nonagenarian father scolds his middle-aged progeny, "Is that any way to talk at the table?"
