By Paul Carrier
Paging through David Sedaris’ Holidays on Ice does not, in any way, call to mind Burl Ives crooning A Holly, Jolly Christmas.
As the title of this slim volume suggests, these darkly comic tales have a (sometimes tenuous) link to the holidays, particularly Christmas. But the black humor to be found in several of these essays bears no resemblance to the saccharine tripe that TV programmers foist upon us during our annual celebration of conspicuous consumption.
(Why, you ask, am I reviewing a collection of holiday-themed essays after the sappy season has come and gone? Holidays on Ice was a Christmas gift. So here we are.)
Holidays on Ice is largely devoid of restraint or gentility. It isn't subtle. But what it has in abundance is a wonderfully wicked mischievousness. These essays, some of which claim to be autobiographical, have an arch tone that leaves the reader laughing out loud - snorting, even - more often than not.
Perhaps the highlight is SantaLand Diaries, in which Sedaris recounts his purported exploits as a Christmas elf at Macy’s department store. Here, as elsewhere in this collection, Sedaris’ take-no-prisoners attitude is on display, along with his disdain for correctness, political or otherwise.
When Sedaris and the other elves learn rudimentary sign language to better communicate with deaf children, for example, one of Sedaris’ sisters, who can sign, decides to help him out with a few lessons of her own. The result? Sedaris can now tell the kiddos: “Santa has a tumor in his head the size of an olive. Maybe it will go away tomorrow but I don’t think so.”
Things come to a suitably bleak head on Christmas Eve, when Sedaris witnesses a fist fight between two mothers. A father labels Santa a faggot for refusing to sing a carol to his kid, a manager calls a customer a fucking bitch, and parents in long lines leave disposable diapers at the door to “Santa’s house.”
Season’s Greetings to Our Friends and Family!!! is a hilarious send up of those insufferable family letters that make the rounds at Christmas. Sedaris’ sister Lisa rescues a prostitute and brings her home in Dinah, the Christmas Whore. And a ridiculously pretentious newspaper critic pens scathingly cruel reviews of grade school Christmas pageants in Front Row Center with Thaddeus Bristol.
Christmas shoppers are sheep, Sedaris tells us in one essay, “stupid animals programmed by nature to mate and graze and bleat out their wishes to the obese, retired school principal who sat on his ass in the mall’s sorry-looking North Pole.”
Sedaris even visits a medical examiner’s office at Halloween and shares a few how-not-to-die tips with his readers: “never fall asleep in a Dumpster, never underestimate a bee, never drive a convertible behind a flatbed truck, never get old, never get drunk near a train, and never, under any circumstances, cut off your air supply while masturbating.”
As the title of this slim volume suggests, these darkly comic tales have a (sometimes tenuous) link to the holidays, particularly Christmas. But the black humor to be found in several of these essays bears no resemblance to the saccharine tripe that TV programmers foist upon us during our annual celebration of conspicuous consumption.
(Why, you ask, am I reviewing a collection of holiday-themed essays after the sappy season has come and gone? Holidays on Ice was a Christmas gift. So here we are.)
Holidays on Ice is largely devoid of restraint or gentility. It isn't subtle. But what it has in abundance is a wonderfully wicked mischievousness. These essays, some of which claim to be autobiographical, have an arch tone that leaves the reader laughing out loud - snorting, even - more often than not.
Perhaps the highlight is SantaLand Diaries, in which Sedaris recounts his purported exploits as a Christmas elf at Macy’s department store. Here, as elsewhere in this collection, Sedaris’ take-no-prisoners attitude is on display, along with his disdain for correctness, political or otherwise.
When Sedaris and the other elves learn rudimentary sign language to better communicate with deaf children, for example, one of Sedaris’ sisters, who can sign, decides to help him out with a few lessons of her own. The result? Sedaris can now tell the kiddos: “Santa has a tumor in his head the size of an olive. Maybe it will go away tomorrow but I don’t think so.”
Things come to a suitably bleak head on Christmas Eve, when Sedaris witnesses a fist fight between two mothers. A father labels Santa a faggot for refusing to sing a carol to his kid, a manager calls a customer a fucking bitch, and parents in long lines leave disposable diapers at the door to “Santa’s house.”
Season’s Greetings to Our Friends and Family!!! is a hilarious send up of those insufferable family letters that make the rounds at Christmas. Sedaris’ sister Lisa rescues a prostitute and brings her home in Dinah, the Christmas Whore. And a ridiculously pretentious newspaper critic pens scathingly cruel reviews of grade school Christmas pageants in Front Row Center with Thaddeus Bristol.
Christmas shoppers are sheep, Sedaris tells us in one essay, “stupid animals programmed by nature to mate and graze and bleat out their wishes to the obese, retired school principal who sat on his ass in the mall’s sorry-looking North Pole.”
Sedaris even visits a medical examiner’s office at Halloween and shares a few how-not-to-die tips with his readers: “never fall asleep in a Dumpster, never underestimate a bee, never drive a convertible behind a flatbed truck, never get old, never get drunk near a train, and never, under any circumstances, cut off your air supply while masturbating.”
There’s an occasional passage in Holidays on Ice that almost begins to approach something vaguely resembling merriness. But don’t worry. It’s just a passing illusion.
Burl Ives is nowhere in sight.
Burl Ives is nowhere in sight.
