A few years ago someone rather famous said that it is the duty of art to reflect society. That, for better or for worse, it is the duty of the artist (painter, writer, poet, etc) to portray in their art the condition of their society. More on this later. Naked. In reading Naked I found a window, a portal, that once looked through shed a little light into the world of Mr. Sedaris; his friends, his family, and his quest of understanding of both himself and the society in which he lives. Some of the stories were met with a chuckle and some of the stories were met with more of a 'hmmmm.' It was a good, quick read. One that dutifully passed the few hours in which it took to read. And, once finished, I placed it upon my bookshelf where it quickly, and expectantly faded from memory. Now, in writing this review, I am forced to think back to what I have read and come up with with something to say. But I have nothing. As there is nothing. If am forced, the best I could say is that the book is full of well-written essays on life. And it is. But there is nothing special or outstanding, nothing to learn from them, and certainly nothing to pull from to make us a better person, nothing to give us any insight into the human condition. In reading this book, I realized something. And this goes back to my first paragraph. In writing this book, (and I am to assume this other books are the same), Mr. Sedaris has perfectly reflected the society in which he lives. A dull, self-centered society in which people are more apt to look outward toward the suffering and humiliation of others instead of looking within. Naked perfectly encapsulates the current state of the American condition. A condition in which each night we gather round the television to watch the love life of a perfect stranger, and then, coffee and donuts in hand, we gather round the water cooler the next morning to discuss and second guess that stranger's decisions. Quietly telling ourselves that if we were in that same situation, we would've done things differently... Naked, like so many other semi-fictional memoirs that are being churned out these days, allows us to take our eyes and minds off of ourselves and look at, smile at, and ridicule the lives and the decision of others. And I can think of nothing more telling of current American society than that. Mr. Sedaris is neither genius, nor master essayist has, whether he had planned it or not, succeeded in reflecting the society in which he lives; shallow, self, and presumably sex-obsessed society who takes pleasure in the misfortunes of others. Overall, an admirable, if not disheartening (and marketable) feat. Two Stars.
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