I resisted reading this thing for quite a while. Honestly it wasn’t until I lost a book on the bus that I turned to it out of desperation. I had read Naked a while back, and liked it just enough to make it readable. The stories seemed contrived and formulaic, but the laughs came at a rate that made it worth finishing. Me Talk Pretty One Day has not so much contrivance, but little humor as well. Whereas in Naked he purposely put himself in weird situations to see what would happen, in this one he just takes slices mostly of his adult life, and just kind of makes observations. The problem is that like 90% of the stories revolve around his time in France with his boyfriend. Okay, we get it, you’re a fish out of water. Americans are inferior to the French in every way but their hominess and, uh, condescending sense of nostalgia. The thing played more like an outtakes compilation than an actual first-run book. Even Sedaris’ talk of his drug use smacked of like a jokey James Frey tale. I really couldn’t wait for the thing to end. There’s only so many time one can start a story with the line: “We were in our place in France…”