I only know of Rob Delaney because of Twitter. He is one of the funniest people I have come
across. He is able to pack a lot into
those 140 characters. He’s a little raunchy on there, so don’t let your kids
follow him.
On that site, he has been promoting his book. Heavily.
I figured, since I like what he does with the short form, I’d read what
he has to do with the long form.
He does pretty well, but I have to warn you. The book is funny. But that’s not all it is. It is deep and thoughtful and poignant. Delaney writes with the best of the comic memoirists
of the past couple of years: Oswalt, Silverman, Brand, and Fey. What makes these people tick, to generalize
is often more interesting than the short things that you see that make you
laugh. Their lives have created the
angle in which they see the world and explain it to their audience.
This book is more than funny because Delaney opens up his
life to the reader. He is honest about
his faults: the bed wetting; the substance abuse; the hooking up with and
falling in love with random Dutch women. And through this, he is able to bring
light to his humor.
It is, broadly, a narrative about addiction and recovery,
but it isn’t heavy-handed or cloying.
Delany’s smart, and funny, and you should read his book. You might just see some of yourself in
it. Or you might not. Either way, you will laugh.
Some notes. It is relatively
short, so if you’re like me and you start reading and you can’t put it down,
you won’t stay up all night. Finally,
the subtitle is misleading. I found no
references Delaney being a Cabbage, and unfortunately there is no index to
verify my misgivings.
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