Pastiche vs. Parody

“This is not a joke cookbook,” says Amy Sedaris in her introductory letter, a statement immediately preceded by the wisdom: “You don’t have to be the perfect host, just the prettiest.” A couple pages later, she introduces readers to her “famous Lil’ Smoky Cheese Balls,” writing: “One can serve a cheese ball while entertaining friends on Monday, spend Tuesday perking up the ball, and then serve it to a different group of friends on Wednesday” (27). At this point, one may feel inclined to discount Sedaris’ original pretension of gravity, instead proceeding to laugh through “The Art of Hospitality” while enjoying the parody of Dorothy Draper and the generation of small-minded homemaking devotees she inspired. However, to do so would be to misinterpret I Like You; an affectionate pastiche of recipes and advice, written by an off-kilter woman with a genuine passion for the creative entertainment of herself and others.

Just as Martha Stewart might discuss best practices in catering to a variety of audiences, Sedaris too covers the differences between hosting a sophisticated brunch for lumberjacks and entertaining one’s rich and elderly family relations. However, the imitation is not derisive. The recipes are legitimate and appear as though they would, in fact, suit the respective company quite well. Moreover, they are undergirded by a desire to respect and sufficiently serve the needs of the guest. This can entail a degree of absurdity when the guest occupies a professional niche as narrow as “lumberjack” (read: “Be polite when suggesting they remove their cleats, but be prepared if they don’t” [73]), but also sincerity when the person at hand faces challenges such as grief, terminal illness, or simply old age. In entertaining the old and frail, for example, Sedaris suggests: “Elderly people have much to offer. They have years of experience stored in their brains … soon you will be in their comfort shoes, and wouldn’t it be nice to be invited to a party?” (151).

Much of what might be perceived as a mockery of those heavily invested in homemaking can in fact be softened by taking into account Sedaris’ unique vantage point while writing I Like You. The idea of a person who has perfected the art of folding napkins is frequently associated with the stay-at-home mother, reveling in her sphere of domesticity, and Sedaris, already a successful actor and writer at the time of publishing, does not appear to fit into this role. Rather, she is a single, career-oriented woman without children who is staunchly committed to preserving her independence. However, this does not mean that her enthusiasm for exceptional hand-crafted decorations should be interpreted as a joke; nor should her detailed description of entertainment for rabbits suggest a parody of maternal devotion. By all accounts, these are subjects close to Sedaris’ heart, and their inclusion in her book is affectionate rather than critical.

A woman who once turned down an acting gig because she couldn’t bear to uproot her rabbit and endure Los Angeles in the fall, Amy Sedaris is every bit the character seen covered in whipped cream, offering instructions for a canned fruit cocktail on page 227. This is not a joke cookbook, but rather the work of an artist borrowing freely from the traditions that preceded her, offering us her unique spin on a subject she respects and admires. 

Amy Sedaris and Incongruity in Human Behavior

            What I like most about I Like You is that—and other people have noted this—the book serves two purposes: first, it is a very traditional cookbook and party-planning guide. Amy Sedaris provides some really detailed recipes for dishes that seem somewhat traditional and straightforward. She warns against certain things that might ruin a party and cautions the would-be host to remain diligent (“like an owl”) against certain intrusions (e.g. turtles, TV). In this sense, the book reflects the idealism of certain party-planning guides: it claims to know how certain people behave and instructs party hosts in how to guide behavior in a certain way. People will enjoy this kind of food, these party games, etc. The tenets of I Like You in this respect are universal and readily applicable to every situation.

            What makes the book funny are those instances when it diverges from the standard party-planning model. Usually, these are instances when Amy’s private life and personal struggles manifest themselves in the book. After preparing a meal for a blind date, Amy describes a nightmarish conclusion: “Too drunk to hail a cab, he sent his friend home, fell asleep on my bed, and woke up in his own vomit. We dated for two years.” Obviously, this is not practical advice on demonstrating ideal hospitality; instead, it’s a rather embarrassing personal story of an instance when hospitality failed. By the time she describes recipes for rabbit food, the reader is convinced that this book is only really for Amy Sedaris. The odd eccentricities on every page speak more to her weaknesses as an adult woman than to her expertise in hospitality. For example, she gives a detailed account of how to make your rich uncle feel at home, but should any other (less wealthy) character show up at your door, Amy provides a set of evasive techniques to avoid contact. Even when she does execute perfect party-hosting, it’s usually a little manipulative and self-serving. When approached with the problem of mental illness, Amy reminds us that “this is your party not a sanatorium. Your healthy party guests come first.” She even advocates making a profit off of the party by selling unwanted items at the door or making your pet perform.

            After watching several interviews with Amy (I actually remember when she was a guest on The Daily Show and was surprised to find out it was 8 years ago…) I’d have to say that there is some of herself in here. The enthusiasm for hospitality and party-hosting appear genuine, but I’m guessing that the more unseemly characteristics (her manipulative tactics, her troubled personal life, her self-centered personality) have been exaggerated for humor. While mostly a caricature of herself (a form of self-deprecating humor), I Like You also highlights the incongruity between how we’d like people to behave and how people actually behave.

Hospitality as Self-Expression

Food Network continues our democratic embrace of high standards for food and etiquette. But for Amy Sedaris, hospitality is the art of self-expression. She would ultimately be disappointed if we followed her recipes, preferring instead that we write our own cookbooks.

In Dr. Abromaitis' class, we're currently reading Pride and Prejudice, and often discussing liberalism—not as it relates to whether the GOP will take the Senate in today's election, but as it relates to democratic ideals of equality. The rules of traditional etiquette, dismissed by Sedaris in her opening letter, signify wealth (9). Although I'm no expert in the history of etiquette, I imagine that as societies became increasingly liberalized, the opportunities for middle- and lower-class citizens to take part in the formal etiquette of the upper classes grew. Traditionally, kitchens were kept in the back of the house and reserved for the servants. The less time a family spent in their kitchen, the wealthier they were. The New York Times Food section no longer includes restaurant reviews, but celebrity chefs such as Mark Bittman who offer organic home-cooking advice. David Brooks in his book Bobos in Paradise calls this the ultimate modern fusion of the bourgeois and the bohemian. Our modern love for cooking and decor (à la Good Housekeeping) is a very recent preoccupation.

Sedaris is continuing the democratic tradition of celebrating cooking in a way that class-based societies wouldn't understand. She's continuing the American consumer mentality that allows for free choice between themes, traditions, cultures, and decorations. However, as Sedaris does this, she's also poking fun at the modern foodie industry. While a previous generation of liberals may have rejoiced in their ability to mimic the parties of the upper classes, that eventually led to Betty Elliot, Martha Stewart, and Rachel Ray becoming an upper class, an unattainable ideal, themselves. Sedaris deconstructs our love of everything that Good Housekeeping, Food Network, and Mark Bittman present as routes to happiness.  

Hosting a party, for Sedaris, is an expression of self, not a mimicry of someone else's idea of a good time. I think that Sedaris would be flattered, but ultimately displeased, if her readers imitated her recipes, her decorations, her crafts, or even her zany style. Imitation is for an older generation of hosts. The truly free person sees hospitality as the art of self-expression. She writes:

I feel entertaining is a dying art. My goal is to encourage you, [your name here], to entertain in your home, your style. Having a party is one of the most creative and generous activities that every person can enjoy and indulge in, if you're on the list. (13)

Flipping through Sedaris' book, she never includes pictures of her guests, only pictures of
herself. It's as if we are already guests at her party, imagining her food and dress and decorations. The reader is invited into her imaginary home, and her tipsy thoughts.

Our class is hosting the upcoming English Department Feast, and it already promises to be an incongruous event like no feast that has come before! While other seminars may have focused on a unity of theme, we were unable to decide on any single theme and instead have smashed them together. It's not one of the suggested themes in Sedaris' book (such as “Gypsy” or “Price Chompers”) but it is an expression of our class. Amy Sedaris would approve.

Suds and Sedaris

Throughout this semester we’ve discussed how various authors have employed humor to discuss difficult topics such as racism, violence, religion, rape, and many other difficult subjects. For the first time, however, Amy Sedaris begins touch upon addiction, namely alcoholism. Her entire book is centered on ‘hosting under the influence’ and while this greatly adds to the humor of the book there is a fine line between tipsy hosting and blackout addiction.

            One of the most obvious examples of Sedaris’ dealing with alcohol is in her chapter on hosting for the grieving. She writes, “It is also a good idea to have a wide assortment of alcohol on hand. Drinking kills feelings. Make sure that you crack the seal on all the liquor bottles ahead of time because mourners don’t want to feel inhibited about diving in.” (Sedaris 122). Sedaris is touching upon the tendency of people to drink to appease negative emotions, which is a clear form of substance abuse. However, despite this being a form of abuse, it is still considered a socially acceptable action. She even goes so far as to suggest that you open the bottles beforehand, so the partygoers can jump right in. Obviously, Sedaris is being somewhat satirical and anyone that takes her book at face value is missing her point. Yet, on the other hand, Sedaris is presenting viewers with commentary on the current alcohol culture in the world. Alcohol seems to be a form of escapism for people and the main problem with it is how readily available it is.

            She similarly discusses alcohol in her chapter on cooking under the influence; however, she discusses the differences between current alcoholics and recovered alcoholics. She notes the main problem with alcoholics is that they don’t know boundaries or when they stop being funny. (88). On the other hand, she writes of recovered alcoholics, “They love to regale party guests with ribald stories from their ‘drinkin’ daze,’ which always makes me think, ‘I bet you were a lot more fun when you drank.’” (88). Sedaris is putting forth some very interesting views on alcohol and alcoholism and because of her tone it is difficult to tell how satirical she’s being, which I believe was her intention. Whatever the case may be, Sedaris’ form of humor reveals much about the current alcohol culture in America. Namely, that drinking to suppress feelings is a regular thing and that alcohol makes people more fun, up to a certain point. There seems to be a fine line between where the fun ends and the alcoholism begins. Perhaps by making her humor so difficult to decipher, Sedaris is mimicking this fine line between acceptable use of alcohol and abuse.

The Sedaris Silliness

What is most intriguing about Amy Sedaris’ book, “I Like You” is that she uses pictures to supplement her written jokes.  This book is not like television or movies where we can hear and see the joke; this is not like David Sedaris’ book where we can read the joke and visualize how the situation was funny.  Amy Sedaris’ book uses still photographs of squirrels, rabbits, tortillas with clock hands, worms with berets in wine glasses, felt discs, peanut shells with googley eyes, etc., etc..  In this way, there really is no joke to understand.  The text and photographs do not come together artistically to form a punch line; the pictures are just random. 

            Because photographs are not moving like a movie scene or are not as descriptive as David Sedaris telling a story, I think Amy Sedaris using photographs is tricky and daring.  It’s unclear how the photographs function in this type of humor.  Maybe she just included them because she could and she thought it would be funny.  This is plausible because the pictures are definitely absurd.  At one point, she is writing about how to entertain clubs and in the middle of the page, it says “no squirrels”.  On page 68, there is a picture of Sedaris with a bunch of plants—one of them being mushrooms that she sewed together which has nothing to do with the “Breakfast for Sleepy Hollow Heads” page that precedes it. 

Another function could be maybe pictures allow the readers to get a more comprehensive view of who she is as the author.  Sedaris’ book could have easily been funny with just the text, without the pictures.  But by using photographs, I think she supplements her humorous stories with humorous pictures (not that the pictures and text relate to each other at all).  Personally, the photographs allowed me as the reader to get to know Sedaris as the author on a deeper level—for one thing, I know she has no shame being photographed without pants on and being covered in whipped cream.  However, sometimes the other mediums of humor just don’t really give a bigger picture.  When we watched Dave Chapelle, we now know his opinions about terrorists and black people, but we don’t know that much more about him other than the bits he chooses to discuss.  With David Sedaris, we read his stories, but his name is just the words on the front of the book.  The pictures do say a lot about who Sedaris is as a person in general.  Who else would put in pictures of squirrels and weird photos of herself posing in bizarre outfits? 

One thing is for sure: the pictures and the text complement each other quite well.  The text itself is funny, but combining it with other funny pictures is genius.  The majority of this book is not meant to be serious or cause change; the sole purpose is to make people laugh and Sedaris allows herself to look like an idiot both in her short anecdotes about her childhood and in the pictures.  Therefore, I’m not really sure what to make of Sedaris’ “I Like You”, but clearly Amy and David Sedaris are equally crazy. 

Incongruity Theory and Felt Butter

At the beginning of her book, I Like You, Amy Sedaris addresses her audience in the form of a letter; she explains: “This colorfully illustrated book (see pictures) is my attempt to share with you something I take very seriously: entertaining at home, my style . . . it may not be the proper way . . . but it works for me.”  Interestingly, when asked why her book was compiled in such a “colorful” way (in an interview that I watched of her on Youtube), Sedaris responded by saying that her book is “very visual” because a lot of people either can’t read or don’t want to read. By displaying her book in a fun and vibrant way, Sedaris hopes that it will reach a greater audience—even those who wouldn’t normally pick up a book. Sedaris’ attempt to reach her audience was especially funny in the section entitled “Entertaining the Elderly”. Consistent with her authorial goal of accommodating a diverse audience, in this section, Sedaris uses a larger font size. Not only is Sedaris successful in making her advice accessible to an elderly audience, she is also contributing to the overall playfulness of her text. I found this technique to be both practical and rather hilarious.

            Referring back to the quotation I included above, it is also important to note that Sedaris explains the content of her book as something that she takes “very seriously”. This notion of “seriousness” is repeated at several other instances throughout her work. Most notably, several paragraphs down from the first mention of “seriousness” (within the same letter), Sedaris explains: “This is not a joke cookbook. I don’t like joke cookbooks because I can’t take them seriously. This book is full of real information.” While Sedaris makes numerous attempts to convince us of her books’ “seriousness”, we can also see that she uses this appeal as a literary technique. Similar to some of the other humor we have studied this semester, many authors construct the punch line of his/her joke around the process by which they build up our expectations—by telling us that what they are about to say/do is very serious—and then by doing just the opposite. When our expectations as an audience fail to be met, we tend to laugh—mainly because of the incongruity we experience in confronting our realities. Sedaris follows this exact model; she elevates our expectations by telling us that the content of her book is very serious, only to offer us instruction on how to make “felt butter” or “gypsy skirt steak”—a recipe that only differs from regular skirt steak in the first line of the directions: “Steal some skirt steaks”(252).

Guidance and Folly

            Within the first few pages of reading Amy Sedaris’ I Like You, I was struck by her sense of humor and the way it is presented in her writing. She doesn’t appear to be trying to be funny, which is very different from the Tyler Perry reading from last week, instead, she seems to simply have a comical view on life and her observations just end up coming off as hilarious.

            Her humor is dry and at many times reminds me of a written form of slapstick (if there can be such a thing). The way she moves about a seemingly serious situation, one that’s been written about many times in a strictly business-like manner, she brings up the most absurd situations and describes immediately the downfalls of all of them.

            Just within the first few pages, I was reminded of the Goofy shorts that Disney used to make where you would have his character attempting to do or learn something while he was being taught/narrator by a separated, disembodied voice. You would see Goofy attempt something, such as playing baseball or driving, and as he would go, the man (as the voice was always male) would talk about the activity and then give Goofy alternatives so as to avoid the less that desired situations he was getting himself into.

            I felt very much the same while reading in Sedaris’ book, except I was Goofy and she was the voice. The way in which she explains the processes of setting up a party follow a system of leading you down one path and then saying “oh, but watch out for this” and then turning you around and pointing you down another, much the way the Goofy shorts were set up.

           Amy Sedaris has a wonderfully conversational and warm tone to her writing, letting readers feel as though they might know her. This tone mixed with her “How To” content allows for her humor to shine through. The way in which she presents circumstances and their follies back to back is highly reminiscent of the structure of slapstick and the unexpected ridiculousness, in this way, made me chuckle throughout the book.

                            (In case anyone is unfamiliar with the shorts I mentioned)