Don't Get Too Comfortable

It's fair to say that David Rakoff is a charter member of the gay Rat Pack, composed, more or less, of Rakoff, David Sedaris, Dan Savage, Augusten Burroughs, and Henry Alford. Unfortunately for Rakoff, he's often compared unfavorably to Sedaris, presumably because they're both gay, both named David, and both humor writers. Rakoff, however, is actually funnier, smarter, and a far better writer than Sedaris. (I should say that not only do I find Sedaris utterly unfunny, but I don't think I can name another writer, apart from John Seabrook, whose boundless self-regard is quite so evident in every sentence. Yeah, yeah, like everyone else, I liked the Macy's elf essay, but have you read his recent stuff? It's mostly about how much money he's show more made from his work and how everyone adores him. Who gives a fuck? He'd probably make a good topic for an essay in a book like Rakoff's, actually, what with his constant essays in the New Yorker about his forays to France.)

I will confess that as I read, I became a wee bit confused by the title of this book, as it gives the impression that Rakoff discusses, well, the indignities of coach class, the torments of low thread count, artisinal olive oil, and the like. In fact, none of those things shows up in the book. However, Rakoff does take on high-end Florida hotels, organic dining (at an unnamed restaurant that's obviously Chez Panisse), fasting, high fashion, and cryogenics (yep, there are people still interested in cryogenics), and other instruments of upper middle-class self-obsession.

Like a lot of the Gay Rat Pack's work the book is often embarrassing to read on the subway because you'll laugh too much. (New Yorkers have a more or less undeserved reputation for being surly, but they really will give you odd looks if you start giggling too much. Although you're probably safe if you don't giggle and mumble about The End of the World at the same time. Yes, I have actually seen someone doing that on the 6 train.) Rakoff's writing is also smart and pointed -- he takes apart the Log Cabin Republicans in an especially satisfying and effective way, and boy, does he destroy the vile Karl Lagerfeld. So ignore the weird cover copy and enjoy the essays. show less

The full title, Don't Get Too Comfortable: The Indignities of Coach Class, the Torments of Low Thread Count, the Never-Ending Quest for Artisanal Olive Oil, and Other First World Problems, might lead you to believe this book might be a little too much. Not so. Clever, but not pretentious. Funny, but not cruel. Angry, but never strident. Somehow I missed Rakoff's earlier Fraud, but I'm adding it to my wish list now.

I've come to realize that there is no prose I find more enjoyable than that of a snarky gay man. For me, this book is just rapturous. Hilarious, charming and witty, this little collection of essays promises an evening or two of unmitigated reading pleasure. Much recommended.

Of course you compare him to David Sedaris, who is Dave-Barry funnier (maybe Dave Barry’s evil twin). But Rakoff is the better writer, both a humorist and an intellectual whose elegant fey voice you can hear in every essay. His takedown of the Log Cabin Republicans is masterful and well thought out, and the scabrous paragraph he devotes to Karl Lagerfeld, who foolishly challenged him to write anything novel about fashion, had me falling off my chair.

David Rakoff is my hero (and one of my many, *many* gay Canadian boyfriends). He's hilariously funny, but there's real meat to this volume, too. My favorite essays are the one exploring Rakoff's mixed feelings upon deciding to become an American citizen, and the chapter about the Log Cabin Republicans. In the latter Rakoff presents himself as sympathetic to their plight yet understandably completely baffled by gay Republicans' attempts to earn a place inside "the big tent" (the essay's called "Beat Me, Daddy"--and for good reason); there's a humanity to his political commentary that's increasingly rare these days.

Like Sarah Vowell, Rakoff is a contributor to This American Life. I enjoyed Vowell’s book, but Rakoff’s was laugh-out-loud funny. Something about the way he takes on modern life—from Martha Stewart (he’s a fan) to foraging for eatables in Prospect Park to cryogenic freezing to the Log Cabin Republicans—just struck my funny bone. Fore instance, he always refers to unmentionables as “underpants,” whether belonging to men or women. About his decision to mark on his US citizenship application (he is originally Canadian) that yes, he would, if required by law, bear arms on behalf of the United State, he writes, “if there ever came a time when the government of my new homeland was actually calling up the forty-something show more asking-and-telling homosexuals with hyperactive thyroids to take up arms, something very calamitous indeed will have to have happened.”
A lot of people seem to find David Sedaris witty and hysterical; I liked exactly one essay out of his book that I read (“Six to Eight Black Men,” about Christmas in the Netherlands). I find him, frankly, boring. And while both men are gay, David Sedaris makes his homosexuality gross and a little threatening, as when he’s ogling other men (many of them straight) in locker rooms or manipulating other (straight) boys into touching him. Rakoff is able to talk about being gay—although he doesn’t very much, as that’s not what the book’s about—in a much more benign way. show less

I enjoyed this book - I am a huge fan of This American Life and the essayists who regularly contribute to it - that being said I thought this book definitely had some essays that were much much better than others. i found a few of them really on the boring side (the log cabin republican one and the one about freezing people after death - to name a couple) but on the other hand - I thought a few were really hilarious and above average - (loved the Concorde/Hooters one and the fasting one...)

All in all - a good read.