A story about the author's childhood. He is trying to tell it in a funny way and somehow he manages. But only somehow.
I was expecting this to be ironic which I would have liked. But it wasn't. This book was just the complete opposite of what I expected it to be. It was childish, that's probably the best description I can come up with if I don't want to get too insulting. The author didn't come across as a very likeable person, either. I just did not care for him or his life or anything he wrote down. At all.
I have no idea who awarded him the prizes for humour or what kind of humour they are talking about.
Will I read another book by David Sedaris? I doubt it!