I Was Told There'd Be Cake by Sloane Crosley

I've been reading some very good but pretty heavy stuff lately (Child brides! Ghetto life! Mental illness!) and was in need of some lighter material to switch things up. I'm a sucker for a good cover and any blurb that cites a David Sedaris comparison. Unfortunately, sometimes what lurks underneath a cool cover just doesn't deliver, but more importantly, who can really live up to the perfectly peculiar David Sedaris? Sloane Crosley, that's who.

Not to be a black-hearted pessimist, but honestly there aren't that many humor essay collections that are funny straight through from beginning to end or live up to book cover proclamations by celebrities who are oftentimes secret besties with the authors. So many books branded as the next funniest thing may have a few humorous elements or one or two good stories out of the lot, but "I Was Told There'd Be Cake" had me laughing from page 1 right through to 228. (And this wasn't a 374-page book.)

I also really like looking at author photos and seeing if their writing correlates to their faces. Kind of like hearing a radio personality's voice and then searching their image online. They just don't always match up. When I look at Sloane Crosley's photo, I see the following: Westchester upbringing? Check. Drawer full of plastic ponies? Check. Teenage summer camp escapades? Check. But, man, does she ever know how to spin these simple things into twisted tales. After finishing the book, I take another look at her sly little smile on the inside back cover and think such thoughts as, "Wow. This girl was once trapped in the predicament of trying to figure out which one of her dinner guests left a turd on her bathroom carpet after a dinner party." and, "Holy fuck, did she really make a cookie in the image of her dragon lady boss and then actually gift it to her the next morning?!??" Not to mention the time she bumped into an Atlas moth (Google that thing and be doomed to nightmares for eternity) setting off a chain of events that resulted in an inadvertent butterfly kidnapping, sign language and a fortunately-situated sleeping homeless person. For real? I may not be able to relate to her upper class New York upbringing, but I am 100% on board with forced lame bridal shower attendance, "interesting" apartment neighbours and drunkenly leaving my wallet in a cab. I have also had someone come into my house, shit on the carpet and leave (though in my case it was a squirrel).

Comedians are experts at finding the absurd in the ordinary. Sloane Crosley has mastered this skill and, in my opinion, has rightfully earned her David Sedaris comparison. But sometimes, the absurd is not ordinary at all and is just simply absurd. When that's the case, she just magnifies the absurdity, playfully showcases how ridiculous it all is, puts that insanity on a stick and hands it over. I bite into it, laugh and eat it up, reflexively reaching over for another helping.