“The Bedwetter” By Sarah Silverman
I was still on my memoir kick but was looking for something a little lighter. I didn’t know much about Sarah Silverman except for her song “I’m fucking Matt Damon,” which I didn’t think was all that funny anyway. This memoir has definitely given me a clear picture of Silverman’s talent with humor…but not writing.
The first half was a jumbled account of her high school years dealing with depression, teen angst, and yes, bedwetting. Her stories didn’t follow perfect chronological order but I didn’t mind because I was laughing all the way through. Then I got to the mid-word…Silverman’s clever wedge between the foreword and afterword. Although still funny, any continuity that the first section was clinging to was lost for the entire second half. Where was her editor?? Silverman even confessed that finishing up her memoir was more work than she had expected and I was feeling the drag right along with her.
Also, I couldn’t help but feel that she was being too careful not to step on anyone’s toes. Every single person named in the book she seemed to have an appreciation, admiration, or respect for. There were also a few sections that felt like she using her memoir as a platform for defending criticisms she received after making a few controversial cracks at celebrities (and minorities…).
Although I would consider Silverman’s memoir as amateur material, she had me laughing out loud nearly every page.