As far as I’m concerned, the release of any new book by David Sedaris is cause for celebration. I don’t care if it’s another collection memoirs, fiction, or just one long account of him catching flies to feed to his house spiders in Normandy (yes, please). I don’t need to know anything about it ahead of time, my pre-order is placed at the first mention. In this case it’s 25 years of Sedaris’ diary entries. If you’ve read his books of autobiographical essays, this tome provides fascinating glimpses of periods and events you’ve read about before, from various forms of drug abuse, odd jobs, and faithful nightly visits to IHOP to interactions with his parents and siblings, life in France with his partner, sobriety, and life on seemingly endless book tours. Only this time it’s more personal, because – at least originally – these diary entries were simply written for Sedaris himself. It’s a pretty amazing thing to read what a person chose to record for and about themselves from age 21 to 46. I also thoroughly enjoyed all the mentions of David’s sister, Amy Sedaris. It’s clear she’s always been the glorious and talented weirdo she is today. I hope Sedaris intends to publish more of his diaries someday. I’ll be ready.