Rakoff David - The Uncollected David Rakoff: Including the entire text of Love, Dishonor, Marry, Die, Cherish, Perish by David Rakoff, edited

I saw David Rakoff onstage before I ever read him. He was playing a beleaguered social worker in One Woman Shoe, a play by Amy and David Sedaris, which dealt with homeless and downtrodden women being required, in exchange for their welfare checks, to perform one-woman shows. Rakoff was elegant, absurd, and hilarious, as he was in all media. Many of his most delicious essays are included in this addictive volume, an ideal companion to his classically cranky collections Fraud, Dont Get Too Comfortable, and Half Empty.

David is my favorite breed of artist, because his work promises pleasure. Whenever Id see his name, online or in a magazine or anywhere else, Id either catapult right to his words or Id save them for last, as an earned dessert. David was, as he put it, a sophisticated sissy, the wayward child of Canadian therapists; he quickly and forever became a passionate New Yorker. He could be acerbic, noting the perils of nostalgic marketing by imagining an ad campaign with the tagline Hitler wore khakis. He decried the homogenization of his adopted hometown, claiming, They used to use Toronto as a stand-in for New York in movies, but now I think Torontos probably too gritty and real.

David could also be ardently appreciative, whether swooning over Sinatra, early Nora Ephron, or a group of simply clad tourists, of whom he declares, Those Mennonites are fabulous! One of my all-time favorite Rakoff pieces is a sympathetic deconstruction of the childrens book Stuart Little, which features a mouse given to sailor suits and professorial tweed, and carrying a cane and briefcase. This piece, which is included here, is titled The Love That Dare Not Squeak Its Name. David remembers having the book read to him in second grade and deciding that Stuarts courtly manners and dandy tendenciesmade me realize that I was somewhat like Stuart and that Stuart seemed, somewhat like myself, pretty gay.

The book also includes transcripts from some of Davids many appearances on NPR, which led to his enduring popularity, although in one of these interviews he describes soap opera fame as being fame of a very specific sort. Its actually not unlike public radio fame, you know? These transcripts are invaluable, especially when, while analyzing his acting career, David insists that hes usually offered stereotypical roles as Jewy McHebrew or Fudgy McPacker.

David was often sent, as a journalist, on semi-exotic excursions, including a visit to a crafting colony where he created an elegant egg basket that resembles nothing so much as a pair of human buttocks in rattan. He doesnt condescend to the colony, declaring instead The week I spent there is about as close as it gets to my idea of paradise. Hes never merely clever or modishly caustic, and his love for New York was unabashed: Look Around You! Every jaunt, every stroll, every errand brings you into contact with someone not like you. David is, above all else, a class act. His work is devastating, hopeful, and yearning, and his self-awareness becomes a form of Manhattan grace.

Which brings us to the books double crescendos: first, Davids masterpiece, his novel in verse, Love, Dishonor, Marry, Die, Cherish, Perish. For ignorant folks like me the designation a novel in verse sounds like a warning from some literary Surgeon General, as in May cause death by mind-numbing pretension. But thanks to Davids giddy genius, Love, Dishonoris an airy, profoundly charming, and irresistible epic, and it has become a beloved touchstone to countless readers.

David died only a few months after completing Love, Dishonor, and thats how we arrive at this collections final and heartbreaking entry: the transcript of Davids last televised appearance on This American Life, at which time hed already lost the use of his left arm, to the cancer that would soon kill him, at forty-seven. David was wary of being defined by his illness; he says, Ive always bridled at the term memoirist because Ive wanted to be known for the quality of my writing as opposed to the particulars of my biography. This does not become an issue, because David treats his disease with the same mordant, incisive flair as any other topic.

He walks onstage and mentions that I danced a lot, all through my childhood.Its an incredibly generic trait for a certain type of boy. Like a straight boy being obsessed with baseball, except its better. He remembers once feeling that If I just buckled down to the great work at handthen my best self was just there right around the corner. He claims to be done with all that, and done with so many things, like dancing.