Humor them
Comics try to be funny in print
by Mark Bazer
The New York Times nonfiction bestseller list this past Sunday looked
suspiciously like an all-star night of programming on Comedy Central. Paul
Reiser and Drew Carey, whose sit-coms consistently rate high in the Nielsens,
both had books in the Top 20. Whoopi Goldberg and Chris Rock saw their literary
manifestos debut at #9 and #14 respectively. Add bestsellers from George Carlin
and Dennis Miller earlier this year plus new titles from the cancelled House
of Buggin' star John Leguizamo, gay comic Bob Smith, and even a dirty-joke
collection from Howard Stern headwriter Jackie "The Joke Man" Martling and you
start to wonder whether there's a comedian out there who doesn't have a
book. Sinbad? Nope, turns out he's got one too.
These comics certainly aren't the first to try their hand at prose. Bill Cosby
wrote a string of titles in the '80s; Woody Allen has three collections. And
former Tonight Show host Steve Allen, when he isn't writing jazz tunes
or hocking hearing aids, churns out book after book. The list includes Steve
Martin, Bill Maher, and Joan Rivers. But with this recent crop, the motivation
-- if not for the comics doing the writing, at least for the publishers doing
the releasing -- seems somewhat less genuine.
Call it an attempt to cash in on the comics' already established stand-up and
TV success. As Carey admits in Dirty Jokes and Beer's first chapter,
"All the best-selling books by comics-turned-sit-com-stars were basically
written-down stand-up routines as told to ghost writers who wrote it down for
them." These new comics' books aren't all based on older routines, but they are
all first-person recollections and/or observations. Instead of a comedian
coming to a publisher with an original idea, as Maher did with his ambitious
1994 comic novel True Story, the publisher now comes to the comedian
with the same old prepackaged proposal.
Two publishers in particular. Hyperion is responsible for Carlin's Brain
Droppings, Carey's Dirty Jokes and Beer, Rock's Rock This!,
and Tracey Ullman's upcoming Tracey Takes On. Rob Weisbach Books, a
division of William Morrow, put out Reiser's Babyhood, Whoopi's
Book, and Smith's Openly Bob. Weisbach can take the credit -- or
blame -- for the current onslaught. As an editor at Bantam Books, he helped
SeinLanguage, Jerry Seinfeld's 1993 collection of stand-up routine-like
musings, and Couplehood, Paul Reiser's 1994 take on relationships, sell
more than a million copies each.
Weisbach's book-jacket style features the author's face, grinning, with a hand
resting pensively on the cheek. "Come on in and get to know me a little
better," Jerry and Paul seem to tell us. Hyperion choose to have the comedians
posing in their own wacky ways. But put all these releases together and they
look like a display at Buck-a-Book. With the exception of SeinLanguage,
Whoopi's Book, and Leguizamo's Freak (Riverhead Books), the
jackets all have white backgrounds, and the titles and authors' names are
printed in colorful, puffy type.
At least the Weisbach books -- by Reiser, Whoopi, and Smith -- offer
uninterrupted prose. Smith and Goldberg divide their volumes into essays of
opinions and tales of past experiences; Reiser devotes his entire book to the
trials and tribulations of changing diapers. Hyperion, on the other hand, is
more interested in capturing what the comedians have done elsewhere. The Rock
and Carlin volumes -- both co-written -- consist mainly of stand-up bits and
quick observations. Carey, whose book is one-third fictional stories titled
"Stories of the Unrefined" and two-thirds details of the comic's life and his
likes (strippers) and dislikes (sexual-harassment seminars), writes of having
had to push his loftier ambitions on the Hyperion editors. He refers to his
"Stories of the Unrefined" as "the small collection of short stories that the
publishers at Hyperion wish would just go away."
Publishers' motives aside, the bottom line is still: are these books funny?
After all, no one expects Chris Rock to write like Hemingway. We just want him
to make us laugh while we're sitting on the toilet, out of earshot of his CD
playing on the stereo. Instead, Rock This! shows how important a
comedian's delivery is. As Seinfeld writes in SeinLanguage's
introduction, "This book is filled with funny ideas but you have to provide the
delivery. So when you read it, remember -- timing, inflection, attitude. That's
comedy. I've done my part, the performance is up to you." As hard as I try, I'm
just not as good as Rock at doing Rock's act.
Reading Babyhood, on the other hand, is kind of like having Paul Reiser
over your house to tell you a story. Sure, his humor is fairly standard --
tricks like giving babies adult thoughts and continually switching his pronouns
from "I" to "You." But credit the guy for having the formula down perfectly.
Carey occasionally had me laughing as he related his joy for life's simple
pleasures like owning a big TV set. His "fiction," on the other hand, which he
says he's the most proud of, is a set of moderately funny tales about --
surprise, surprise -- a guy from Cleveland named Drew. Carey claims these tales
represent his dark side, but if you want dark, try John Leguizamo's
"semi-demi-quasi-pseudo autobiography" of growing up poor with an abusive
father. Although Freak, based on his new one-man show, is often funny,
it's also the quickest read of all these books -- which in this group is no
easy feat.
At least Leguizamo tries to present his topics (often serious ones) in a
hysterical, absurd manner -- somehow he turns the idea of a 10-year-old
Leguizamo being forced by his dad to drink hard liquor into a riot. Goldberg's
Book adopts a resoundingly unfunny manner to tell us about herself and
her opinions on society and politics. (That's true to some extent of Rock
This! and Dirty Jokes and Beer as well.) Unless you're infatuated
with Whoopi, why would you give a damn what she thinks about paying taxes? When
she does get silly, it's about men pissing on toilet seats or farts (her
penchant for releasing gas earned her her nickname).
The least known of these comics, Bob Smith, may not have written the most
enjoyable book (Reiser earns that distinction), but Openly Bob is the
one that asks to be taken the most seriously. Smith mixes stand-up jokes and
clever play on words with lucid and often sophisticated prose to create both
heartfelt and amusing stories. Like Steve Martin in recent New Yorker
back-page essays or Paula Poundstone in her Mother Jones column, he's
going for something unique. And yet his essays do tend to drag on. Funny thing:
what I'll remember most about Smith from the book are the jokes he's told in
his act or to his friends.
Indeed, what these comedians all have in common is that their stand-up
routines are infinitely more amusing than their books. Take Whoopi. She has the
kind of commanding, charismatic presence that can turn her material into
something funnier than it should be. Seinfeld was right: "timing, inflection,
attitude. That's comedy." So, comedians: please leave the books to the writers.
If you keep this up, a reverse trend just might develop: writers doing
stand-up. Do you really want to see Updike at the Improv?