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Fraud
A frequent contributor to the New York Times magazine, Outside , Salon , and GQ , and a regular on Public Radio International's "This American Life,"David Rakoff's debut collection of essays is simultaneously laugh-out-loud funny and take-your-breath-away poignant.
David Rakoff is a fish out of water. Whether he finds himself on assignment climbing Mount Monadnock in New Hampshire — donning a pair of Timberlands for his trek, only to realize with horror that "the shoes I wouldn't be caught dead in might actually turn out to be the shoes I am caught dead in." — sitting quietly impersonating Sigmund Freud in a department store window...for a month, or musing on the unique predicament of being undetectably Canadian in New York City ("...what's more spicy than being Canadian, I ask you?"), Rakoff has a gift for exposing life's humour and pathos. Fraud takes us places even we didn't know we wanted to expeditions as varied as a search for elves in Iceland, a foray into soap opera acting, or contemplating the gin-soaked olive at the bottom of a martini glass.
With the sharpest of eyes, David Rakoff explores the odd and ordinary events of life, spotting what is unique, funny and absurd in the world around him. But for all its razor-sharp wit and snarky humor, Fraud is also, ultimately, an object lesson in not taking life, or oneself, too seriously.
David Rakoff is a fish out of water. Whether he finds himself on assignment climbing Mount Monadnock in New Hampshire — donning a pair of Timberlands for his trek, only to realize with horror that "the shoes I wouldn't be caught dead in might actually turn out to be the shoes I am caught dead in." — sitting quietly impersonating Sigmund Freud in a department store window...for a month, or musing on the unique predicament of being undetectably Canadian in New York City ("...what's more spicy than being Canadian, I ask you?"), Rakoff has a gift for exposing life's humour and pathos. Fraud takes us places even we didn't know we wanted to expeditions as varied as a search for elves in Iceland, a foray into soap opera acting, or contemplating the gin-soaked olive at the bottom of a martini glass.
With the sharpest of eyes, David Rakoff explores the odd and ordinary events of life, spotting what is unique, funny and absurd in the world around him. But for all its razor-sharp wit and snarky humor, Fraud is also, ultimately, an object lesson in not taking life, or oneself, too seriously.
240 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2001
253 people are currently reading
11596 people want to read
About the author
David Rakoff
18 books441 followersDavid Rakoff (November 27, 1964 – August 9, 2012) was an essayist, journalist, and actor. Originally from Canada, Rakoff was a graduate of Columbia University, he obtained dual Canadian-American citizenship in 2003, and resided for much of his life in New York City. His brother Simon is a stand-up comedian.
Rakoff wrote for the New York Times Magazine, Outside, GQ, Vogue and Salon. He was a frequent contributor to the radio program This American Life on Public Radio International.
Rakoff's essays have been collected in the books Fraud and Don’t Get Too Comfortable and are largely autobiographical and humorous. He was openly gay, and his writings have been compared to those of essayist and friend David Sedaris. Rakoff was even mistaken for Sedaris once while performing in a storefront window; both authors have written about this incident in their books.
Rakoff was featured in the This American Life episode 305, the holiday show on December 23, 2005, and episode 156, "What Remains", broadcast 21 March 2000. He was the only individual to host in place of Ira Glass a This American Life episode (Episode 248 - "Like It Or Not"). Rakoff made several appearances on the The Daily Show, and voiced the reading part of Thomas Jefferson for Jon Stewart's, America (The Book): A Citizen's Guide to Democracy Inaction.
Rakoff's acting roles included the Off-Broadway comedy play, The Book of Liz, authored by friends David and Amy Sedaris, the film Strangers with Candy, also co-written by Amy Sedaris, and a cameo in the film Capote.
Rakoff wrote for the New York Times Magazine, Outside, GQ, Vogue and Salon. He was a frequent contributor to the radio program This American Life on Public Radio International.
Rakoff's essays have been collected in the books Fraud and Don’t Get Too Comfortable and are largely autobiographical and humorous. He was openly gay, and his writings have been compared to those of essayist and friend David Sedaris. Rakoff was even mistaken for Sedaris once while performing in a storefront window; both authors have written about this incident in their books.
Rakoff was featured in the This American Life episode 305, the holiday show on December 23, 2005, and episode 156, "What Remains", broadcast 21 March 2000. He was the only individual to host in place of Ira Glass a This American Life episode (Episode 248 - "Like It Or Not"). Rakoff made several appearances on the The Daily Show, and voiced the reading part of Thomas Jefferson for Jon Stewart's, America (The Book): A Citizen's Guide to Democracy Inaction.
Rakoff's acting roles included the Off-Broadway comedy play, The Book of Liz, authored by friends David and Amy Sedaris, the film Strangers with Candy, also co-written by Amy Sedaris, and a cameo in the film Capote.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 430 reviews
July 31, 2008
It's unfortunate that my first impulse, one common to many readers, is to compare David Rakoff to David Sedaris. Because compared to Sedaris's winning alchemy of wit and absurdity, Rakoff's stories at first seem a little wan. To the hearty comedy that is "Me Talk Pretty One Day," "Fraud" might be a bitter, hemophiliac sibling. But I think I might prefer Rakoff for exactly this reason. Rakoff is less interested in mining a situation for its inherent inanity than he is in investigating his own cynical reactions to those situations. Where Sedaris is brightly, eagerly funny, and forthrightly sets out to endear himself to his readers, Rakoff is caustic and dark. His jokes don't have punchlines, except where, through a combination of pomposity and self-flagellation, he is himself the punchline.
One of many gems: "The average fertile thirty-five-year-old man has many million sperm, a few million of which are motile enough to knock someone up. When I get my results, I find that I have ten. Not ten million: ten. Three are dead in the water, and the other seven are technically motile but given a grade very close to dead... I come up with the idea of naming them. For all the male-of-the-species reproductive good they'll do me, I consider calling them all Janet. Then I settle on Radcliffe, Barnard, Bryn Mawr, Wellesley, Mount Holyoke, Smith, and Vassar."
Not to be too distracted by the comparison between Sedaris and Rakoff, I do think it's worth noting that Rakoff's essays have a fuller roundness. Whereas Sedaris's stories ramble a little like an anecdote delivered to a friend, Rakoff's stories are tighter, each finding by the conclusion the thematic thread of its introduction. Of course, there's much more to them as well. There is greater loneliness in these essays. Epiphanic moments illuminate the most alienating situations. One such moment comes as the author returns from a lonesome trip to Scotland over Passover: "I retire to the dining car. I sit, smoking and drinking a stunningly expensive beer across from a man who tucks in to his plate of haggis and peas. I smile at him in greeting. He does not know it, but this is our silent seder for two."
One of many gems: "The average fertile thirty-five-year-old man has many million sperm, a few million of which are motile enough to knock someone up. When I get my results, I find that I have ten. Not ten million: ten. Three are dead in the water, and the other seven are technically motile but given a grade very close to dead... I come up with the idea of naming them. For all the male-of-the-species reproductive good they'll do me, I consider calling them all Janet. Then I settle on Radcliffe, Barnard, Bryn Mawr, Wellesley, Mount Holyoke, Smith, and Vassar."
Not to be too distracted by the comparison between Sedaris and Rakoff, I do think it's worth noting that Rakoff's essays have a fuller roundness. Whereas Sedaris's stories ramble a little like an anecdote delivered to a friend, Rakoff's stories are tighter, each finding by the conclusion the thematic thread of its introduction. Of course, there's much more to them as well. There is greater loneliness in these essays. Epiphanic moments illuminate the most alienating situations. One such moment comes as the author returns from a lonesome trip to Scotland over Passover: "I retire to the dining car. I sit, smoking and drinking a stunningly expensive beer across from a man who tucks in to his plate of haggis and peas. I smile at him in greeting. He does not know it, but this is our silent seder for two."
March 2, 2008
I really wanted to like this book. Honestly, I really did. I love Rakoff's work on NPR's This American Llife, so I was really surprised as to how unlikeable this book was. At this point, the author had as of yet to cement his persona as a loveable curmudgeon, and instead comes off as cranky and self righteous. He also seems to be pre-occupied with the task of impressing the audience with his vast vocabulary, instead of drawing the reader into his work. Long story short, the subtext of this book is that the author is smarter and more cultured than you are. Skip this one and read his later works instead.
November 1, 2007
I was lucky enough to meet David Rakoff when I hosted him for a bookstore reading. Along with David Sedaris & Sarah Vowell, he was on an NPR speaking tour. He is definitely as entertaining as the aforementioned authors; seeing the 3 of them in a group reading was a highlight of my literary life.
His essays could best be characterized as lefty whining, but with tongue planted firmly in cheek. Hard to pick just one favorite in this collection, but the Steven Segal/Buddhist workshop piece is pretty great.
He is deadpan, hilarious, and a great reader. His years as a soap opera actor have served him well!
Bonus points for the illustrations of the author's own woodcuts.
His essays could best be characterized as lefty whining, but with tongue planted firmly in cheek. Hard to pick just one favorite in this collection, but the Steven Segal/Buddhist workshop piece is pretty great.
He is deadpan, hilarious, and a great reader. His years as a soap opera actor have served him well!
Bonus points for the illustrations of the author's own woodcuts.
December 17, 2007
One thing needs to happen before I can say I like David Rakof without wincing:
Some kind hearted thief needs to steal the man's thesaurus. I'm all for the three dollar words, but this man's vocabulary earns the adjective "audacious." To hear him read his work, when he trips over one of these little jewels, his voice slows to purr over it like a deer on a salt lick, and the effect is sickening. It's a shame, considering he is really funny and a true wit, when not mining his own prose with the literary equivalent of rotten easter eggs.
Some kind hearted thief needs to steal the man's thesaurus. I'm all for the three dollar words, but this man's vocabulary earns the adjective "audacious." To hear him read his work, when he trips over one of these little jewels, his voice slows to purr over it like a deer on a salt lick, and the effect is sickening. It's a shame, considering he is really funny and a true wit, when not mining his own prose with the literary equivalent of rotten easter eggs.
June 22, 2020
Rakoff’s first essay collection, published in 2001, is a mix of journalistic fieldwork-type endeavors and personal stories. I love his wit and dark humor. The last essay was strongest, still funny, yet profoundly heartbreaking, as he touched on his radiation treatments. Cancer ultimately took him from the world in 2012 at age 47.
October 19, 2011
I pity David Rakoff. It must be tough to go through life as a witty and urbane gay writer of amusingly embellished autobiographical essays frequently featured on This American Life named David, unless you are the other one. I'm not even going to say the other one's name, because I'm sure 90% of the reviews on here already mention it, and I want to stand out from the crowd.
(Hint: it ryhmes with "Ted, wear this.")
Yes, it's very well written and quite funny, but it's not fall-off-your-chair-laughing-until-it-hurts-and-then crawl-back-up-and-read-the-same-passage-again-to-see-if-it-will-still-have-the-same-impact-and-it-does funny. It's just a chuckle-lightly-to-yourself funny, occasionally peppered with an observation that might be mildly interesting, but could not be described as "thought-provoking" unless your thoughts are Irish and drunk.
When my niece was a baby, I looked a little bit like her daddy. At the time, we both sported bushy red beards and wore glasses. I recall an incident where she saw me and after a moment of joy, her face transformed into a gape of horror, followed by a wellspring of tears and screams. Because I looked enough like her daddy for her to briefly mistake me for him, but then she was crushed with disappointment at discovering an avuncular counterfeit.
I expect Rakoff suffers a similar reaction from readers. His writing and persona are enough like something very familiar and beloved by many that its failure to duplicate cannot be forgiven. I'm sorry to say he will never ever escape the comparison and will never be judged fairly. My pity can only go so far. I can't imagine he'd be nearly as successful as he has been were it not for the association, and the other David has a blurb, right there on the cover, which should make it clear that he'd rather be rich than judged on his own merits. He may be a fraud, but he's not a fool.
(Hint: it ryhmes with "Ted, wear this.")
Yes, it's very well written and quite funny, but it's not fall-off-your-chair-laughing-until-it-hurts-and-then crawl-back-up-and-read-the-same-passage-again-to-see-if-it-will-still-have-the-same-impact-and-it-does funny. It's just a chuckle-lightly-to-yourself funny, occasionally peppered with an observation that might be mildly interesting, but could not be described as "thought-provoking" unless your thoughts are Irish and drunk.
When my niece was a baby, I looked a little bit like her daddy. At the time, we both sported bushy red beards and wore glasses. I recall an incident where she saw me and after a moment of joy, her face transformed into a gape of horror, followed by a wellspring of tears and screams. Because I looked enough like her daddy for her to briefly mistake me for him, but then she was crushed with disappointment at discovering an avuncular counterfeit.
I expect Rakoff suffers a similar reaction from readers. His writing and persona are enough like something very familiar and beloved by many that its failure to duplicate cannot be forgiven. I'm sorry to say he will never ever escape the comparison and will never be judged fairly. My pity can only go so far. I can't imagine he'd be nearly as successful as he has been were it not for the association, and the other David has a blurb, right there on the cover, which should make it clear that he'd rather be rich than judged on his own merits. He may be a fraud, but he's not a fool.
February 9, 2011
Enjoyed it, didn't rock my world though - I think "Don't get too comfortable" which had more thematic cohesion is an overall better book. Having said that, I do like Rakoff's take on the world around him, especially on his travel pieces: he is able to take what is alien or strange and point out how this actually just comes from a perception or view of the world, not from the thing itself. And by engaging the world outside and not just doing a personal memoir (and, let's say it, bypassing some of the more outlandish amplifications / distortions of experience that a David Sedaris or Augusten Burroughs can be guilty of) he is much more relatable. He is also, infallibly, kind to his subjects (that highlighted review out there that says he keeps pointing how everything sucks is completely off the mark - take a look at his depiction of a nature survival training course and you'll find nothing but admiration for those involved). Overall, a good collection that ends in a high note (the last essay is a standout).
July 21, 2015
I expected this to be hilarious. It wasn't. It was mildly amusing a few times. That was all. This is David Sedaris without the likability. And Rakoff's attitude to animals in general, is pretty off putting.
May 14, 2021
So glad I was finally able to track down a copy of this book after having it on my "to-read" list for years. I'm a big fan of David Sedaris and I can see why he and Rakoff were friends. They have a similar sensibility and even a slightly similar style. If you're a fan of Sedaris you should give Rakoff a look.
There are some very funny essays in here. I especially enjoyed "Before and After Science," about his brush with Greek royalty at a Canadian ice cream shop. His complicated feelings about Steven Seagall in "Including One Called Hell" were hilarious. Same with his wilderness training in "Back to the Garden." "Tokyo Story" was probably my favorite because I am an absolute sucker for Tokyo stories of all kinds. Rakoff, we lost you too soon.
There are some very funny essays in here. I especially enjoyed "Before and After Science," about his brush with Greek royalty at a Canadian ice cream shop. His complicated feelings about Steven Seagall in "Including One Called Hell" were hilarious. Same with his wilderness training in "Back to the Garden." "Tokyo Story" was probably my favorite because I am an absolute sucker for Tokyo stories of all kinds. Rakoff, we lost you too soon.
August 13, 2013
This is the late essayist and NPR (This American Life) contributor’s first book. Two more followed in his too short life-span—he died in 2012 at 47. The cause was his second battle with cancer. A recounting of the first, when he was in his young 20s, closes this collection. A posthumous verse-novel has since been published to strong praise. The buzz for the novel and my own optimistic compulsion to begin at the beginning, assuming a good thing would only get better, led me to start with this volume of his essays, a vacation e-book purchase, but I was underwhelmed and I found nothing very much interesting here, mostly travel essays and a David Sedaris-like essay about posing as Freud for a clothing store’s holiday window display.
They say he got better and to the degree that order of appearance in the book represents chronology of origin there is reason to believe that. Three of the four final essays were the most interesting. An essay about Austrian math and science teachers imported into the New York City public school system, a return visit to Tokyo a number of years after his first post-college trip had been cut short by illness (his first cancer), and an essay written when he’d thought he was long clear of cancer and was thus a mature man’s attempt at closure via a trip to Toronto to track down his pre-chemo sperm deposit.
That essay was hard to read, particularly because at the start he discusses downplaying his bout with cancer, calling it “dilettante cancer,” partly because he feels guilty about being young and healthy again and partly because he had some denial about the seriousness of the illness, despite the chemo and its brutal side-effects. With the illness comfortably in his rear-view mirror he is ready to confront the reality of his experience, hence the visit to “his Eskimo Pie children.” The unintentional irony clouds the reading. The distraction of the irony, however, is about me, not him. And the irony is not serious, the cancer is. And even two seconds of thought makes you understand that it’s better that he thought he was done with cancer than expecting a sudden relapse every moment going forward, I found myself feeling as I read like someone in a movie theater wanting to yell at a character that Jason is right behind you. Stop talking and run! But the fool was me, not him, and I got through the essay thinking about what he likely did write in response to cancer’s return visit to him—how that would be sharp, funny, and likely courageous. It made me think that if I were to try another book by Rakoff it would be his third collection, Don’t Get Too Comfortable. In any event, this first collection was the wrong place for me to begin my reading relationship with the author.
They say he got better and to the degree that order of appearance in the book represents chronology of origin there is reason to believe that. Three of the four final essays were the most interesting. An essay about Austrian math and science teachers imported into the New York City public school system, a return visit to Tokyo a number of years after his first post-college trip had been cut short by illness (his first cancer), and an essay written when he’d thought he was long clear of cancer and was thus a mature man’s attempt at closure via a trip to Toronto to track down his pre-chemo sperm deposit.
That essay was hard to read, particularly because at the start he discusses downplaying his bout with cancer, calling it “dilettante cancer,” partly because he feels guilty about being young and healthy again and partly because he had some denial about the seriousness of the illness, despite the chemo and its brutal side-effects. With the illness comfortably in his rear-view mirror he is ready to confront the reality of his experience, hence the visit to “his Eskimo Pie children.” The unintentional irony clouds the reading. The distraction of the irony, however, is about me, not him. And the irony is not serious, the cancer is. And even two seconds of thought makes you understand that it’s better that he thought he was done with cancer than expecting a sudden relapse every moment going forward, I found myself feeling as I read like someone in a movie theater wanting to yell at a character that Jason is right behind you. Stop talking and run! But the fool was me, not him, and I got through the essay thinking about what he likely did write in response to cancer’s return visit to him—how that would be sharp, funny, and likely courageous. It made me think that if I were to try another book by Rakoff it would be his third collection, Don’t Get Too Comfortable. In any event, this first collection was the wrong place for me to begin my reading relationship with the author.
February 22, 2012
I purchased this book after hearing the author, David Rakoff, interviewed on NPR. He was witty, funny, and I couldn't wait to start reading.
I was profoundly disappointed.
Despite being a brilliant writer, I found this collection of essays to be one hateful diatribe after another. He states "I have yet to meet anyone outside of the press room, however, who does not actively revile Robin Williams," referring to him as "the Billy Joel of comedy, accessibly catchy in the initial moment, but with the shelf life of yogurt." Hmm, I wonder how many people have ever heard of David Rakoff? I'd be willing to bet the majority of people have heard of Billy Joel and Robin Williams.
Quote: "It's just so great to be able to be made to laugh again," says a woman outside the theater, her hand against her chest. Her voice is suffused with the relief of a patient whose fever has just broken or whose boil has been lanced. I roll my eyes in "get her" disgust at an acquaintance.
Quote (referring to Roberto Benigni and his film "Life Is Beautiful"): "Even his buffoonish appearance at the Academy Awards, where he didn't even have the decency to throw a bone to the millions who died in order to give him such great material by calling for that shameless yet requisite moment of silence: a vile, vile, morally reprehensible, shitty film!"
These excerpts are from an essay titled "The Best Medicine," and subsequent offerings dish up more of the same.
I'd say the best medicine is to stay away from this book. I came away feeling anxious, upset, and cheated. Satire is one thing; contempt quite another.
I was profoundly disappointed.
Despite being a brilliant writer, I found this collection of essays to be one hateful diatribe after another. He states "I have yet to meet anyone outside of the press room, however, who does not actively revile Robin Williams," referring to him as "the Billy Joel of comedy, accessibly catchy in the initial moment, but with the shelf life of yogurt." Hmm, I wonder how many people have ever heard of David Rakoff? I'd be willing to bet the majority of people have heard of Billy Joel and Robin Williams.
Quote: "It's just so great to be able to be made to laugh again," says a woman outside the theater, her hand against her chest. Her voice is suffused with the relief of a patient whose fever has just broken or whose boil has been lanced. I roll my eyes in "get her" disgust at an acquaintance.
Quote (referring to Roberto Benigni and his film "Life Is Beautiful"): "Even his buffoonish appearance at the Academy Awards, where he didn't even have the decency to throw a bone to the millions who died in order to give him such great material by calling for that shameless yet requisite moment of silence: a vile, vile, morally reprehensible, shitty film!"
These excerpts are from an essay titled "The Best Medicine," and subsequent offerings dish up more of the same.
I'd say the best medicine is to stay away from this book. I came away feeling anxious, upset, and cheated. Satire is one thing; contempt quite another.
July 10, 2018
This paperback and I have a history. Picked up a used copy at the Montclair Book Center in New Jersey in... sometime between 2009 and 2012. Rakoff was still alive, for sure, and my friend Rory — who knew him — recommended his writing to me. I remember happily reading from it at Villa Victoria Pizza (Montclair again, waiting to see a movie). I also remember struggling to read it during the summer of 2016, when illness was invading my body, and focus was a real challenge. Finally, I returned to Fraud.
Rakoff has a unique voice — he's a bit of a snob, bit of an intellectual, yet he's self-deprecating. And of course, very funny. But what I truly enjoyed about this book is that Rakoff was a journalist. Where his pal and fellow humorist Sedaris generally lives life and comments on it — and there is NOTHING wrong with that — Rakoff finds himself in odd and fascinating places and situations (a kibbutz; Steven Seagal-led spiritual retreat; seeking elves in Iceland; etc.). As a result there's a bit more "meat" to his essays.
I'll seek out more used Rakoff. He's not going to miss the royalties, after all. What, too soon??
Rakoff has a unique voice — he's a bit of a snob, bit of an intellectual, yet he's self-deprecating. And of course, very funny. But what I truly enjoyed about this book is that Rakoff was a journalist. Where his pal and fellow humorist Sedaris generally lives life and comments on it — and there is NOTHING wrong with that — Rakoff finds himself in odd and fascinating places and situations (a kibbutz; Steven Seagal-led spiritual retreat; seeking elves in Iceland; etc.). As a result there's a bit more "meat" to his essays.
I'll seek out more used Rakoff. He's not going to miss the royalties, after all. What, too soon??
September 29, 2013
I mentioned that I laughed until I cried at one of Rakoff's other books. From the first essay in this one, I offer two GORGEOUS quotes:
"His voice is velvet soft and Atticus Finch authoritative, but there's a sad whiff of mortality -- a smell of old leaves underneath everything he speaks of: the solitude of retirement, the nomadic life of the career renovator, the trial and test of faith that is building a butcher block island with sink, work area, and recessed halogen light fixtures. It's a bit like watching 'This Old House' hosted by Baudelaire."
"In New England everyone calls you "Dave" regardless of however many times you might introduce yourself as David. I am reminded of those fanatically religious homophobes who stand on the steps of St. Patrick's Cathedral during Gay Pride, holding signs that say "Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve!" I have always wanted to go up to them and say, "Well, of course not Adam and Steve. NEVER Adam and Steve. It's Adam and STEVEN."
I weep for joy!
"His voice is velvet soft and Atticus Finch authoritative, but there's a sad whiff of mortality -- a smell of old leaves underneath everything he speaks of: the solitude of retirement, the nomadic life of the career renovator, the trial and test of faith that is building a butcher block island with sink, work area, and recessed halogen light fixtures. It's a bit like watching 'This Old House' hosted by Baudelaire."
"In New England everyone calls you "Dave" regardless of however many times you might introduce yourself as David. I am reminded of those fanatically religious homophobes who stand on the steps of St. Patrick's Cathedral during Gay Pride, holding signs that say "Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve!" I have always wanted to go up to them and say, "Well, of course not Adam and Steve. NEVER Adam and Steve. It's Adam and STEVEN."
I weep for joy!
January 27, 2018
All of the essays in this collection have merit, and the one that closes the book is...well, if a better essay has ever been written, I'd very much like to read it. This one tells the story of his 'dilettante' bout with cancer which, sadly, came back and killed him a couple of years ago. The story he tells of those years filled me with a deep, multilevel sadness, but also included a couple of genuine belly laughs. This is not an easy thing for a writer to do.
Two other essays that evoked similar reactions that I've read lately include Sloane Crosley's "The Back of a Truck" and Shelley Puhak's "Eva, She Kill Her One Daughter."
I am in awe of all of these writers. I am a devotee of master essayist John McPhee, but even he cannot quite break through the emotional barrier that these three authors have managed.
Two other essays that evoked similar reactions that I've read lately include Sloane Crosley's "The Back of a Truck" and Shelley Puhak's "Eva, She Kill Her One Daughter."
I am in awe of all of these writers. I am a devotee of master essayist John McPhee, but even he cannot quite break through the emotional barrier that these three authors have managed.
August 12, 2008
This book was pretty good, but only kinda funny. There were some queeny one-liner gems ("oh, for a tiny lace smellie!") but on the whole i much preferred his second book, which had a much higher rate of laugh-out-loud funny. I did really, really like the last essay, "I Used to Bank Here, but That Was Long, Long Ago," about his recovery from cancer as a younger man, couched in a quest to locate a long-lost sperm sample from before the chemo left him sterile. It was a perfect balance of funny and serious. Overall, a solid three stars.
October 14, 2012
One of my all-time favourite short films is The New Tenants, in which David Rakoff has a supremely world-weary role. Fraud is a collection of essays - quite diverting and enjoyable for me because I can hear his distinctive voice. A light read but with some laugh-out-loud moments and occasional flirtations with profundity.
May 17, 2020
Rakoff’s written voice is at worst curmudgeonly with a holier than thou demeanor toward his subjects. At best he’s sardonically gossipy and somehow not very engaging. The cleverest part of his writing is his vocabulary. So he gets points for owning a thesaurus, but it’s as if he’s simply flaunting his intellect the way he mocks subjects such as the men who’ve hiked the same mountain every day for x number of years. Voices like this are a dime a dozen nowadays. It’s a personal preference of mine to enjoy my personal essayists with more open mindedness and empathy. What are we here for if not to find the humanity in something unfamiliar? I suppose I can’t begrudge the late writer for choosing to present the character he was going for on the page, as long as no one begrudges me for not remembering much of this collection by next week.
May 14, 2018
I found this collection to be pretty humorous but I think most of the essays were probably articles written for men’s magazines or similar? The set up: David goes to to Buddhist retreat; David goes to a Survivalist camp; David has a role on a Soap Opera; etc. I have also, no doubt, heard some of Radkoff’s contributions to This American Life without realizing it.
I particularly liked the essay titled “Lush Life” about his early days as a publishing assistant. It would make a great companion/supplement to My Salinger Year by Joanna Rakoff (hmmm, any relation?). The strongest essay IMO was the one titled “The Best Medicine” about the 2001 U.S. Comedy Arts Festival held in Aspen, CO.
I particularly liked the essay titled “Lush Life” about his early days as a publishing assistant. It would make a great companion/supplement to My Salinger Year by Joanna Rakoff (hmmm, any relation?). The strongest essay IMO was the one titled “The Best Medicine” about the 2001 U.S. Comedy Arts Festival held in Aspen, CO.
August 25, 2018
I liked this book more than HALF EMPTY, the prize winner by Rakoff. With the exception of his essay on his travels in Japan, I found them entertaining and provocative. He finishes with the best, as he contemplates immortality via donated sperm, looking cancer in the eye. I finished the book while visiting my sister and her husband; cancer is staring at him but neither seem to be ready to return the stare. One does not read in a vacuum.
Four stars
Four stars
January 10, 2019
This is a bit of a time capsule, seeing as it was published in 2001, prior to the events of 9/11. It was a very different time, those days of economic boom. So it's a bit of a trip to read this 18 years later. Make mistake, David Rakoff is NOT David Sedaris, and that's ok. He's still hilarious, in his own dark, sad way. The unifying theme here is that one way or another, we're all frauds, pretending to be something we're not. And that, too, is ok.
May 19, 2019
A dynamite essay collection. There are few writers out there that match Rakoff's distinct, cutting wit and ingenuity. Some of my favorite pieces: "Extraordinary Alien," the classic "Christmas Freud," and the touching (yet haunting) piece about his struggle with Hodgkin's disease, "I Used To Bank Here, But That Was A Long Time Ago."
November 2, 2019
Rakoff is one of my favorites but I haven't read him in a long time. I can't remember the introductory book I liked the most; these essays utilize his usual acerbic style, and while still humorous, slightly more bitter. His insight, both into himself and his environment, is always illuminating and intelligent and given that these essays were collected around the time he was first diagnosed with cancer which eventually killed him, it's not surprising that his mood was a bit dark.
January 27, 2022
After reading Mr. Rakoff's first essay I wondered if I really wanted to read another, but fortunately I did. Although I disliked the first essay, each of the following essays got better and better. A Canadian transplant who calls New York City home, he is a journalist, Jewish, gay, and possesses an amazing vocabulary. He has reported on some of the most unexpected and interesting topics. Honest, refreshing and original, I recommend this book highly (except for the first essay).
January 27, 2025
I love some snappy clever essays to break up longer books. Would've liked this about .5 stars more if I understood more of the pre-2000s cultural references
April 27, 2013
A collection of humorous essays, both autobiographical and based on journalistic assignments. A homosexual and a Jew, Rakoff plays up his neuroses and fears as he discusses his early career in publishing as the bottom rung of the assistant ladder; the cancer that forced him to leave Japan where he worked as a translator; his work as a bit actor in television. He’s self-effacing and funny, but also startlingly perspicacious; his insight on how teachers think (in his piece on Austrian cultural-exchange teachers in New York City) is full of empathy and understanding. He comes off as a far more erudite David Sedaris, name-dropping writers, classic movies, Freud’s Dora, and characters from literature, all with wit and élan (of a bluff old retired pilot who fixes up houses: “there’s a sad whiff of mortality… like watching ‘This Old House’ hosted by Beaudelaire”).
An actor, writer, spoken-word performer and not-too-bad draftsman (he did the chapter illustrations for this book), Rakoff comes off in this book as a talented man weighted down by fears and neuroses, the classic over-educated person whose very learning causes distress by revealing the complexity and indifference of the vast world – which made it all the sadder when I learned that he died of cancer last year. All of the pieces in this book have humor, pathos, and poignancy; they really do evoke a sense of being alone in the world. I enjoyed “In New England Everyone Calls You Dave,” an account of hiking up a small mountain in New Hampshire and how it brought to mind Rakoff’s ill-fated time on a kibbutz, and “Christmas Freud,” in which Rakoff plays Freud for a Christmas window at Barney’s, the most. They’re easily the funniest stories, and let Rakoff explore the absurd in the quotidian, and self-reflection in the absurd.
An actor, writer, spoken-word performer and not-too-bad draftsman (he did the chapter illustrations for this book), Rakoff comes off in this book as a talented man weighted down by fears and neuroses, the classic over-educated person whose very learning causes distress by revealing the complexity and indifference of the vast world – which made it all the sadder when I learned that he died of cancer last year. All of the pieces in this book have humor, pathos, and poignancy; they really do evoke a sense of being alone in the world. I enjoyed “In New England Everyone Calls You Dave,” an account of hiking up a small mountain in New Hampshire and how it brought to mind Rakoff’s ill-fated time on a kibbutz, and “Christmas Freud,” in which Rakoff plays Freud for a Christmas window at Barney’s, the most. They’re easily the funniest stories, and let Rakoff explore the absurd in the quotidian, and self-reflection in the absurd.
October 7, 2013
I read this book for my book club.
I didn’t find the book humorous, a couple of times I thought to myself, that was smart, but I don’t think I really laughed.
The highlight of the book is the author describing the origin of the term “23 skidoo” which I never knew.
The book is a series of unrelated essays, some on elves in Iceland, others on cancer, others on nature retreats.
I think my biggest problem was the author and I don’t think the same way. I don’t know of anyone who thinks this way though. Regarding the possibility of forced laughter, the author says:
“I’m suddenly reminded of that legendary medieval torture wherein infidels and malefactors, their chests constricted by tight leather straps, have salt poured on their feet. Goats are then brought in to lick the salt off and the victims expire in horrible, suffocating guffaws, unable to escape or draw their next breath.”
It seems a bit extreme.
In one paragraph we have the words jute, apparatchiks and gestalt. On one other page synecdoche, anodyne and thrum. I don’t know what any of these 6 words mean, and this was on three paragraphs. There’s an important lesson that when you have to explain the joke, it’s less funny. Similarly always using the dictionary function of my Kindle took away from the story. I don’t know what I would have done if I was reading the paperback.
The narrative felt strained, over-thought and over-worked while only being mildly amusing.
I didn’t find the book humorous, a couple of times I thought to myself, that was smart, but I don’t think I really laughed.
The highlight of the book is the author describing the origin of the term “23 skidoo” which I never knew.
The book is a series of unrelated essays, some on elves in Iceland, others on cancer, others on nature retreats.
I think my biggest problem was the author and I don’t think the same way. I don’t know of anyone who thinks this way though. Regarding the possibility of forced laughter, the author says:
“I’m suddenly reminded of that legendary medieval torture wherein infidels and malefactors, their chests constricted by tight leather straps, have salt poured on their feet. Goats are then brought in to lick the salt off and the victims expire in horrible, suffocating guffaws, unable to escape or draw their next breath.”
It seems a bit extreme.
In one paragraph we have the words jute, apparatchiks and gestalt. On one other page synecdoche, anodyne and thrum. I don’t know what any of these 6 words mean, and this was on three paragraphs. There’s an important lesson that when you have to explain the joke, it’s less funny. Similarly always using the dictionary function of my Kindle took away from the story. I don’t know what I would have done if I was reading the paperback.
The narrative felt strained, over-thought and over-worked while only being mildly amusing.
January 10, 2013
I first heard of David Rakoff after his death. An interview he had with Terry Gross was played in his memory on Fresh Air. It was an intriguing interview where he talked about the loss of his arm and at that time was hopeful that his cancer was not progressing. His way of speaking made me want to read his books and I'm so glad to have started with Fraud.
Fraud is a collection of Essays David wrote. Each one is fun and tells a story from a looking back perspective. You will laugh frequently while reading his witty descriptions and self deprecating analysis.
My favorite is "Tokyo Story". This is an emotional journey for him, revisiting Japan where he first discovered he had cancer. He had been there in 1986-87 and had his shortest job ever working 12 hours for an advertising firm that was starting a "computer network". Remember this is 1986 and so the internet and computers are not really heard of. This is his first time EVER using a mouse (utter mayhem!). At the end of the day he leaves thinking...
"Walking out of that office, as buoyant as someone who's had his Titanic reservations canceled I said to myself Sayonara suckers. Good luck with your "network"."
Hilarious!
Fraud is a collection of Essays David wrote. Each one is fun and tells a story from a looking back perspective. You will laugh frequently while reading his witty descriptions and self deprecating analysis.
My favorite is "Tokyo Story". This is an emotional journey for him, revisiting Japan where he first discovered he had cancer. He had been there in 1986-87 and had his shortest job ever working 12 hours for an advertising firm that was starting a "computer network". Remember this is 1986 and so the internet and computers are not really heard of. This is his first time EVER using a mouse (utter mayhem!). At the end of the day he leaves thinking...
"Walking out of that office, as buoyant as someone who's had his Titanic reservations canceled I said to myself Sayonara suckers. Good luck with your "network"."
Hilarious!
August 29, 2012
"What remains of your past if you didn't allow yourself to feel it when it happened?" This is one of several particularly haunting passages from the final essay in this, David Rakoff's first collection. At the time of his passing, I mistakenly thought I'd read all of his books, but it turned out I actually hadn't read the first. It was a bittersweet delight to be able to immerse myself in these impeccably written, exquisitely funny stories, having wrongly thought I'd already exhausted his catalog. My reading began and ended with little coincidences; I picked it up moments after finishing a Joni Mitchell bio, and Rakoff quotes a line from her song "Cactus Tree" that figured prominently in her bio almost immediately. Then, moments after I finished the book, the Wagner quote he references in the last essay (in which he poignantly writes about his experiences with cancer, at that point hoping it was behind him) was repeated on a TV show I was watching. Just weird little moments of happenstance. Reading Rakoff has always helped me to write and even think more clearly. I will miss his voice very much.
April 14, 2009
Meh. Got it hoping it would be Sedaris-y, and while the guy is obviously very smart and a good writer, this is what got me from really liking the thing: Okay, so his shtick is that he's a gay angsty New Yorker who's terribly lonely and sad and a perennial outsider, possibly because he's too much of a clever smartass to bear. HOWEVER! When you finally finish the collection you find that he has like, 200 people who he thanks in his acknowledgment section, which COMPLETELY negates the persona he's tried to develop in the essays, and casts this liars pall over the whole work. [ETA: Oh fine I get that the book is called Fraud, so that could be deliberate, but I'm not sure that unreliable narrators and personal essays are a super great mix. Unless your name is Frey.]
Pick it up in the bookstore and read the essay on the outdoors-man school, it's probably the best one there. Also flip through and check out the wood block prints (??? that's a guess) that open each chapter. They're quite nice.
Pick it up in the bookstore and read the essay on the outdoors-man school, it's probably the best one there. Also flip through and check out the wood block prints (??? that's a guess) that open each chapter. They're quite nice.
August 19, 2016
Very enjoyable. I especially enjoyed the essays about learning Buddhism from Steven Seagal, posing as a "Christmas Freud" for the window of Barney's, and interviewing teachers who were imported from Austria to teach in NYC public schools. My favorite line from that last essay I mentioned: "People keep asking us where we are from. We tell them Austria, they say, 'Oh Australia.' And we say, 'Austria,' and they say, 'Oh, but we call it Australia.' I tell them, 'No, it's absolutely different,' and they say, 'Oh, but it's the same area.' At almost that exact moment, a passing security guard asks excitedly if they are the Australian teachers."
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