One of the things my mom–a Filipina woman in her early 50s, whose delight in shows like Medium and Ghost Hunters boggles my mind–actually shares with me in terms of taste, is a deep love for David Sedaris.

I lent her a copy of Me Talk Pretty One Day, and she, like me, laughed so hard that she was often in tears. It’s one of the rare books that has actually made me laugh out loud hysterically and makes me laugh right now even thinking about it.

His stories are mainly autobiographical, centering on childhood, his family, his boyfriend, his many misadventures. They have tragedy and heart. They’re honest and never manipulative. His style is wry and self-aggrandizing, but they’re stripped down, and told from the gray area between how things happened and how they happened for him.

I saw Sedaris perform at Chrysler Hall a couple years ago, and his stories not only stood up to live reading, they were all the better told in his own strange, little voice. (For a preview, listen to one of his contributions to NPR’s This American Life.) He is sweet and affable, the kind of person you want to have at dinner parties because you know he’ll tell great stories without making everything all about him. In fact, he spoke to the audience as if he were at a dinner party that he seemed to really enjoy.

The reason I would say David Sedaris is a genius is not simply because he is a great writer and one of the greatest humorists of our time. It is because the source of his humor is so real and universal that both my mother and I get it, and we can both appreciate and love it for the same reason. It’s not so much like the humor of James Thurber or Ian Frazier or any other effete New Yorker type. Nor is it anything like the humor of Sacha Baron Cohen or Jon Stewart, who performed at Chrysler Hall this past Friday. It’s not parody. It doesn’t send anyone up really. Sedaris’ humor, to be frank, is in just a bunch of hilarious situations, told with simple wit and tenderness.

Sure, like Cohen and Stewart, he pokes fun at silly Americans for their homophobia, residual Puritan values, and blind patriotism. He’s gay, after all, and writes about it openly. One story that comes to mind is one that takes place in France, where Sedaris lives with his boyfriend. A couple American tourists were speaking loud, belligerent English on the metro, assuming for whatever reason that no one in France could understand English. The man, who stood just next to Sedaris as his arm was raised to hold steady on the train, said to his wife, “Ooh, this froggy is ripe!” What pleasure it truly is to read Sedaris’ ultimate revenge as he retells the story to millions of people in a New York Times bestseller.

But his humor lacks the sneer and condescension of those more extreme comedians. Because, well, he’s not a comedian. His sister Amy, of Strangers with Candy, with whom David has written with as “The Talent Family,” is the sure comedian of the two. He tells stories of her antics that will kill you.

No, David Sedaris is, in his heart, a storyteller. And as a storyteller, he writes not even to make us laugh but to find our common ground. I’ll put it this way, he’s a pot-smoking gay from Carolina that even my mother can relate to.

David Sedaris will perform tonight at 7:30 at Chrysler Hall. Tickets are still available, click here to purchase.