In his classic acidic and self-flagellating style, David Sedaris writes of his quirky family, odd childhood and ordinary life in “Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim.”

After the success of his last book, “Me Talk Pretty One Day,” his latest is a success all its own. Though the collection of essays mirror his previous work in style and subject, Sedaris has increasingly turned his wit inward, drawing attention to his own faults and insecurities.

In “Us and Them,” the neighbors down the block who don’t watch TV, and thus are an object of curiosity to the neighborhood, come a-knocking the day after Halloween all dressed up and asking for candy. Sedaris’ mom asks him to go get his own sweet bounty to give to the family, but Sedaris instead attempts to eat all of the best candy at once, shoving chocolate bars and waxed lips in his mouth to avoid the pain of giving it away.

“Nuit of the Living Dead” shows just how odd your own life can seem from the eyes of a stranger. At 3 a.m., a van full of lost travelers pulls up to Sedaris’ house to ask for directions. He’s on the porch trying to drown a mouse that had been caught in a trap, and when he takes the man asking for directions inside, he realizes how creepy his house must seem: the taxidermied chicken, baby monkey skull, length of rope, and dismembered finger pen casually strewn around.

“There seemed to be a theme developing, and everything I saw appeared to substantiate it: the almanac of guns and firearms suddenly prominent on the bookshelf, the meat cleaver lying for no apparent reason upon a photograph of our neighbor’s grandchild ‘Where does all this stuff come from’ I asked myself.”

Sedaris’ brother, Paul, becomes a new father in “Baby Einstein,” and the entire Sedaris family competes with Paul’s wife’s family to name the baby. “The Wilsons were nice people, but we see them as interlopers, potential threats standing between us and what we’d come to think of as the Sedaris baby.” Paul, a clownish, rough, and potty-mouthed floor sander changes with the birth of his daughter and becomes a loving, potty-mouthed father.

In all of the essays, Sedaris forces the reader to look at the quotidian with wonder.

Finding a new apartment becomes an exercise in realizing one’s own insensitivity, and talking to strangers from foreign countries shows just how ridiculous your own cultural practices and myths must seem.

Sedaris never goes for the cheap one-line joke, rather building up his stories with deadpan comments that make you laugh uproariously at how absurd the seemingly mundane can be.

It would not be a stretch to say that Sedaris is one of the funniest writers of our time, and if he keeps producing work like “Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim,” his popularity will not wane anytime soon.