
                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: SATURDAY, September 25, 1993                   TAG: 9404130003
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: B8   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: LARRY HACKETT NEW YORK DAILY NEWS
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

SEINFELD DOES HIS PART WITH `SEINLANGUAGE'

The postnasal bleat is not included, so the jokes sometimes lack that aural pitch, and could just as well be coming out of a perspiring fat guy. Anybody willing to spend $18.95 on this elongated cocktail napkin, however, is doing his part, just as Jerry asks.

``I've done my part,'' he tells us on page 3. ``The performance is up to you.''

``Seinlanguage,'' the publishing debut of comedian Jerry Seinfeld, should make Joe McGinniss jealous. Joe, if he can get a copy, will realize he wasted his time spelunking through Teddy Kennedy's psyche and should have worked on his body-odor jokes instead.

Joe, of course, can still write about Jerry if he wants to, since Jerry doesn't really write about Jerry at all. ``Seinlanguage'' (Bantam) is really nothing more than 180 pages of bits - very thick pages, at that, with really generous margins on the tops and bottoms, sort of like a really bad college term paper. Jerry's not in college, so we won't take any points off, but you ought to know.

On the other hand, ``Seinlanguage'' also has pictures of Jerry taken by Annie Leibovitz, which means Jerry is very, very now, and you should be honored to lighten yourself of $19 or so for the right to tuck this thing next to the towels in the bathroom.

The bits are from Jerry's standup routine and even from the bookend segments that frame his network series. When parsed, ``Seinlanguage'' slowly reveals the scaffolding of Seinfeld's worldview, which is basically: ``If I don't know it by now, I probably don't care and don't ever want to know it.''

I'm just a guy with thick cotton socks on, sitting on my couch, watching TV, Jerry seems to be saying without saying. By page 20, it's clear what we have here is a Woody with shame: a neurotic Peter Pan in Nike sneakers and pressed jeans.

If a particular neck of the cosmos can't be wrestled onto a plate or sucked into a Dustbuster, forget it. If it can't be described like a car, or a highway, or a hunk of mozzarella, take it away.

If this sounds harsh, it shouldn't. Jerry wouldn't talk to the Daily News because one of our columnists made fun of his girlfriend, but all is forgiven. Indeed, ``Seinlanguage'' can be a hoot. Its only misstep is Seinfeld's treacly thanks to his late father, whom he credits with getting him started.

``He taught me a gift is to be given,'' Jerry says - and he appears to be serious. ``I hope I am able to give it to you.'' Thanks, Jer. Now have a beer and be quiet.

Otherwise, Jerry trolls through the important stuff - dating, cars, friends, phone machines, jobs, opera, platform diving. It's obvious he's a guy who likes order and discipline. His last bit is about boxes and caskets, which sort of covers all the points for Jerry. He wonders why they bury men in a suit and with a pillow, which is a metaphysical killer of a query.

George, no doubt, will have the answer come fall.

by CNB