While I'm waiting for more dreaded snow to arrive, I thought I'd finally get around to that blog on Augusten Burroughs. For those who aren't glued to the Book Review on Sunday, Burroughs has been near the top of the NY Times Bestseller list with two of his recent memoirs: Running with Scissors, and Dry.
Since most people, with the exception of Pete Rose, write one memoir a lifetime, you may be wondering what Burroughs has done in his 39 years to make his life so damn interesting, and does he ever get sick of being compared to David Sedaris?
Chronologically, Running with Scissors is the first book in the series. The book, released in 2002, is the story of Burroughs childhood at the hands of his mother's psychiatrist, Dr. Finch, and his extended family. Burroughs spends time with the Finch family on and off until his mother signs over custody of him at age 13.
The family lives in complete squalor in a sagging Victorian house with "nothing more than firmly packed earth with the look of heavy foot traffic" for a lawn and plastic covering all the windows. The house smells of wet dog and fried eggs, and the younger Finch daughters are entertained when their 2 year old nephew takes a shit on the floor. Burroughs is horrified, but somehow, he learns to adjust.
He also learns to adjust to the 33-year old "adopted" Finch son who rapes him and then continues to molest him for the next 3 years before disappearing, an anecdote that also appears in Dry.
Dry is the story of Burroughs's adult dependency on alcohol, and to a lesser extent crack, and his trip through rehab and recovery. If you can believe it, Dry is actually a bit darker than Running with Scissors. In the first book, there are some anecdotes that give you a feel for a real, if dysfunctional, family relationship. A sort of Me Talk Pretty One Day with child molestation thrown in.
Dry on the other hand, is just dark. Forced into rehab by concerned co-workers at his advertising agency, Augusten returns to his apartment after 30 days of sobriety to find 300 empty Dewar's bottles in his Manhattan studio. It takes him 7 hours to clean.
Not to ruin it for you, but both memoirs end on high notes, and Burroughs comparison to Sedaris is not completely unwarranted. While both are gay, chain smoking, middle-aged men who have found success in non-fiction accounts of their childhood and adult life, they also share a similarity in style and a knack for giving the reader the right amount of detail to connect to the story. I don't know a hippy, midget, guitar teacher, but I can certainly imagine one after Sedaris is through. Burroughs gives you that same feel but a few shades darker with the occassional chuckle but no laugh track. Recommended.
