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Dry
You may not know it, but you've met Augusten Burroughs. You've seen him on the street, in bars, on the subway, at restaurants: a twenty-something guy, nice suit, works in advertising. Regular. Ordinary. But when the ordinary person had two drinks, Augusten was circling the drain by having twelve; when the ordinary person went home at midnight, Augusten never went home at all. Loud, distracting ties, automated wake-up calls, and cologne on the tongue could only hide so much for so long. At the request (well, it wasn't really a request) of his employers, Augusten landed in rehab, where his dreams of group therapy with Robert Downey, Jr., are immediately dashed by the grim reality of fluorescent lighting and paper hospital slippers. But when Augusten is forced to examine himself, something actually starts to click, and that's when he finds himself in the worst trouble of all. Because when his thirty days are up, he has to return to his same drunken Manhattan life and live it sober. What follows is a memoir that's as moving as it is funny, as heartbreaking as it is real.
293 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2003
About the author
Augusten Burroughs
26books8,884followersAugusten Burroughs born Christopher Robison, son of poet and writerMargaret Robisonand younger brother ofJohn Elder Robison.
Burroughs has no formal education beyond elementary school. A very successful advertising copywriter for over seventeen years, he was also an alcoholic who nearly drank himself to death in 1999. But spurned by a compulsion he did not understand, Burroughs began to write a novel. Never outlining or consciously structuring the book, Burroughs wrote, "as fast as I could type, to keep up." Seven days later, Augusten Burroughs had written his first book. He had also stopped drinking. The book was published one year later. Burroughs remains sober to this day. And Sellevision stands as Burroughs's only published novel. It is currently in development as a feature film.
Augusten's second book was a memoir. It was also a publishing phenomenon that helped to ignite a kind of memoir fever in America and abroad. Running with Scissors was released in 2001 to virtually unanimous critical acclaim. The memoir would ultimately remain on the New York Times bestseller list for over four consecutive years, eight months of which were spent in the #1 position. The film, starring Annette Benning, Gwyneth Paltrow, Jill Clayburgh and Alec Baldwin was released in 2005.
He has since published four additional autobiographical volumes (Dry, Possible Side Effects, Magical Thinking and A Wolf at the Table), all of them bestsellers. Currently published in over thirty countries, Augusten's book readings have become massively popular events on numerous continents. He has also headlined for the most prestigious literary festivals in the world, most recently the 2008 Melbourne writer's Festival, where he and Germaine Greer delivered the keynote addresses on opening night. In addition, Burroughs speaks regularly at colleges and universities on topics ranging from alcoholism and sexual abuse to the art of authoring one's own life and humor as serious medicine.
Twice honored by Entertainment Weekly as one of 25 funniest people in America, Burroughs shocked fans and the media alike with the release of A Wolf at the Table in early 2008. The brutal, terrifying and decidedly unfunny book instantly generated a storm of publicity and controversy. Critics were deeply divided, and the book received some of the worst -and best- reviews of the author's career. The book tour for A Wolf at the Table, spanned some six months and four countries, as Augusten performed for the largest crowds of his career. A Wolf at the Table is Augusten's bestselling hardcover to date.
While critics continue to challenge the veracity of Burroughs's books, questioning everything from his alcoholism and advertising career to his earliest childhood memories, the author remains nonplussed, even philosophical. "To be a journalist with a major American newspaper or magazine, you have to have an A-list college education. And to get into that A-list college, you had to do very well in the right high school. So the chances are, you were not being fucked up the ass at age twelve by a pedophile. The facts of my life are generally questioned by extremely privileged and well-educated people who, more likely than not, learned most of what they know about life's dangerous, shocking and sometimes unbelievable underbelly from books, television and the occasional Quentin Tarrantino film. The reason my books continue to sell, despite frequently being dismissed as" unbelievable, "is because the people who read my books recognize the truth that is in them. They know the scent. They have smelled it. The very details the media view with such suspicion are the same details that prove to my reader, this guy was there. I remember that, too."
http://us.macmillan.com/author/august...
Burroughs has no formal education beyond elementary school. A very successful advertising copywriter for over seventeen years, he was also an alcoholic who nearly drank himself to death in 1999. But spurned by a compulsion he did not understand, Burroughs began to write a novel. Never outlining or consciously structuring the book, Burroughs wrote, "as fast as I could type, to keep up." Seven days later, Augusten Burroughs had written his first book. He had also stopped drinking. The book was published one year later. Burroughs remains sober to this day. And Sellevision stands as Burroughs's only published novel. It is currently in development as a feature film.
Augusten's second book was a memoir. It was also a publishing phenomenon that helped to ignite a kind of memoir fever in America and abroad. Running with Scissors was released in 2001 to virtually unanimous critical acclaim. The memoir would ultimately remain on the New York Times bestseller list for over four consecutive years, eight months of which were spent in the #1 position. The film, starring Annette Benning, Gwyneth Paltrow, Jill Clayburgh and Alec Baldwin was released in 2005.
He has since published four additional autobiographical volumes (Dry, Possible Side Effects, Magical Thinking and A Wolf at the Table), all of them bestsellers. Currently published in over thirty countries, Augusten's book readings have become massively popular events on numerous continents. He has also headlined for the most prestigious literary festivals in the world, most recently the 2008 Melbourne writer's Festival, where he and Germaine Greer delivered the keynote addresses on opening night. In addition, Burroughs speaks regularly at colleges and universities on topics ranging from alcoholism and sexual abuse to the art of authoring one's own life and humor as serious medicine.
Twice honored by Entertainment Weekly as one of 25 funniest people in America, Burroughs shocked fans and the media alike with the release of A Wolf at the Table in early 2008. The brutal, terrifying and decidedly unfunny book instantly generated a storm of publicity and controversy. Critics were deeply divided, and the book received some of the worst -and best- reviews of the author's career. The book tour for A Wolf at the Table, spanned some six months and four countries, as Augusten performed for the largest crowds of his career. A Wolf at the Table is Augusten's bestselling hardcover to date.
While critics continue to challenge the veracity of Burroughs's books, questioning everything from his alcoholism and advertising career to his earliest childhood memories, the author remains nonplussed, even philosophical. "To be a journalist with a major American newspaper or magazine, you have to have an A-list college education. And to get into that A-list college, you had to do very well in the right high school. So the chances are, you were not being fucked up the ass at age twelve by a pedophile. The facts of my life are generally questioned by extremely privileged and well-educated people who, more likely than not, learned most of what they know about life's dangerous, shocking and sometimes unbelievable underbelly from books, television and the occasional Quentin Tarrantino film. The reason my books continue to sell, despite frequently being dismissed as" unbelievable, "is because the people who read my books recognize the truth that is in them. They know the scent. They have smelled it. The very details the media view with such suspicion are the same details that prove to my reader, this guy was there. I remember that, too."
http://us.macmillan.com/author/august...
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 3,805 reviews
June 28, 2024
Ever wonder why John Elder Robison (Look me in the Eye) snapped out of his Asperger's as a young adult? Simple.
Booze.
It ran in the family: in all its other members.
It was like ice water on his childishness.
John's half-brother Augusten wrote this book about those old days. Now you know why the name of that sixties song is Days of Wine and Roses...
Cause all Augusten saw (for it ran in the family) were the Roses in the drink, leading him ever on and on...
Until he hit Rock Bottom.
And became Dry by choice.
Alcohol's hook is the Roses. But life's not all fun 'n games.
***
My friend Larry (Proud Father-Confessor of various Friends of Bill W) was defiantly Dry (at least I, not being one of those AA Friends, never heard otherwise):
To the extent that he had lost the unforced joie de vivre of his inner child. His tough coming of age had spawned inner fury.
Enter his green new boss: me. I had 'saved' my inner child at my own violent coming of age: So it now ran roughshod over my life, wreaking rack and ruin: as half a bipolar persona. My dark side I suppressed.
So we were immediately at loggerheads. You see, we were each other's Jungian Shadows: each was the self the other publicly suppressed. At great cost, I might add.
The result? We resolutely forced ourselves to live in our daylight selves.
And while I became more conflicted, strangling my dark side, Larry became more stridently raunchy and belligerent. He reminded me of McMurphy in Cuckoo's Nest.
When we parted at retirement, we were still uneasy buddies, though.
***
Three years ago Larry called me again. He was dying of mouth cancer (he was a lifetime smoker). But there was a different, more human timbre in his voice. It was a sense of peace.
Small wonder, really: he had performed a lifetime of service for Bill W.
He was an eminence grise for so many engineers who had needed his help at work.
He was a lifetime lover of his dear wife and provider for his two kids.
He was a beautiful guy.
And now - at last - his inner child was calling him Home.
***
Yes, and Augusten Burroughs went Dry too.
And I too went dry - around 2010, though I missed my two daily shots of bourbon.
You see, those two shots had become a quart.
So by losing we Won.
My thanks to Larry, too.
You know, this memoir is to Die For, it's so good.
And so sadly hilarious and so Downright Brave.
And so Unabashedly, Deucedly Human.
Like my friend Larry at the end.
And like me.
And, maybe my positivity had helped.
For that day I told him I was dry, too.
And he had stayed Dry and loved that freedom.
At LAST we had connected. It was priceless.
*****
FIVE HUGE STARS, friends (Count 'em)!
It's so good, and you'll love it.
Booze.
It ran in the family: in all its other members.
It was like ice water on his childishness.
John's half-brother Augusten wrote this book about those old days. Now you know why the name of that sixties song is Days of Wine and Roses...
Cause all Augusten saw (for it ran in the family) were the Roses in the drink, leading him ever on and on...
Until he hit Rock Bottom.
And became Dry by choice.
Alcohol's hook is the Roses. But life's not all fun 'n games.
***
My friend Larry (Proud Father-Confessor of various Friends of Bill W) was defiantly Dry (at least I, not being one of those AA Friends, never heard otherwise):
To the extent that he had lost the unforced joie de vivre of his inner child. His tough coming of age had spawned inner fury.
Enter his green new boss: me. I had 'saved' my inner child at my own violent coming of age: So it now ran roughshod over my life, wreaking rack and ruin: as half a bipolar persona. My dark side I suppressed.
So we were immediately at loggerheads. You see, we were each other's Jungian Shadows: each was the self the other publicly suppressed. At great cost, I might add.
The result? We resolutely forced ourselves to live in our daylight selves.
And while I became more conflicted, strangling my dark side, Larry became more stridently raunchy and belligerent. He reminded me of McMurphy in Cuckoo's Nest.
When we parted at retirement, we were still uneasy buddies, though.
***
Three years ago Larry called me again. He was dying of mouth cancer (he was a lifetime smoker). But there was a different, more human timbre in his voice. It was a sense of peace.
Small wonder, really: he had performed a lifetime of service for Bill W.
He was an eminence grise for so many engineers who had needed his help at work.
He was a lifetime lover of his dear wife and provider for his two kids.
He was a beautiful guy.
And now - at last - his inner child was calling him Home.
***
Yes, and Augusten Burroughs went Dry too.
And I too went dry - around 2010, though I missed my two daily shots of bourbon.
You see, those two shots had become a quart.
So by losing we Won.
My thanks to Larry, too.
You know, this memoir is to Die For, it's so good.
And so sadly hilarious and so Downright Brave.
And so Unabashedly, Deucedly Human.
Like my friend Larry at the end.
And like me.
And, maybe my positivity had helped.
For that day I told him I was dry, too.
And he had stayed Dry and loved that freedom.
At LAST we had connected. It was priceless.
*****
FIVE HUGE STARS, friends (Count 'em)!
It's so good, and you'll love it.
February 3, 2008
After reading Dry I went over to Cedar Tavern for a martini. I don’t normally drink martinis, but according to Augusten Burroughs, the famous Cedar Tavern on University Place in Manhattan serves huge ones ( “enormous; great bowls of vodka soup” ) - so you get the most of what you pay for. But as it turned out their martinis are actually rather small, the opposite of Burroughs’ claim. And the bartender on the second floor told me that the martinis have been the same size for at least five years since he began working there. So what the fuck is Burroughs talking about?
Not that I was surprised by this. While reading Dry – a “memoir” about overcoming the “disease” of alcoholism - I couldn’t help but think Burroughs had, um, invented many of the book’s anecdotes and conversations. The Cedar Tavern trip confirmed the suspicions.
Do a little research and discover the writer Augusten Burroughs as a liar on many levels. First, his real name is Christopher Robison. I can’t fully read his twisted mind, but it’s pretty clear the name-change is supposed to lend his authorial presence more grandeur. Is he trying to sound aristocratic? Sophisticated? British? As if he were William S. Burroughs’ son? Or what? You really should know you’re on the wrong track when you do the opposite of Mark Twain, who changed his high-sounding given name of Samuel Clemens into something people like Augusten Burroughs would likely describe as common.
About half of Dry is dialogue, and I wondered how Burroughs could recall all those intricate conversations, word for word, especially if he was drinking a liter of scotch every night, as he claims. We aren’t even given any prefatory disclaimer, as memoirs often issue, about how the conversations are recalled to the best of the author’s ability. Here’s a typical exchange (note that “Hayden” is a friend Burroughs met at their Minnesota-based rehab clinic):
Hayden is aghast. “That seems hostile,” he says.
“Rick’s a fuck. He’s a homophobic closet case and he hasn’t got an ounce of talent. He just hitched his wagon to Elenor years ago and she’s too busy to notice he’s as dumb as a box of hair.”
Hayden takes a long sip of water. “You have to keep an eye on this Rick person.”
For starters, even if you had remembered saying something as retarded as ‘dumb as a box of hair’ you wouldn’t publish it for the world to see, would you? Anyway, that’s simply not a line someone just improvises in the middle of a chat. That’s a line a bad writer cooks up because he can’t think of anything else to put down on the page. Hayden taking a ‘long’ sip of water (rather than, say, a short sip) is a nice touch, don’t ya think? That’s true literary talent right there for you.
The only part of Dry I didn’t hate is the very beginning when Burroughs is still routinely getting shit-faced. The buzz is officially killed on page 33 when he checks into rehab. It doesn’t even get dimly interesting again until page 257 after Burroughs falls off the wagon. The 200 or so pages in between are of course replete with a lot of AA/rehab talk and sermonizing. But mostly for Burroughs, the sober pages are just an excuse for the author to tell us all about himself and his dull relationships with co-workers and boyfriends. Unlike some of his fellow AA friends, he says he has no trouble staying sober, and even quickly stops attending meetings, so that he can instead focus the narrative on the drama of his relationships, whether we like it or not. Alcohol is rarely mentioned during these pages except when Burroughs feels the need to remind the reader that this is still a story about alcoholism. For instance, somewhere in the middle of the book, he concocts a tale about how he once went to a bar by himself and almost ordered a beer but then pulled himself together at the last second, settling for a Diet Coke. We are supposed to care and empathize with what is obviously an imagined scene. And then he’ll end certain sections by pretending to have a craved a drink at whatever point he’s at in his fascinating relationship memoir: “I have a sudden longing for a Cape Codder,” he’ll tell us, out of nowhere, leaving it at that. In hindsight, I realize these lines are intended to foreshadow his eventual return to drink. This is a story after all, so it really doesn’t matter if any of those longings actually happened.
In one scene after he quit drinking he describes emptying a bottle of scotch into the toilet: “I flush twice. And then I think, why did I flush twice? The answer, [sic] is of course, because I truly do not know myself. I cannot be sure I won’t attempt to drink from the toilet, like a dog.”
Sorry folks, but I’m just not buying this schlock. And I’m happy to say that I didn’t buy this schlock – the book was given as a gift. One flush wouldn’t get rid of the booze?? One flush wouldn’t prevent Burroughs from sticking his face into the toilet bowl to drink the (now alcohol-free) water? I don’t know how anyone could believe any of this. To begin with, Burroughs wasn’t that bad an alcoholic. He wasn’t knocking back cologne or anything. He’s a rich-boy, then advertising copywriter whose worst offense was to overindulge on martinis and Dewar’s, with perhaps a little blow on the side. If you quit that, you don’t fall off the wagon by drinking toilet water. You simply go to the liquor store and buy another bottle.
And I think this yarn is the winner: He tells us that his spacious Manhattan apartment is “clean and modern in design” except that it is ridden with empty liquor bottles. “Three hundred one-liter bottles of scotch…And when I used to drink beer instead of scotch, the beer bottles would collect. I counted the beer bottles once: one thousand, four hundred and fifty-two,” he writes, expecting to horrify us. Now, I don’t believe any of this for a second, but if it is actually true, then the trouble here is that Burroughs is just a fucking nutcase, and alcoholism is the least of his problems. Think about it: he spends his time inventing stories that he passes off as biography. That’s pretty twisted if you ask me.
Burroughs himself tells us that he didn’t even realize leaving thousands of empty bottles on the floor was abnormal, until the subject was brought up in rehab. He also pretends to have not known that the very purpose of rehab is to make people dry. Without a trace of irony, Burroughs writes, “Sober. So that’s what I’m here to become.” Yeah right, like he didn’t know. For some reason, I can’t help but think that this sort of contrived stupidity plays well with the American public.
So here’s my verdict on this book: Like other “memoir” specialists Dave Eggers and more notoriously James Frey, Burroughs’ only goal is self-promotion. The book is a con job written for the sort of people who consider themselves hip and liberal but secretly watch America’s Funniest Home Videos. Ostensibly the memoir is about alcoholism but like I said that’s not what it’s really about. The only subject discussed at length is Augusten Burroughs and all of his tedious relationships. “Dry” is definitely the operative word here, but not for the stated reason. Alcohol is just the decoy plot, so that the author and publisher can rationalize the appearance of yet another Burroughs reflection on his ordinary or otherwise tiresome life. There are no ideas in this book. No insights. No worthy discussion of booze and drugs. It is shallow, written, apparently, for fans of Elle, People and Time magazines and for Oprah Winfrey, as the laudatory quotes on the back of the book indicate. And this is what pathetically passes for good, edgy, humorous writing in America these days. And I suppose the question of whether it’s memoir or as I argue fiction is ultimately trumped by the unavoidable conclusion that this book is quite simply the literary equivalent of dog shit, not fit for consumption by anyone who has taste, never mind an ability to detect fraudulence.
Not that I was surprised by this. While reading Dry – a “memoir” about overcoming the “disease” of alcoholism - I couldn’t help but think Burroughs had, um, invented many of the book’s anecdotes and conversations. The Cedar Tavern trip confirmed the suspicions.
Do a little research and discover the writer Augusten Burroughs as a liar on many levels. First, his real name is Christopher Robison. I can’t fully read his twisted mind, but it’s pretty clear the name-change is supposed to lend his authorial presence more grandeur. Is he trying to sound aristocratic? Sophisticated? British? As if he were William S. Burroughs’ son? Or what? You really should know you’re on the wrong track when you do the opposite of Mark Twain, who changed his high-sounding given name of Samuel Clemens into something people like Augusten Burroughs would likely describe as common.
About half of Dry is dialogue, and I wondered how Burroughs could recall all those intricate conversations, word for word, especially if he was drinking a liter of scotch every night, as he claims. We aren’t even given any prefatory disclaimer, as memoirs often issue, about how the conversations are recalled to the best of the author’s ability. Here’s a typical exchange (note that “Hayden” is a friend Burroughs met at their Minnesota-based rehab clinic):
Hayden is aghast. “That seems hostile,” he says.
“Rick’s a fuck. He’s a homophobic closet case and he hasn’t got an ounce of talent. He just hitched his wagon to Elenor years ago and she’s too busy to notice he’s as dumb as a box of hair.”
Hayden takes a long sip of water. “You have to keep an eye on this Rick person.”
For starters, even if you had remembered saying something as retarded as ‘dumb as a box of hair’ you wouldn’t publish it for the world to see, would you? Anyway, that’s simply not a line someone just improvises in the middle of a chat. That’s a line a bad writer cooks up because he can’t think of anything else to put down on the page. Hayden taking a ‘long’ sip of water (rather than, say, a short sip) is a nice touch, don’t ya think? That’s true literary talent right there for you.
The only part of Dry I didn’t hate is the very beginning when Burroughs is still routinely getting shit-faced. The buzz is officially killed on page 33 when he checks into rehab. It doesn’t even get dimly interesting again until page 257 after Burroughs falls off the wagon. The 200 or so pages in between are of course replete with a lot of AA/rehab talk and sermonizing. But mostly for Burroughs, the sober pages are just an excuse for the author to tell us all about himself and his dull relationships with co-workers and boyfriends. Unlike some of his fellow AA friends, he says he has no trouble staying sober, and even quickly stops attending meetings, so that he can instead focus the narrative on the drama of his relationships, whether we like it or not. Alcohol is rarely mentioned during these pages except when Burroughs feels the need to remind the reader that this is still a story about alcoholism. For instance, somewhere in the middle of the book, he concocts a tale about how he once went to a bar by himself and almost ordered a beer but then pulled himself together at the last second, settling for a Diet Coke. We are supposed to care and empathize with what is obviously an imagined scene. And then he’ll end certain sections by pretending to have a craved a drink at whatever point he’s at in his fascinating relationship memoir: “I have a sudden longing for a Cape Codder,” he’ll tell us, out of nowhere, leaving it at that. In hindsight, I realize these lines are intended to foreshadow his eventual return to drink. This is a story after all, so it really doesn’t matter if any of those longings actually happened.
In one scene after he quit drinking he describes emptying a bottle of scotch into the toilet: “I flush twice. And then I think, why did I flush twice? The answer, [sic] is of course, because I truly do not know myself. I cannot be sure I won’t attempt to drink from the toilet, like a dog.”
Sorry folks, but I’m just not buying this schlock. And I’m happy to say that I didn’t buy this schlock – the book was given as a gift. One flush wouldn’t get rid of the booze?? One flush wouldn’t prevent Burroughs from sticking his face into the toilet bowl to drink the (now alcohol-free) water? I don’t know how anyone could believe any of this. To begin with, Burroughs wasn’t that bad an alcoholic. He wasn’t knocking back cologne or anything. He’s a rich-boy, then advertising copywriter whose worst offense was to overindulge on martinis and Dewar’s, with perhaps a little blow on the side. If you quit that, you don’t fall off the wagon by drinking toilet water. You simply go to the liquor store and buy another bottle.
And I think this yarn is the winner: He tells us that his spacious Manhattan apartment is “clean and modern in design” except that it is ridden with empty liquor bottles. “Three hundred one-liter bottles of scotch…And when I used to drink beer instead of scotch, the beer bottles would collect. I counted the beer bottles once: one thousand, four hundred and fifty-two,” he writes, expecting to horrify us. Now, I don’t believe any of this for a second, but if it is actually true, then the trouble here is that Burroughs is just a fucking nutcase, and alcoholism is the least of his problems. Think about it: he spends his time inventing stories that he passes off as biography. That’s pretty twisted if you ask me.
Burroughs himself tells us that he didn’t even realize leaving thousands of empty bottles on the floor was abnormal, until the subject was brought up in rehab. He also pretends to have not known that the very purpose of rehab is to make people dry. Without a trace of irony, Burroughs writes, “Sober. So that’s what I’m here to become.” Yeah right, like he didn’t know. For some reason, I can’t help but think that this sort of contrived stupidity plays well with the American public.
So here’s my verdict on this book: Like other “memoir” specialists Dave Eggers and more notoriously James Frey, Burroughs’ only goal is self-promotion. The book is a con job written for the sort of people who consider themselves hip and liberal but secretly watch America’s Funniest Home Videos. Ostensibly the memoir is about alcoholism but like I said that’s not what it’s really about. The only subject discussed at length is Augusten Burroughs and all of his tedious relationships. “Dry” is definitely the operative word here, but not for the stated reason. Alcohol is just the decoy plot, so that the author and publisher can rationalize the appearance of yet another Burroughs reflection on his ordinary or otherwise tiresome life. There are no ideas in this book. No insights. No worthy discussion of booze and drugs. It is shallow, written, apparently, for fans of Elle, People and Time magazines and for Oprah Winfrey, as the laudatory quotes on the back of the book indicate. And this is what pathetically passes for good, edgy, humorous writing in America these days. And I suppose the question of whether it’s memoir or as I argue fiction is ultimately trumped by the unavoidable conclusion that this book is quite simply the literary equivalent of dog shit, not fit for consumption by anyone who has taste, never mind an ability to detect fraudulence.
May 13, 2023
4.5 stars
Augusten Burroughs
Augusten Burroughs is an American writer who's perhaps best known for his memoir "Running With Scissors", which documents his strange, abusive childhood. In brief, Augusten's parents divorced when he was young, and his unstable mother gave him to her Massachusetts psychiatrist, Dr. Finch. Augusten lived with crazy people in the doctor's filthy home, never went to school, and became the obsession of a pedophile that lived in a barn behind the house. The book was adapted into a 2006 movie.
Augusten Burrough's first memoir, "Running With Scissors"
Movie poster from the film "Running With Scissors"
"Dry" picks up a decade or so after "Running With Scissors", when Burroughs is a successful twentysomething copywriter in New York City, pulling down a six-figure salary. Burroughs is a talented advertising man but his personal life is a mess. He can't handle responsibility, doesn't pay his bills until they go into collection, and (despite being well off) sometimes loses his phone service and utilities. Burroughs is also a serious drunk who's frequently late to work, and often shows up stinking of alcohol.
After Burroughs misses an important meeting with a client his boss gives him an ultimatum: Go to rehab or get fired. Burroughs decides on rehab, and confides the news to his two closest friends: Jim - an undertaker and drinking buddy who's shocked at the news; and Pigface - a banker and former lover who's glad to hear it.
This kind of story can be grim but Burroughs tells his tale with humor.....and affection for the collection of misfits he meets along the way. 😎🧡
Burroughs (who's gay) chooses to go to rehab at the Pride Institute in Minnesota - a clinic that specializes in treating addiction in the LGBTQ community. Burroughs pictures the facility as resembling an Ian Schrager boutique hotel - with gourmet food, a pool, a spa, etc. Thus the author is brought up short when he arrives and sees a plain setting that assigns three patients to a room and serves fish cakes for lunch.
Therapy at the facility is a regimented affair, with constant meetings: group meetings, individual meetings, affirmation meetings, and so on - all directed at 'sharing.'
During Burroughs first group meeting he hears addicts talk about the harmful results of their drinking: car accidents; facial lacerations; and - worst of all - a paralyzed mother. One of Burroughs' roommates, a psychiatrist (who Burroughs thinks of as Dr. Valium), later admits that he came to the point of stealing ALL his patients' Valium, and replacing it with aspirin. Dr. Valium is now in danger of losing his medical license....and frets that all his expensive education will go to waste.
Burroughs thinks: "I'm DEFINITELY in the wrong place. This is for hard-core alcoholics; rock-bottom, ruined-their-lives alcoholics. I'm an advertising alcoholic, an eccentric mess."
It takes some time for Burroughs to admit he really DOES belong in rehab, that he's had unrelenting substance abuse problems since childhood.....when he started taking pills and drinking wine at Dr. Finch's house. The feeling is reinforced when Burroughs thinks about the current condition of his New York apartment, where "300 empty Dewar's bottles occupy all the floor space not already occupied by a bed or chair." Previously, when Burroughs used to drink beer, he once collected 1,452 beer bottles.
Burroughs does his obligatory 30 days in rehab, which - he makes clear - is the easy part of 'recovery.' The real work begins afterwards, when there's no built-in professional support system and the addict is once again exposed to all the old temptations. In Burroughs' case, this includes friends like Jim the undertaker, who parties hard every night.
Once he's out of rehab - and back in New York - Burroughs is supposed to go to group meetings AND individual meetings for six months, and to attend Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) meetings EVERY SINGLE DAY for the rest of his life. Of course this is easier said than done, and Augusten immediately begins to make mistakes.
First Augusten develops a relationship with a fellow group therapy patient - a stunningly handsome South Carolinian named Foster - who has a great body, black hair, and blue eyes. Any romantic relationship directly after rehab is discouraged, and hooking up with a fellow addict is verboten - but Augusten can't help himself. On top of that, Augusten takes in a roommate he met at the Pride Institute - an intelligent, British music editor called Hayden, who's addicted to crack cocaine and alcohol. Thus, instead of avoiding addicts, Burroughs gets embedded with them.
Worse yet, Pighead - who's the (unacknowledged) love of Augusten's life - tests positive for the HIV virus. Burroughs starts to feel depressed and realizes he misses alcohol, the loss of which "is like dealing with a death in the family."
Burroughs also faces issues at work, where a hostile colleague, Rick, plots to get him drinking again; a 'Nazi-like' German client insists on an ill-advised advertising campaign; and his female work partner, Greer, is resentful of his (supposed) newfound insights about life.
The ensuing drama with Foster, Hayden, Rick, Greer, and the advertising firm - and most especially Pighead's illness - upend Augusten's life. After a prolonged 'hiccupping' illness, Pighead is in a hospital bed hooked up to machines, and Augusten helps to care for him, change his diapers, keep him company, and so on. This takes a great toll.
Burroughs struggles, falls, and eventually recovers, but it's a long hard slog that's well worth reading about....for the insights and the laughs (if you can believe it 🙂).
I should mention that Burroughs acknowledges 'fictionalizing' some elements of the story. He says: "This memoir is based on my experiences over a ten-year period. Names have been changed, characters combined, and events compressed. Certain episodes are imaginative re-creation, and those episodes are not intended to portray actual events." The fictionalization doesn't bother me because I think most memoirists do it to some extent.
After reading this book I think I understand addiction - and the stranglehold it gets on people - a little better. I'd highly recommend the memoir to anyone interested in the subject.
You can follow my reviews athttps://reviewsbybarbsaffer.blogspot....
August 15, 2019
Being a fan of Burroughs after reading Running With Scissors, I picked up a copy of this book and was not disappointed. In it he shares how he became a copywriter in advertising, and how his drinking eventually became very out of control. Eventually his work gave him the option of going to rehab or leaving, and he chose rehab for 30 days. The book is written in his usual funny/sarcastic way, and there is much to think upon between the covers here. It gets quite gritty and real in its look into alcoholism, drug use and other hard subjects and I feel it was well written.
First published on my WordPress blog:
https://wordpress.com/post/bookblog20...
First published on my WordPress blog:
https://wordpress.com/post/bookblog20...
October 9, 2019
"Dry." This book I read the next day... couldn't put it down.
The memoir follows Augusten in his success as a mid-20's creative advertiser, which seems like the most appropriate job between Burrough's self-confessed childhood ideal jobs of hairdresser & writer (in "Running w/ Scissors" ).
This one has a different flavor altogether, kind of like the Truffaut series of Antoine Doinel films. Eccentricity reigned supreme with the bunch of freaks in "Running w/ Scissors". "Dry" finds more misfits in Manhattan. Here, the psychology of Burroughs, his emotions raw & visceral, are on brilliant display. With age, it seems, comes a different mentality altogether... here is testament.
This one has a great, bulky climax: after Burroughs undergoes now-famous rehab... will he relapse? The reader cannot stop reading to find out exactly this.
The central question, and all the near mistakes Augusten makes keeps the suspense going. It is trainwreck drama/memoir!
Burroughs is a great writer, my second favorite Burroughs as a matter of fact. He can give relevance to any bizarre or tragic event unlike mere observers, like ourselves. He is not, it seems, just a spectator, nor is he, despite the fact that he is a rich Manhattanite, mega pretentious. Egads!
Both books are so different that you cannot believe that they occurred to the same individual. Because they did & because this fact means that our OWN lives are unexpectedly complex, sometimes truly symbolic and difficult to get through, it is a book to read. Clearly, it gives some bizarre sense of hope while remaining uber-entertaining.
The memoir follows Augusten in his success as a mid-20's creative advertiser, which seems like the most appropriate job between Burrough's self-confessed childhood ideal jobs of hairdresser & writer (in "Running w/ Scissors" ).
This one has a different flavor altogether, kind of like the Truffaut series of Antoine Doinel films. Eccentricity reigned supreme with the bunch of freaks in "Running w/ Scissors". "Dry" finds more misfits in Manhattan. Here, the psychology of Burroughs, his emotions raw & visceral, are on brilliant display. With age, it seems, comes a different mentality altogether... here is testament.
This one has a great, bulky climax: after Burroughs undergoes now-famous rehab... will he relapse? The reader cannot stop reading to find out exactly this.
The central question, and all the near mistakes Augusten makes keeps the suspense going. It is trainwreck drama/memoir!
Burroughs is a great writer, my second favorite Burroughs as a matter of fact. He can give relevance to any bizarre or tragic event unlike mere observers, like ourselves. He is not, it seems, just a spectator, nor is he, despite the fact that he is a rich Manhattanite, mega pretentious. Egads!
Both books are so different that you cannot believe that they occurred to the same individual. Because they did & because this fact means that our OWN lives are unexpectedly complex, sometimes truly symbolic and difficult to get through, it is a book to read. Clearly, it gives some bizarre sense of hope while remaining uber-entertaining.
February 1, 2020
This, my secondAugusten Burroughsread, just left me sosatiated.His writing oozes charisma, surehandedness — despite the fact that this was only his first memoir, written beforeRunning with Scissorsbut published second. And having spent weeks with him now, listening to his genial reading voice on my daily commute, I honestly kind of feel like we're bosom buddies at this point.
Inadvertently, I seem to have embarked on a theme of reading addiction memoirs over the past year or so. This genre compellingly lends itself to a dissection of one's most grisly shortcomings and darkest moments of demoralization, which is a motif I can really get behind. Being the addiction-memoir expert that I've now become, I was actually prepared to downgradeDrya star or two because the beginning really glossed over the horrors of alcohol abuse and withdrawal, and Burroughs' experience of getting sober was just a little too suspiciously pat and enviable for its ease. Thankfully, shit got real by the last third of the book, resulting in an ending that was just sublime and cry-inducing. I hope it really happened just like that.
One of these days I will get back to myrealreading. Listening to audiobooks feels like cheating. For the timebeing, I'm going to be happy to forget why I'm in the car and where I'm going (work) every morning as I listen to the next Augusten Burroughs book.
Inadvertently, I seem to have embarked on a theme of reading addiction memoirs over the past year or so. This genre compellingly lends itself to a dissection of one's most grisly shortcomings and darkest moments of demoralization, which is a motif I can really get behind. Being the addiction-memoir expert that I've now become, I was actually prepared to downgradeDrya star or two because the beginning really glossed over the horrors of alcohol abuse and withdrawal, and Burroughs' experience of getting sober was just a little too suspiciously pat and enviable for its ease. Thankfully, shit got real by the last third of the book, resulting in an ending that was just sublime and cry-inducing. I hope it really happened just like that.
One of these days I will get back to myrealreading. Listening to audiobooks feels like cheating. For the timebeing, I'm going to be happy to forget why I'm in the car and where I'm going (work) every morning as I listen to the next Augusten Burroughs book.
June 17, 2008
Sharp, candid, and surprisingly poignant...
The fact that I finished this book in one dayprobablyindicates that I enjoyed it. Indeed, the only novels that I recall where I truly laughed my head off were from chick-lits, trivial as that may sound. But, really, Burroughs has managed to be disarmingly droll while being frightfully honest and self-deprecating. I can't attest if that's from being gay, the result of coming from a dysfunctional family, or perhaps from working in advertising (in New York, no less).
What made this story interesting for me was the way he narrated his excruciating battle with alcoholism, that even someone who doesn't suffer from that ailment can actually empathize with him. Definitely he refrained from being too long-winded about it, avoiding the pitfall of letting his story become boring or monotonous--his cracks about himself, his fellow addicts, down to the closet case that is his boss, openly drew chuckles from me. There was enough balance of falling into bouts of introspection as well as allowing the story to progress via the lively dialogues with the equally captivating secondary characters--the tragedy that is Pighead, the complexity and apparent exceptionality that is Foster, and the oddity namely Greer, among others. A guilty enjoyment for me as well was the encounter with the German advertising client who unwittingly provokes the imagination of Augusten to spout Nazi stereotypes.
Unexpected, though, was the striking insight into repressed emotions and the ability of a person to love another despite seemingly insurmountable flaws. Augusten's relationships perfectly capture what I think is a quintessentially urban tendency of people nowadays to tirelessly compensate for what they think they are missing in life. In a way, this novel shows how cheerless that condition is, and, at the same time, be unafraid of what is, after all, a price for being human.
Augusten's narration of what his childhood was, the blatant abandonment he experienced from his parents, the perversion done to him as a teenager, makes the reader in turns awed and morbidly fascinated with the man that he has become. There were times our protagonist was readily aware of his shortcomings--from keeping up with the AA meetings to juggling his relationships with Pighead and Foster--and if those weren't uncomfortable enough, the reader is also made cognizant of his glaring denials about how he was living his life, pre- and post-rehab.
I highly recommend this novel. Whether one is seeking an understanding of alcoholism, or simply in want of a refreshing, entertaining read--granted it's peeking into the "memoirs" of a self-confessed mess--this story will take you from laughs to sadness, hope to sorrow. (and back again). Without a doubt, this work proves that Burroughs is an Original.
The fact that I finished this book in one dayprobablyindicates that I enjoyed it. Indeed, the only novels that I recall where I truly laughed my head off were from chick-lits, trivial as that may sound. But, really, Burroughs has managed to be disarmingly droll while being frightfully honest and self-deprecating. I can't attest if that's from being gay, the result of coming from a dysfunctional family, or perhaps from working in advertising (in New York, no less).
What made this story interesting for me was the way he narrated his excruciating battle with alcoholism, that even someone who doesn't suffer from that ailment can actually empathize with him. Definitely he refrained from being too long-winded about it, avoiding the pitfall of letting his story become boring or monotonous--his cracks about himself, his fellow addicts, down to the closet case that is his boss, openly drew chuckles from me. There was enough balance of falling into bouts of introspection as well as allowing the story to progress via the lively dialogues with the equally captivating secondary characters--the tragedy that is Pighead, the complexity and apparent exceptionality that is Foster, and the oddity namely Greer, among others. A guilty enjoyment for me as well was the encounter with the German advertising client who unwittingly provokes the imagination of Augusten to spout Nazi stereotypes.
Unexpected, though, was the striking insight into repressed emotions and the ability of a person to love another despite seemingly insurmountable flaws. Augusten's relationships perfectly capture what I think is a quintessentially urban tendency of people nowadays to tirelessly compensate for what they think they are missing in life. In a way, this novel shows how cheerless that condition is, and, at the same time, be unafraid of what is, after all, a price for being human.
Augusten's narration of what his childhood was, the blatant abandonment he experienced from his parents, the perversion done to him as a teenager, makes the reader in turns awed and morbidly fascinated with the man that he has become. There were times our protagonist was readily aware of his shortcomings--from keeping up with the AA meetings to juggling his relationships with Pighead and Foster--and if those weren't uncomfortable enough, the reader is also made cognizant of his glaring denials about how he was living his life, pre- and post-rehab.
I highly recommend this novel. Whether one is seeking an understanding of alcoholism, or simply in want of a refreshing, entertaining read--granted it's peeking into the "memoirs" of a self-confessed mess--this story will take you from laughs to sadness, hope to sorrow. (and back again). Without a doubt, this work proves that Burroughs is an Original.
January 30, 2012
What do Haruki Murakami (born 1949) and Augusten Burroughs (born 1965) have in common?
Nothing except they both love to drink and they both write stories, novels and memoirs. Everything else about their lives is full of contrasts. Murakami is a Japanese while Burroughs is an American. Murakami interweaves non-human fantasy in his human characters. Burroughs characters are human but they seem to be fantasy. Murakami is straight and very conservative while Burroughs is a flamboyant gay. You know that what you are reading is not true when you read Murakami while when you read the memoirs of Burroughs, you know that they can be true but deceptively true.
But the biggest difference for me is that as you read more and more Murakami books, as you get the same ingredient each time, you’ll get tired of him. Believe me, I’ve read 8 of his works (and have plan of reading the rest but I am taking a rest). My first book of him wasKafka and the Shoreand I liked it so much that I read the two other books right away. He started with 4 stars and this last book, a memoir,What We Talk About When We Talk About Runningonly got 2 stars from me.
On the other hand, it is exactly the opposite with my Burroughs experience. I first read his boyhood memoirRunning With Scissorsand I gave it a 2-star. This was followed byThe Wolf At My Table,about his relationship with his father andYou Better Not Cry(2 stars each). But this one,Dryis not hysterical and very subdued. He is still gay and he goes out and makes out with different men, some of them casually, but it talks about more serious andbelievablematters like serious alcoholism, AIDS and seeminglyfaithful(translation: more than sex escapades) gay love affairs.
My favorite part is when Burroughs was out in a gay bar and he said to himself:this place is full of naked sad lives.This struck me as poetic and honest. Those gay men in a bar seeking for sex (that hopefully turn into love) are sad people. The music could be bouncy. The men could be good-looking with gorgeous body. They could be rowdy. But in the end, when they go home to their apartments, they can be alone and sad. Gay lives, excuse me if this is demeaning, can be lonelier than straight heterosexual lives.
Burroughs has two affairs here. One of them isPigheadwho died of AIDS and the character that made me think that the shrieking gay boy inRunning with Scissorsis actually a sensitive man who could be lovable and respectable. The other lover is the other alcoholicForsterwho is so handsome any gay can go crazy about him. This character brought thehumanaspect of the gayness of Burroughs. While reading, I told myself that the only difference of him being gay to a straight man is that his lover is another man. All the rest are the same.
Memorable characters that brought out the sensitive logical and probablylovableside of Burroughs. The more you read his works, the more you understand who he is. He could be exaggerating at times but that’s what they call as poetic license. But still, I liked this book. First time that I actually liked Burroughs. So, I expect more from his next book in my tbr pile:Magical Thinking.
Unlike Murakami’s books that you get tired of his style as you read his works one after the other.
Nothing except they both love to drink and they both write stories, novels and memoirs. Everything else about their lives is full of contrasts. Murakami is a Japanese while Burroughs is an American. Murakami interweaves non-human fantasy in his human characters. Burroughs characters are human but they seem to be fantasy. Murakami is straight and very conservative while Burroughs is a flamboyant gay. You know that what you are reading is not true when you read Murakami while when you read the memoirs of Burroughs, you know that they can be true but deceptively true.
But the biggest difference for me is that as you read more and more Murakami books, as you get the same ingredient each time, you’ll get tired of him. Believe me, I’ve read 8 of his works (and have plan of reading the rest but I am taking a rest). My first book of him wasKafka and the Shoreand I liked it so much that I read the two other books right away. He started with 4 stars and this last book, a memoir,What We Talk About When We Talk About Runningonly got 2 stars from me.
On the other hand, it is exactly the opposite with my Burroughs experience. I first read his boyhood memoirRunning With Scissorsand I gave it a 2-star. This was followed byThe Wolf At My Table,about his relationship with his father andYou Better Not Cry(2 stars each). But this one,Dryis not hysterical and very subdued. He is still gay and he goes out and makes out with different men, some of them casually, but it talks about more serious andbelievablematters like serious alcoholism, AIDS and seeminglyfaithful(translation: more than sex escapades) gay love affairs.
My favorite part is when Burroughs was out in a gay bar and he said to himself:this place is full of naked sad lives.This struck me as poetic and honest. Those gay men in a bar seeking for sex (that hopefully turn into love) are sad people. The music could be bouncy. The men could be good-looking with gorgeous body. They could be rowdy. But in the end, when they go home to their apartments, they can be alone and sad. Gay lives, excuse me if this is demeaning, can be lonelier than straight heterosexual lives.
Burroughs has two affairs here. One of them isPigheadwho died of AIDS and the character that made me think that the shrieking gay boy inRunning with Scissorsis actually a sensitive man who could be lovable and respectable. The other lover is the other alcoholicForsterwho is so handsome any gay can go crazy about him. This character brought thehumanaspect of the gayness of Burroughs. While reading, I told myself that the only difference of him being gay to a straight man is that his lover is another man. All the rest are the same.
Memorable characters that brought out the sensitive logical and probablylovableside of Burroughs. The more you read his works, the more you understand who he is. He could be exaggerating at times but that’s what they call as poetic license. But still, I liked this book. First time that I actually liked Burroughs. So, I expect more from his next book in my tbr pile:Magical Thinking.
Unlike Murakami’s books that you get tired of his style as you read his works one after the other.
August 3, 2016
LOVED IT!
March 29, 2016
This book is funny. It's funny and it's true and it's real.
I laugh and crack up about what Burroughs is saying, even though he is a mean funny. I say "a mean funny" because he really rips into other people and judges them. Of course, he does the same thing to himself, but I can't help feeling a little guilty about enjoying this book so much. Sometimes he'll be saying something and I'll be laughing and then I'll think, "Should I really be laughing at this?"
Believe me, it's nothing too offensive or disgusting, or I would put the book down. But it is something I notice. Burroughs will always be, for me, the man who I love reading his funny observations but who I'd never want to be friends with in real life.
Burroughs is shallow and vain and foul-mouthed. But he knows that about himself. And because he knows that about himself, he can write very funny books about it.
This book is about Burroughs being a drunk, and his long path to sobriety. It was touching, hilarious, painful and real. I enjoyed following Burroughs on his journey from being forced into rehab, to AA, to flirting with other addicts. Will he get sober? Will he relapse? I was genuinely worried about him at some points, yelling at my book "Don't do it, Augusten!" But of course he can't hear me and he's already made the decision, anyway. And written about it for my amusement and reading pleasure.
I like how at first, Burroughs thinks he's too cool for school. This rehab is lame! I won't go to AA because it is so dweeby! But slowly he starts to realize how much he needs help (a new, hot guy at AA doesn't hurt, either).
The subplot is him watching his good friend and ex-lover die of AIDS. This is very sad and poignant, even with Burroughs's joking and quips.
Burroughs really lets you get into his head - his mixed feelings about the men in his life, his horrific memories of his abusive past, and his need - his love - for alcohol. This book, while humorous, also takes the reader to the very pits of addiction, and brings the filth of having an addiction squatting in your brain into the light. It's not pretty, but it's necessary and eye-opening.
A very deep and funny portrait of a recovering addict.
P.S. He does reference the pedophilia he experienced as a kid growing up. If this bothers you, either don't read the book or skip every section that's in italics.
P.P.S. If you are an addict of any kind and you do not feel like you have a good grip on your sobriety yet, I am warning you that this book can be triggering. Very triggering. So best save it for your one-year-sober anniversary and not the white-knuckling part.
I laugh and crack up about what Burroughs is saying, even though he is a mean funny. I say "a mean funny" because he really rips into other people and judges them. Of course, he does the same thing to himself, but I can't help feeling a little guilty about enjoying this book so much. Sometimes he'll be saying something and I'll be laughing and then I'll think, "Should I really be laughing at this?"
Believe me, it's nothing too offensive or disgusting, or I would put the book down. But it is something I notice. Burroughs will always be, for me, the man who I love reading his funny observations but who I'd never want to be friends with in real life.
Burroughs is shallow and vain and foul-mouthed. But he knows that about himself. And because he knows that about himself, he can write very funny books about it.
This book is about Burroughs being a drunk, and his long path to sobriety. It was touching, hilarious, painful and real. I enjoyed following Burroughs on his journey from being forced into rehab, to AA, to flirting with other addicts. Will he get sober? Will he relapse? I was genuinely worried about him at some points, yelling at my book "Don't do it, Augusten!" But of course he can't hear me and he's already made the decision, anyway. And written about it for my amusement and reading pleasure.
I like how at first, Burroughs thinks he's too cool for school. This rehab is lame! I won't go to AA because it is so dweeby! But slowly he starts to realize how much he needs help (a new, hot guy at AA doesn't hurt, either).
The subplot is him watching his good friend and ex-lover die of AIDS. This is very sad and poignant, even with Burroughs's joking and quips.
Burroughs really lets you get into his head - his mixed feelings about the men in his life, his horrific memories of his abusive past, and his need - his love - for alcohol. This book, while humorous, also takes the reader to the very pits of addiction, and brings the filth of having an addiction squatting in your brain into the light. It's not pretty, but it's necessary and eye-opening.
A very deep and funny portrait of a recovering addict.
P.S. He does reference the pedophilia he experienced as a kid growing up. If this bothers you, either don't read the book or skip every section that's in italics.
P.P.S. If you are an addict of any kind and you do not feel like you have a good grip on your sobriety yet, I am warning you that this book can be triggering. Very triggering. So best save it for your one-year-sober anniversary and not the white-knuckling part.
October 8, 2007
I got to be Augusten Burrough's escort when he spoke at the Texas Book Festival a few years ago, and he was very soft spoken, low key and ordinary looking. He spoke to a very large, adoring crowd in the senate chambers, and then signed books for quite a long time to an equally adoring snaking line of fans. He was very sweet and humble. He also bolted out of there as quickly as he could, and asked to be taken directly to his hotel, although my friend Kelly and I managed to drive him around Austin a little showing him things. He's sober now, bummer, so we couldn't take him out and get him drunk.
He game me his badge to sell on ebay but I think I stuck it in a box somewhere.
Anyway, this book is amazing, it's almost too confessional; you feel like you can practically feel his pain as he hits rock bottom and tries to claw his way out of addiction. Not nearly as funny as Running with Scissors, but it shouldn't because it's him as an adult, realizing the pain and abuse of his childhood, and the excruciating results of his bad choices and bad behavior. It's an extraordinarily compelling book. I gave it too a young, gay friend of mine who had never heard of him, amazingly enough, and he walked into work after finishing it, just speechless with emotion. It's almost too much, and you can understand why his fans feel like they really know him after reading it.
Intense is all I can say.
He game me his badge to sell on ebay but I think I stuck it in a box somewhere.
Anyway, this book is amazing, it's almost too confessional; you feel like you can practically feel his pain as he hits rock bottom and tries to claw his way out of addiction. Not nearly as funny as Running with Scissors, but it shouldn't because it's him as an adult, realizing the pain and abuse of his childhood, and the excruciating results of his bad choices and bad behavior. It's an extraordinarily compelling book. I gave it too a young, gay friend of mine who had never heard of him, amazingly enough, and he walked into work after finishing it, just speechless with emotion. It's almost too much, and you can understand why his fans feel like they really know him after reading it.
Intense is all I can say.
August 23, 2012
What more can be said about Augusten Burroughs? He is an amusing mess!
If half of the information in his memoirs is true, I will give him five stars for his survival skills. If his memoirs are later discovered to be false,I will give him five stars for creativity and fantastic story telling.I can't put this book down.
I haven't read their books, but it seems that his mother and brother are capitalizing on family dysfunction as well. They all make me feel extremely boring and sane.
If half of the information in his memoirs is true, I will give him five stars for his survival skills. If his memoirs are later discovered to be false,I will give him five stars for creativity and fantastic story telling.I can't put this book down.
I haven't read their books, but it seems that his mother and brother are capitalizing on family dysfunction as well. They all make me feel extremely boring and sane.
September 3, 2008
By far my favorite Burroughs' novel. This one isn't for the weak of heart, its not the same light feel as some of his other books. This book digs deep and leaves you feeling his hopelessness. Dry is all at once inspirational, depressing, exciting, and frustrating. Immediately after reading his honest and darkly beautiful memoir it immediately made it on my favorite books list.
Burrough's has become a favorite of mine for his seemingly effortless managment of language. He is honest, funny and accessible. The kind of guy you want so desperately to have programed into your cell phone.
Burrough's has become a favorite of mine for his seemingly effortless managment of language. He is honest, funny and accessible. The kind of guy you want so desperately to have programed into your cell phone.
July 10, 2017
"The fact is I'm not like other people, I'm like other alcoholics."
This was an audio reread of a book I read in print in 2008. This has long been one of my favorite memoirs and will remain so.
Augusten is a decent narrator except, when speaking as Foster, he sounds more like Forrest Gump than just a guy with a southern accent. Being from the south myself, that threw me off a little.
This was an audio reread of a book I read in print in 2008. This has long been one of my favorite memoirs and will remain so.
Augusten is a decent narrator except, when speaking as Foster, he sounds more like Forrest Gump than just a guy with a southern accent. Being from the south myself, that threw me off a little.
April 29, 2016
Continuing the memoir trilogy, Augusten Burroughs takes the reader through his struggles with addiction as a young man. Living in New York City, Burroughs is busy with an advertising firm, making six-figures, and having little to rein him in. He recounts how his drinking got in the way of his job, where he would turn up randomly reeking of alcohol. After embarrassing himself and the firm on numerous occasions, Burroughs is offered a choice; go into rehabilitation or lose the job. Struggling to come to terms with his drinking, Burroughs choose rehab, though stands firm that he does not need it. He departs for a facility in Minnesota, where he encounters a number of other addicts as various points in their sobriety journey. In the early stages, Burroughs feels that he can overcome his drinking by choice, the "if I want it, I will do it" attitude. He pushes back against the services offered and program presented, finding them silly and somewhat overbearing. However, he has an epiphany while in treatment and as his thirty days come to an end, he develops a new-found respect for sobriety and its fragility. The true test transpires when he's released, sent back to New York City armed with a small dose of program and the requirement to attend an outpatient facility for six months. Though not mandatory, Alcoholics Anonymous is also recommended, a lifelong support that could only help him stabilise in the outside world. As the memoir continues, Burroughs explores life back in New York, a special someone he meets in his outpatient group, and a lingering connection from his rehab days that tries not only to vie for his attention, but to keep him from falling off the deep end. Highly humerous throughout with strong passages of heartfelt angst, Burroughs serves up a stellar second volume to his memoirs as he forces the reader to think and feel in ways they may not have thought possible.
With a better understanding of both his writing style and approach to the memoir mechanism, Burroughs' second instalment had me captivated from the outset. His use of concrete examples in the narrative combined with flashbacks offers the reader a wonderful combination of fresh material and poignant events that shape the man he became. Burroughs presents a close to seamless story of his struggles and the depths to which he sunk before pulling himself out, only to come crashing back to earth in a moment of weakness. He does offer extensive thanks to those who played a role in his recovery, but does not let the battle facing him go without crediting his own willpower. That he slipped up in numerous ways is not lost on the attentive reader, but this goes more to present Burroughs as a fallible man, rather than portraying an individual who can rise above the fray. Shocking in its honesty and clear in the pathway on which this journey developed, Burroughs provides the reader with insight and hope for a man who came close to losing it all.
Again, a special thank you to Rae Eddy, who recommended the Augusten Burroughs memoirs. She has been a great help as I realise my need to deal with some of the blurry portions of my past to develop stronger and more solid bonds to the present, as I peer into what the future has in store.
Kudos, Mr. Burroughs for this wonderfully raw piece of work. I am curious to see how you tie things off in the final volume of this entertaining memoir.
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With a better understanding of both his writing style and approach to the memoir mechanism, Burroughs' second instalment had me captivated from the outset. His use of concrete examples in the narrative combined with flashbacks offers the reader a wonderful combination of fresh material and poignant events that shape the man he became. Burroughs presents a close to seamless story of his struggles and the depths to which he sunk before pulling himself out, only to come crashing back to earth in a moment of weakness. He does offer extensive thanks to those who played a role in his recovery, but does not let the battle facing him go without crediting his own willpower. That he slipped up in numerous ways is not lost on the attentive reader, but this goes more to present Burroughs as a fallible man, rather than portraying an individual who can rise above the fray. Shocking in its honesty and clear in the pathway on which this journey developed, Burroughs provides the reader with insight and hope for a man who came close to losing it all.
Again, a special thank you to Rae Eddy, who recommended the Augusten Burroughs memoirs. She has been a great help as I realise my need to deal with some of the blurry portions of my past to develop stronger and more solid bonds to the present, as I peer into what the future has in store.
Kudos, Mr. Burroughs for this wonderfully raw piece of work. I am curious to see how you tie things off in the final volume of this entertaining memoir.
Like/hate the review? An ever-growing collection of others appears at:
http://pecheyponderings.wordpress.com/
December 4, 2023
Should’ve saved this one ‘til January, huh????
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I snatched this selection by Burroughs when I wasn’t exactly sure what I wanted to walk to next during my lunch hour/on the weekends. I’ve had much success with his work before, but I have never listened to him. This wasn’t my fave, but it held my attention and that’s pretty much the only thing that I need for an audiobook to be a winner right now. And I listened to it in November, so yay me I'm smart and read nonfiction; )
(I will say he’s atrocious at accents, so in spite of this being some bleak subject matter anytime he tried to be British or Southern my first inclination was to laugh – which just reaffirms I’m a heartless monster.)
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I snatched this selection by Burroughs when I wasn’t exactly sure what I wanted to walk to next during my lunch hour/on the weekends. I’ve had much success with his work before, but I have never listened to him. This wasn’t my fave, but it held my attention and that’s pretty much the only thing that I need for an audiobook to be a winner right now. And I listened to it in November, so yay me I'm smart and read nonfiction; )
(I will say he’s atrocious at accents, so in spite of this being some bleak subject matter anytime he tried to be British or Southern my first inclination was to laugh – which just reaffirms I’m a heartless monster.)
August 8, 2007
"You were spectacular," Hayden tells me afterwards.
"How so?"
"You were so honest and substantive. Just no bullshit," he says, slapping me on the back.
"Really? I seemed normal?" I ask.
"Of course. You were great."
"What a relief. I had no idea what I was saying. I was actually thinking about how my chest hair is growing back after having shaved it all off."
Hayden turns sharply, "What?"
"Well, I thought maybe of bleaching it for the summer. But then I thought how awful it would be to have roots. Chest hair roots. That would be really humiliating. The blond chest hair might look good and natural like I go to the Hamptons on the weekends. but as soon as the roots started to appear, it would be like, 'Oh, that's very sad, he's obviously looking for something and just not finding it.'"
Hayden stares at me with mock horror. Or maybe it's real horror. "You absolutely terrify me. The depth of your shallowness is staggering."
Really, it [the shallowness] was staggering at times. But at least Burroughs wrote about it in an honest, hilarious way. A very fun, open, quick read. Sad too. I liked this more than Running with Scissors.
"How so?"
"You were so honest and substantive. Just no bullshit," he says, slapping me on the back.
"Really? I seemed normal?" I ask.
"Of course. You were great."
"What a relief. I had no idea what I was saying. I was actually thinking about how my chest hair is growing back after having shaved it all off."
Hayden turns sharply, "What?"
"Well, I thought maybe of bleaching it for the summer. But then I thought how awful it would be to have roots. Chest hair roots. That would be really humiliating. The blond chest hair might look good and natural like I go to the Hamptons on the weekends. but as soon as the roots started to appear, it would be like, 'Oh, that's very sad, he's obviously looking for something and just not finding it.'"
Hayden stares at me with mock horror. Or maybe it's real horror. "You absolutely terrify me. The depth of your shallowness is staggering."
Really, it [the shallowness] was staggering at times. But at least Burroughs wrote about it in an honest, hilarious way. A very fun, open, quick read. Sad too. I liked this more than Running with Scissors.
April 5, 2019
La historia de un alcohólico que recae en sus intentos de dejar la bebida, tenia pinta de trágica y aburrida. Los buenos comentarios sobre el libro me hicieron ignorar esa impresión y el resultado fue una lectura amena. El drama toma otro matiz de la mano de Augusten, con un humor a veces negro y siempre brillante, nos relata el proceso: la difícil tarea de reconocerse alcohólico, con sus múltiples justificaciones e intentos de minimizar la situación; el descubrimiento gradual de que la bebida no es realmente el problema, cual punta de iceberg, es solo lo visible que esconde el caos; y las cursilerías, insoportables pero necesarias, que abundan en los grupos de Alcohólicos anónimos; todo agravado por el frívolo mundo de la publicidad. El tratarse de memorias lo hace más interesante, sabemos que nos habla desde lo testimonial y no desde la mera ficción. Adentrase en las vivencias y reflexiones de un alcohólico resulta fascinante, de hecho, debería ser lectura obligada para toda persona que necesite superar adicciones.
June 4, 2013
Okay, I didn't finish this one. I got about halfway through and had to put it down because I reached my maximum amount of frustrated sighs per book (20).
I have several problems with this book. First of all, it says on the cover that it is a memoir, but Burroughs takes way too much license with dialogue and description. Although he states several times that he has always kept a journal, many of the details either have to be or better be made up. Here's an example of a detail he recalled that I really hope he made up: "When I stand up, I bring my hand around to touch my back where it had been in contact with the tub and my back is cold, like a dead person." That sentence is clunky, no doubt, but the real problem is: who in the hell remembers, twenty years after the event, feeling his back and thinking it felt cold "like a dead person" (by the way, you mean corpse, right?). Or, if we take into account that he kept a journal, why would he write this observation down? This completely unnecessary made-up detail is unoriginal at best and cloying sentimentality at worst.
Second of all, and the cause of most of my frustrated sighs, is Burroughs' excessive use of over-the-top metaphors, similes in particular. It was getting to the point where there would be at least one bad metaphor per page. And believe me, I love a good, well-thought out metaphor, as it can add insight and universality to writing. These metaphors, though, seem to serve no purpose than either to shock the reader or to prove how hilarious and cool Burroughs is. Here are some god-awful similes:
- "When I say 'rehab' I raise my chin, as though talking about the Oscars." [Maybe I have to be a gay man to get what this is supposed to look like?]
- "Like stopping into Baby Gap before having an abortion." [Ooo how scandalous!]
- "Paul concentrates, hard. He looks as if he can't decide between a vodka tonic or a screwdriver." [That kind of decision does take quite a bit of hard concentration...]
- (he is imagining what AA meetings are like) "Maybe there's even a secret handshake, like the Mormons who also don't drink." [What the hell is he talking about?]
- "So when you combine alcohol with a slob, you just end up with something that would appall an self-respecting heroin-addicted vagrant." [Wow, with one sloppy metaphor, Burroughs managed to elevate himself to be much superior to heroin-addicted vagrants and equate himself to the poor guys.]
- "In the shower I think about how I'm a drunk that doesn't get to drink. It seems unfair. Like keeping a Chihuahua in a hamster cage." [That makes NO sense at all.]
The third major flaw with this book is found on page 104: Burroughs has just arrived at his very first AA meeting, and the first thing the chairman of the meeting says is, "What you see here, what you hear here, stays here." Burroughs then spends the next four pages relating one woman's personal account of her struggle with alcoholism and her recovery. So here is the dilemma: either Burroughs is breaking that sacred rule or he is making up everything that happens in rehab and AA meetings. Undoubtedly he changes names, but I still think that is unfair to the other people in rehab and AA members who are only sharing their very personal stories because they know it is verboten to, say, publish these stories in a book. If he is making up these people and their stories, then perhaps he should call this book a fictionalized memoir.
A minor detail: when Burroughs checks into rehab, he is placed in the detox room. And yet we have absolutely zip description of what it felt like to go through withdrawal. In fact, the lack of physical description (as in, what Burroughs feels physiologically) makes me question the truth of Burroughs' account. Why doesn't he even mention what it felt like when he initially stopped drinking in rehab? If he didn't feel anything, which I would find difficult to believe as he claimed to drink a liter of Dewars nightly AND was allergic to alcohol, then wouldn't it be worth mentioning that he miraculously had no physical withdrawal symptoms?
I gave this book two stars instead of one for this reason: I think that Burroughs' goal in writing this memoir (and likely his other memoirs, though I have not read them nor do I have any intention of reading them now) is to yank an emotional reaction from his audience. If that is indeed his goal, then he has succeeded with me. I'm not sure Burroughs cares at all that my reaction is that I want nothing to do with him or his book(s).
I have several problems with this book. First of all, it says on the cover that it is a memoir, but Burroughs takes way too much license with dialogue and description. Although he states several times that he has always kept a journal, many of the details either have to be or better be made up. Here's an example of a detail he recalled that I really hope he made up: "When I stand up, I bring my hand around to touch my back where it had been in contact with the tub and my back is cold, like a dead person." That sentence is clunky, no doubt, but the real problem is: who in the hell remembers, twenty years after the event, feeling his back and thinking it felt cold "like a dead person" (by the way, you mean corpse, right?). Or, if we take into account that he kept a journal, why would he write this observation down? This completely unnecessary made-up detail is unoriginal at best and cloying sentimentality at worst.
Second of all, and the cause of most of my frustrated sighs, is Burroughs' excessive use of over-the-top metaphors, similes in particular. It was getting to the point where there would be at least one bad metaphor per page. And believe me, I love a good, well-thought out metaphor, as it can add insight and universality to writing. These metaphors, though, seem to serve no purpose than either to shock the reader or to prove how hilarious and cool Burroughs is. Here are some god-awful similes:
- "When I say 'rehab' I raise my chin, as though talking about the Oscars." [Maybe I have to be a gay man to get what this is supposed to look like?]
- "Like stopping into Baby Gap before having an abortion." [Ooo how scandalous!]
- "Paul concentrates, hard. He looks as if he can't decide between a vodka tonic or a screwdriver." [That kind of decision does take quite a bit of hard concentration...]
- (he is imagining what AA meetings are like) "Maybe there's even a secret handshake, like the Mormons who also don't drink." [What the hell is he talking about?]
- "So when you combine alcohol with a slob, you just end up with something that would appall an self-respecting heroin-addicted vagrant." [Wow, with one sloppy metaphor, Burroughs managed to elevate himself to be much superior to heroin-addicted vagrants and equate himself to the poor guys.]
- "In the shower I think about how I'm a drunk that doesn't get to drink. It seems unfair. Like keeping a Chihuahua in a hamster cage." [That makes NO sense at all.]
The third major flaw with this book is found on page 104: Burroughs has just arrived at his very first AA meeting, and the first thing the chairman of the meeting says is, "What you see here, what you hear here, stays here." Burroughs then spends the next four pages relating one woman's personal account of her struggle with alcoholism and her recovery. So here is the dilemma: either Burroughs is breaking that sacred rule or he is making up everything that happens in rehab and AA meetings. Undoubtedly he changes names, but I still think that is unfair to the other people in rehab and AA members who are only sharing their very personal stories because they know it is verboten to, say, publish these stories in a book. If he is making up these people and their stories, then perhaps he should call this book a fictionalized memoir.
A minor detail: when Burroughs checks into rehab, he is placed in the detox room. And yet we have absolutely zip description of what it felt like to go through withdrawal. In fact, the lack of physical description (as in, what Burroughs feels physiologically) makes me question the truth of Burroughs' account. Why doesn't he even mention what it felt like when he initially stopped drinking in rehab? If he didn't feel anything, which I would find difficult to believe as he claimed to drink a liter of Dewars nightly AND was allergic to alcohol, then wouldn't it be worth mentioning that he miraculously had no physical withdrawal symptoms?
I gave this book two stars instead of one for this reason: I think that Burroughs' goal in writing this memoir (and likely his other memoirs, though I have not read them nor do I have any intention of reading them now) is to yank an emotional reaction from his audience. If that is indeed his goal, then he has succeeded with me. I'm not sure Burroughs cares at all that my reaction is that I want nothing to do with him or his book(s).
March 12, 2008
(Mid March).....Dear Book Cover,
I love you and I'm sorry it had to end this way. Remember when we first met? Remember how I tried to overlook you again and again but finally I broke down and pulled you off the shelf and you asked me to touch you, so I did. I spread my fingers and placed my palm flat across you. And then remember how I used my fingers to push up the palm and drug just my finger tips from the top to the bottom? and of course, the inevitable - the quick pull to the cheeck. The glances from side to side to make sure no one in the bookstore was looking and then, the eyes-closed-full-taking-in of your smooth matteness. Those were good times, I wont deny it - but it's over now.
Dear inside of book,
lets not kid ourselves, it was only a physical attraction and in the end that is never enough.
*I found my brothers real life drug rehab stories to be more compelling (sarah, remember the kid that tried to prove his "recovery" by barking like a dog?)
*the was OK, whatever but I kept getting irritated with Burroughs for over explaining things. i.e. "He's a sex addict, I remember. And suddently, he ceases being a person and takes on the appearance of an anonymous roadside restroom stall." here enters one of the many overstatements that irritated the hell out of me, "The kind used by passing truckers for quick sex with people like Kavi."
Well no shit? was Burroughs afraid if he didnt' tell us what "kind" of stall it was, we might think it was a goat stall (the kind used to house goats)?
After three "no shits"! in a 2 page span - I gave up on the book.
(beginning March).... cool. i wanna be an alcoholic too!
I love you and I'm sorry it had to end this way. Remember when we first met? Remember how I tried to overlook you again and again but finally I broke down and pulled you off the shelf and you asked me to touch you, so I did. I spread my fingers and placed my palm flat across you. And then remember how I used my fingers to push up the palm and drug just my finger tips from the top to the bottom? and of course, the inevitable - the quick pull to the cheeck. The glances from side to side to make sure no one in the bookstore was looking and then, the eyes-closed-full-taking-in of your smooth matteness. Those were good times, I wont deny it - but it's over now.
Dear inside of book,
lets not kid ourselves, it was only a physical attraction and in the end that is never enough.
*I found my brothers real life drug rehab stories to be more compelling (sarah, remember the kid that tried to prove his "recovery" by barking like a dog?)
*the was OK, whatever but I kept getting irritated with Burroughs for over explaining things. i.e. "He's a sex addict, I remember. And suddently, he ceases being a person and takes on the appearance of an anonymous roadside restroom stall." here enters one of the many overstatements that irritated the hell out of me, "The kind used by passing truckers for quick sex with people like Kavi."
Well no shit? was Burroughs afraid if he didnt' tell us what "kind" of stall it was, we might think it was a goat stall (the kind used to house goats)?
After three "no shits"! in a 2 page span - I gave up on the book.
(beginning March).... cool. i wanna be an alcoholic too!
June 17, 2021
“I'm lonely. And I'm lonely in some horribly deep way and for a flash of an instant, I can see just how lonely, and how deep this feeling runs. And it scares the shit out of me to be this lonely because it seems catastrophic.”
Wow, I loved this book. Intense, and beautifully written. I was completely caught up in Augusten’s character arc (can we call it that in a memoir?). His internal dialogue throughout this story is profound - and at some points hidden behind humor. I both laughed and cried - Would absolutely recommend.
Wow, I loved this book. Intense, and beautifully written. I was completely caught up in Augusten’s character arc (can we call it that in a memoir?). His internal dialogue throughout this story is profound - and at some points hidden behind humor. I both laughed and cried - Would absolutely recommend.
January 23, 2011
Running with Scissorstakes a group of messed-up characters and portrays them (mostly) for laughs.Drytakes a group of messed-up characters and shows us how tragic they are. It's deadly serious this time.
Most moving is the way Augusten portrays himself. He's merciless in showing us what he's become, the walls he's put up, the denial he's in. Tough to read and easy to read all at once. Fundamental truths, and possibly his crowning achievement.
Most moving is the way Augusten portrays himself. He's merciless in showing us what he's become, the walls he's put up, the denial he's in. Tough to read and easy to read all at once. Fundamental truths, and possibly his crowning achievement.
July 25, 2007
THE break-up book. While it may seem that Burroughs's story about his struggle with addiction and sobriety would have little to do with the average twenty-something's experience muddling through a break up, I have found no better book to read in the wake of a disasterous relationship.
For example, once he's sober and out of rehab, Burroughs begins counting days. (He keeps track of how many days he goes without dringking, and must to keep counting until he hits the 90-day mark, after which the coutning becomes optional.) This is a great method to use following a break up. For each day you do not have contact (of any kind!) with the object of your heartahce, you get to count a day. Keep couting until you hit 90. (those first 90 are the hardest.)
Not to mention, it makes you feel better to know that his life during this period is way worse than anything that you're going through. Gives you a little perspective.
For example, once he's sober and out of rehab, Burroughs begins counting days. (He keeps track of how many days he goes without dringking, and must to keep counting until he hits the 90-day mark, after which the coutning becomes optional.) This is a great method to use following a break up. For each day you do not have contact (of any kind!) with the object of your heartahce, you get to count a day. Keep couting until you hit 90. (those first 90 are the hardest.)
Not to mention, it makes you feel better to know that his life during this period is way worse than anything that you're going through. Gives you a little perspective.
October 23, 2018
I was immediately smitten with Augusten's playfully sardonic story telling.
Even when he is being a horrible person, in thought or deed, I am still charmed by his wry self awareness.
His roller coaster of emotional reactions to recovery was captivating to me. The supporting cast of his life is well drawn. Augusten's talent as an ad man serves him quite well as an author.
I doubt I would have picked this up if not for book club. Another win for compulsory reading assignments!
Even when he is being a horrible person, in thought or deed, I am still charmed by his wry self awareness.
His roller coaster of emotional reactions to recovery was captivating to me. The supporting cast of his life is well drawn. Augusten's talent as an ad man serves him quite well as an author.
I doubt I would have picked this up if not for book club. Another win for compulsory reading assignments!
November 15, 2012
This is the second memoir by Augusten Burroughs, which details his life in his 20s, living in New York City, working as an advertising executive, making tons of money, and slowly killing himself each day by drinking more than seems humanly possible. After years of alcoholism, Augusten checks himself into an in-patient rehab center and begins a life he's never really known...sober.
This man is a great writer! His detailed descriptions of people, places and feelings are so well-written. I was entranced by his story immediately. This was a much easier read for me compared to "Running with Scissors." They were both well-written but this one, at least, was about him as an adult making his own decisions. The most profound part of the book, for me, was the description of Pighead on his deathbed, as it was so painfully similar to my brother's death. The description of his illness was as if I was reading my own journal during the time of Jim's illness. I feel as if I know Auguesten and I truly wish him a wonderful life.
Grade: A
This man is a great writer! His detailed descriptions of people, places and feelings are so well-written. I was entranced by his story immediately. This was a much easier read for me compared to "Running with Scissors." They were both well-written but this one, at least, was about him as an adult making his own decisions. The most profound part of the book, for me, was the description of Pighead on his deathbed, as it was so painfully similar to my brother's death. The description of his illness was as if I was reading my own journal during the time of Jim's illness. I feel as if I know Auguesten and I truly wish him a wonderful life.
Grade: A
August 8, 2009
Why are we all so obsessed with the alcoholic memoir? I read this quick read for book group in under three hours - which was about all the time it deserved. The literary tradition of great intoxicated writers may fascinate those who never studied Beatnik literature or Hemingway in school. But to satisfy the niche of urban hipster- intellectuals who are looking for a step above Lindsay Lohan's faux-glam adventures in US Weekly, this book was just an edited down version of James Frey's A Million Little Pieces, which I read on spring break at Canyon Ranch while detoxing from my own underage escapades.
Although Frey was too audacious (and unethical, according to Oprah in 2006 and the recent issue of Vanity Fair...I cannot believe we're still talking about it) in his attempts to be a great memoirist through booz and bold moves, we all know that truth really can be stranger than fiction(whether 100% real or partially embellished); and those who live to tell about it in a well-crafted way deserve credit. The one rule of good writing I learned in school, however, is: keep talk about digestion, bodily fluids, or any other vulgarities people don't want to read about to a minimum. This is drugstore prose.
If we reduce Burrough's memoir to the level of a "quickie" that's as cheaply satisfying as a Danielle Steel novel, then his account of addiction, if well-documented, should read with as much vim and vigor as if we were chain-smoking it. But it doesn't. Subtract all the bloated summary of ingesting, vomiting, or verbal headache, and all we get is flat character development, flat dialogue, and a brief account of rehab/institutionalization that does not even begin to compare with the world described to us in "Girl, Interruped" or "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest."
This book's literary mediocrity is as cut and dry as a glass of Two Buck Chuck marked up to $14 - which is what I paid for this paperback.
The only part of the memoir that was interesting was the advertising part. How on earth did he survive a meeting with clients at the Met while openly intoxicated? Overcome the real challenge of returning from rehab to a boss who sent him away and then expects him to gush full creative brilliance on a German beer account, when alcohol had seemingly been the tour-de-force behind his sarcastic excess in the first place? Perhaps he blames corporate BS as the cause of his deterioration...but it's probably his messed up parenting - which is clearly the more interesting part of his troubled life, as documented in Running With Scissors. ( "Interesting" because it was made into a movie - if we're talking commercial success.)
In the conclusion of Dry, his relationships fizzle, his significant other dies, and we are left with grotesque images of crack-cocaine and death that made me question why I was even bothering to finish this sophomoric and soporific "been there" "done that" Truth or Dare sharing. I felt like I'd forced myself to finish something that was all suds with little sustenance. Or stayed up for a party that was totally not worth it.
Although Frey was too audacious (and unethical, according to Oprah in 2006 and the recent issue of Vanity Fair...I cannot believe we're still talking about it) in his attempts to be a great memoirist through booz and bold moves, we all know that truth really can be stranger than fiction(whether 100% real or partially embellished); and those who live to tell about it in a well-crafted way deserve credit. The one rule of good writing I learned in school, however, is: keep talk about digestion, bodily fluids, or any other vulgarities people don't want to read about to a minimum. This is drugstore prose.
If we reduce Burrough's memoir to the level of a "quickie" that's as cheaply satisfying as a Danielle Steel novel, then his account of addiction, if well-documented, should read with as much vim and vigor as if we were chain-smoking it. But it doesn't. Subtract all the bloated summary of ingesting, vomiting, or verbal headache, and all we get is flat character development, flat dialogue, and a brief account of rehab/institutionalization that does not even begin to compare with the world described to us in "Girl, Interruped" or "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest."
This book's literary mediocrity is as cut and dry as a glass of Two Buck Chuck marked up to $14 - which is what I paid for this paperback.
The only part of the memoir that was interesting was the advertising part. How on earth did he survive a meeting with clients at the Met while openly intoxicated? Overcome the real challenge of returning from rehab to a boss who sent him away and then expects him to gush full creative brilliance on a German beer account, when alcohol had seemingly been the tour-de-force behind his sarcastic excess in the first place? Perhaps he blames corporate BS as the cause of his deterioration...but it's probably his messed up parenting - which is clearly the more interesting part of his troubled life, as documented in Running With Scissors. ( "Interesting" because it was made into a movie - if we're talking commercial success.)
In the conclusion of Dry, his relationships fizzle, his significant other dies, and we are left with grotesque images of crack-cocaine and death that made me question why I was even bothering to finish this sophomoric and soporific "been there" "done that" Truth or Dare sharing. I felt like I'd forced myself to finish something that was all suds with little sustenance. Or stayed up for a party that was totally not worth it.
November 21, 2015
Thank goodness the author acknowledged the criminal behavior of those who were supposed to be responsible adults, but who placed him in situations that no child or even young adult should have faced. In other words, he doesn't simply laugh off his unorthodox upbringing, he acknowledges the fact that the responsible adults got it wrong. Still, he doesn't wallow in it, and regardless of the back story, this is a tale of addiction, recovery and lots of what happens in between. Dry takes a slightly novel approach in that it doesn't spent lots of time in the spiral into the abyss. Instead you spend lots of time in the recovery process. For those who have experienced this process, early success is an ominous sign, and this is no exception. This was a funny, real, and an authentic story.
August 13, 2015
Review to come.
September 25, 2014
This is a difficult, but worthwhile read. I admired the author's ability to share so openly about his addiction. Most of the time I didn't like him, yet I couldn't put the book down.
March 26, 2016
3.5 stars - It was really good.
Great insight into the mind of an addict and the writing has me wanting to pick up his other memoirs; really enjoy his narrative style. Not recommended however for those with delicate sensibilities.
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Favorite Quote:When you have your health, you have everything.
First Sentence:Sometimes when you work in advertising, you'll get a product that is really garbage, and you have to make it seem fantastic, something that is essential to the continued quality of life.
Great insight into the mind of an addict and the writing has me wanting to pick up his other memoirs; really enjoy his narrative style. Not recommended however for those with delicate sensibilities.
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Favorite Quote:When you have your health, you have everything.
First Sentence:Sometimes when you work in advertising, you'll get a product that is really garbage, and you have to make it seem fantastic, something that is essential to the continued quality of life.
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