You may not know it, but you've met Augusten Burroughs. When he'd come home from work and Samantha would say, ‘Darren, would you like me to fix you a drink?' He'd always rest his briefcase on the table below the mirror in the foyer, wipe his forehead with a monogrammed handkerchief and say, ‘Better make it a double.'' (from Chapter Two)

Scissors, and casual fans might not go for it.The Tenth Anniversary Edition of the New York Times bestselling book that has sold over half a million copies in paperback. (June)įorecast: Burroughs is now an NPR commentator and started writing a sex column inĭetails last month, so his reader base may be expanding. Burroughs strains here to replicate that zany tone and occasionally indulges in navel-gazing, but readers accustomed to his heady cocktail of fizzy humor and epiphanic poignancy won't be disappointed. One of the many pleasures of Burroughs's first book was the happy revelation that despite the author's surreal, crueler-than-Dickensian upbringing, he managed to land among a tribe of fellow eccentrics. But when he falls for a wealthy crack addict and his best friend begins to succumb to AIDS, the support he'd enjoyed in rehab begins to crumble.

Initially repulsed by his recovery program's maudlin language and mind-numbing platitudes, Burroughs eventually makes a steadfast, equally incredulous friend in rehab, finds his own salvation and confidently re-enters society. and the check?' ' Alas, Burroughs's co-workers are tired of him embarrassing clients by spraying Donna Karan for Men not only around his neck but also on his tongue to mask the tangy miasma of alcohol, and they insist he seek help. The real Augusten would say, 'Could I get a Bloody Mary, extra Tabasco. Asked to sign reams of legal forms before entering rehab, he notes, 'the real Augusten would never stand for this. Burroughs has a knack for ending up in depraved situations and a vibrant talent for writing about them.

None of the many readers of Burroughs's mordant memoir debut, Running with Scissors, would doubt that its entertainingly twisted author could manage, by page 41 of his new installment, to check himself into America's frumpiest alcohol rehab facility for gays.

Dry augusten