Read this as an audio book.. So guess I should say listened to it. The book is at times harsh and disturbingly frank in its descriptions of alcoholism. Mr Burroughs is very open with his account of his addiction. At times I really didn't like him, but the writing itself was captivating. I wanted to keep listening, I wanted to hear more. Although it took me a while to get through the book, it was only due to restrictions of time to actually listen to a book. Mr Burroughs was the actual narrator of the book and I thought he did a wonderful job.

Like this author's honesty. He is very funny, but in a dark way. He is neurotic, but knows it. He approaches sobriety as he approaches life, something to be endured. Still, you want to reward him for his honesty and give him the good life he deserves.

Sharp, candid, and surprisingly poignant...

The fact that I finished this book in one day probably indicates 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.

I was surprised to find, at the back of this book, so many rave reviews (or at least passages thereof) published in impressive places, including both The New York Times and The NYT Book Review. I found the whole thing glib and shallow. I'm not especially concerned with how much of this "memoir" is historically accurate; I know there was a legal suit about alleged fictionalization and defamation in Running with Scissors, and I figure most memoirists deploy some artistic license whose extent readers aren't in a position to evaluate. The disappointment for me was the utter superficiality of this story. Burroughs doesn't owe readers a tale of salvation or transformation, but I can't identify a single change or insight derived from the experiences narrated here. Why bother telling a story of alcoholism, sobriety, love, and loss, if none of those experiences has any particular impact that the book is going to record? Both in dialogue and in narration, Burroughs boasts repeatedly of his "shallowness"; I agree. But I have no idea why a shallow human being should want to write a memoir, or why anyone else should want to read it.

Probably 3.5

Looses steam somewhere around the middle and sort of tapers off... gets back up again, then tapers off again? maybe that was the point, cause of, you know, recovery. When everything is about his love interests and their story, rather than his psychology of the moment it tended to get a bit dull for me, but i realise that - in the overall arch of the story - it’s all equally important to the understanding of his path.

Anyway, Burroughs is a funny guy, self-deprecating in some sense, but also full of the kind of ‘i’m judging the shit out of you’ that we’re all guilty of. It feels real, it feels relatable, and even though he self-confessed hyperbole, it’s easy to see that these metaphors are rooted in some truth. I haven’t read running with scissors but i’ll be adding it to the list.

Certainly entertaining, but Dry is overwhelming in its superficiality.

Depois do seu grande êxito “Correr com tesouras”, em que relata a sua infância extravagante, doado para adopção pela mãe, meia louca, a um louco completo, seu psiquiatra e com cuja família Burroughs vive uma adolescência sem regras e alucinante, o autor continua a descrever a sua vida, agora jovem publicitário em Nova Iorque, uma carreira de sucesso, fazendo de Manhattan o seu mundo e do álcool a sua vida.
É pois um livro autobiográfico que nos mostra a descida aos infernos do alcoolismo, dos processos de recuperação, mas também de toda a vida de Augusten Burroughs nessa altura, no campo profissional, e principalmente no campo afectivo, com destaque para a sua homossexualidade.
Muito bem escrito, faz-nos correr as folhas, nunca entediando o leitor.
Mas para mim, o maior valor do livro, como já sucedera no anterior é a forma que AB escolhe para narrar o seu livro – ele não ficciona o enredo, o livro gira sobre a sua própria vida e os seus sentimentos, exactamente como eu gosto e já agora como um aparte, a única forma em que me sinto à vontade a escrever.

"Advertising make everything seem better than it actually is. And that's why it's such a perfect career for me. It's an industry based on giving people false expectations. Few people know how to do that as well as I do, because I've been applying those basic advertising principles to my life for years."
"Especially since advertising dictates that you're only as good as your last ad. This theme of forward momentum runs through many ad campaigns."
"When I open a bill, it freaks me out. For some reason, I have trouble writing checks. I postpone this act until the last possible moment, usually once my account has gone into collection. It's not that I can't afford the bills--I can--it's that I panic when faced with responsibility. I am not used to rules and structure and so I have a hard time keeping the phone connected and the electricity turned on."
"I, on the other hand, try to trick and manipulate people into parting with their money, a disservice."
"There is a gash and there is blood. More blood, really, than the gash calls for. Head wounds are so dramatic."
"It would be austere except for the leopard-print chair behind the desk which lets you now the person in this office is "creative."
"When I was a kid, the "e" went out in the local Price Chopper grocery store and stayed out for many years. Because the "Pric Chopper" logo happened to be a man wielding an ace, the sign sent out an eerie and powerful castration message, which, at the age of twelve, affected me deeply."
"Paul is the first person to start. "My name is Paul and I'm an alcoholic." ... The room screams, "Hi Paul!" back at him with such startling force that I flinch."
"I feel like I have less baggage and so, I don't know, I'm able to just accept things more, not have to fight them. Don't fight the river, go with it."'
"He and my mother are like clams without shells. Clams and snails and lobsters without their shells. Vulnerable and exposed. I email my mother every day... I'm removed from her not just by miles and cities, not just by computer, but also by time. I call fairly often, but I don't send her any money even though a little of mine would be huge for her. Is this punishment? It just feels too difficult to find the stamp, make out the check and mail it off. Like when you have a dream where you're trying to run underwater. I'm not committed to my mother..."
"I thought about how I could never bring myself to visit her. And when I did, last time must have been over a year and a half ago, I could never bring myself to stay long. From the moment I walked in the door to her apartment, the need hit me in the face, thick like an odor. Would I change a lightbulb? Then roll her across the bridge. Then buy canned tuna. Then unscrew something, affix something or bring something to her and set it in her lap. Always turning something on or off, moving something from one side to another. As if she needed me to do these things, me specifically.... I feel dirty when I visit my mother. I feel that her intimacy is exposed. Her nightgowns are so thin that her flesh shows through them. Her need is like a vagina. And I do not like to see it.... These rooms smell of paralysis. They smell of the handicapped."
"Now that I've asked if we can talk, I don't want to talk. "Maybe it's just my Sunday night dread. I hate Sundays, I don't want to go to work tomorrow."
"He said they had a quiet night. And I could imagine it. He said they ate dinner together. And I could hear the knives scraping against the plates. I could hear the water glasses being set down on the table. Both of them sitting there, steeping in failure. And I was thinking how horrible that must feel. How doomed I would feel if it has been me sitting there telling people that I relapsed."
"It's better than manual labor," I point out. "The least amount of work for the most amount of money." ... Only two hours of actual work, yet it's drained us completely."

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.)

A well-written, conversational book on the author's alcoholism. He wasn't likable in places, and I grew weary of his immaturity and treatment of his friends, the one 'love of his life' in particular.
However, he gave a true landscape of the alcoholic experience.

5 stars. The memoir of an alcoholic gay man in New York. This book has taken me on a journey of despair through dive bars of New York City to rock bottom. It has made me laugh, get choked up, look away in abject horror. Brutal honesty, irony, and the wittiest of observations. I have been enraptured. This is a book with grit and heart.

I love this book! The writing is compelling and the storytelling is engaging and powerful. First book about alcoholism recovery I have ever read and it hits hard. Highly recommend!!!