Weird. Weird. Weird. Weird. Weird. Weird. Weird. Weird.
^ I copy and pasted weird to write that sentence.
An old friend of mine said Running With Scissors by Augusten Burroughs was one of her favorite books. I’m super into memoirs so I immediately added it to my reading list. I came across a hard copy last year and purchased, & I truly thought I’d love it.
I didn’t hate it. I didn’t love it. I had this weird (alliteration) icky feeling throughout the entire book. I can’t even describe it.
What Burroughs went through growing up is horrible; the instability of his mother, being handed off to an even more unstable psychopath…there is so much more I can’t even begin to list here.
I feel awful for him & I could never put myself in his shoes or begin to imagine what it was like for him. But I got an eery sense that he was prideful (not sure if that’s the correct adjective) of his experiences. Again, I don’t know. I can’t even describe it.
Have you read this book? Have you read his other novels? Although I didn’t enjoy this read, I added his other work to my reading list in hopes of understanding him and his psyche a bit better. I want to get a better feel for him as a writer, because I just have this very off-setting feeling that won’t go away when I think about Running With Scissors.
Am I the only one? Please – share your thoughts/feelings! Help me explain my feelings about this book!