You know that saying “Truth is stranger than fiction”? It’s true. I finished reading Running with Scissors, a memoir by Augusten Burroughs today, and despite all the reviews on the back cover saying that the book was twisted and horrifying (yet hilarious). When I read the book, though, I found the book hilarious and well-written but was disappointed in the lack of twistedness. Where is the train wreck factor, I asked myself as I read. The reviews on the back cover promised me train wrecks. Now where are they?
But as I read, the story continued to be surprisingly tame. Was it my own fault, or was I expecting something that may not even show up? The answer was both. See, I have train wreck syndrome. Have you ever passed an accident on the road and absolutely have to stare? That’s me with just about everything. What most people would read and say “Wow, that’s terrible!”, I read and just keep on reading because that’s how my brain works. I’m used to the horror, so to speak.
Overall: A good book, but I probably wouldn’t read it again. Not because it was only mediocre, but because I don’t think I’d get more out of a reread.