Running with Scissors

I finished Augusten Burroughs' Running with Scissors yesterday. At first I enjoyed it tremendously, but eventually it became kind of tedious.

He tells these amazing stories of growing up with a mentally ill mother who abandons him to the care of an equally mentally ill psychiatrist whose home is like a make-shift open ward in a mental hospital. The stories are bizarre, unbelievable and at times rather disturbing.

Only on occasion did I find it funny. I think this was mainly because his prose was so bland and inelegant. He's been compared to David Sedaris, but Sedaris is a far more accomplished wordsmith.

By the end I didn't feel terribly invested in any of the characters and felt a little sheepish about reading such low-brow airport fare.