Augusten Burroughs is an avid memoirist. Having made a name for himself with the release of his first book, RUNNING WITH SCISSORS, Burroughs has made a career out of describing the trials he has undergone first as a child in an unstable and abusive family, and later as an alcoholic and life after rehab. His latest production, LUST & WONDER, is all about his attempts to build romantic relationships during his less youthful years. 

The reader follows Burroughs through a number of relationships with men who seem to have had neon signs above their heads flashing “NOT RIGHT FOR YOU.” And yet, he succumbs to feelings so many have had before him --- if I can just fix myself, I can make this right; it’s safe so it’s good enough; my doubts are invalid because I myself am invalid. His neuroses steer the journey between comedic and upsetting.

"[T]he book doesn’t really solidify into anything more than a more-entertaining-than-average series of occurrences.... Burroughs clearly has a devoted band of followers who already know and love him. So it’s possible that having not read his previous works, I was at a disadvantage."

Unfortunately, the book doesn’t really solidify into anything more than a more-entertaining-than-average series of occurrences. Memoirists have long taken risks revealing themselves and those closest to them. Burroughs himself had a run-in with such exposure in the past --- via a lawsuit settled in his favor that a family he previously wrote about brought against him. Still, I found his detailing his partners’ failures a bit gruesome. 

While picking apart the dirty details is often the most captivating part of learning about another’s life, it’s a worthwhile endeavor only if it leads to something more. We read in part from an interest in learning about someone different, but also to see our own lives reflected back at us --- or our own lives, but better. At some point, the majority of people will be in unhappy relationships. Though we don’t all have the same verve that Burroughs displays for describing our unhappinesses, I couldn’t keep the feeling at bay that the book didn’t offer very much. The shortcomings of former partners are important to acknowledge, but then what? If anything, Burroughs himself often comes across as the party bringing less to the partnership in terms of emotional maturity. And his ultimate happiness with his partner, his ever-laughing agent Christopher, seems like a stroke of good luck.

Burroughs clearly has a devoted band of followers who already know and love him. So it’s possible that having not read his previous works, I was at a disadvantage. Throughout the book, there lingered a feeling that a fair amount of important information that would add to the story was being left out. At first I thought it was one of those tactics that certain people use. Obliquely referring to a sordid past as a kind of “I don’t want to tell you, but I want to tell you” often works in person if you want someone to pump you for information, but doing it in a book is a confusing tactic.

It’s problematic for a book to rely on its predecessors to build something (although it’s a fair critique to point out that for a career memoirist, you might expect something of that nature). Though undoubtedly an entire oeuvre might build to something greater than each part, each part nonetheless should be able to stand on its own. Burroughs’ descriptions of Christopher and his obsession with jewels are where his style shines like the gems he so admires. Otherwise, unlike his fears and insecurities, the book is not that gripping.