Fans of Augusten Burroughs's darkly funny memoir Running with Scissors were left wondering at the end of that book what would become of young Augusten after his squalid and fascinating childhood ended. In Dry, we find that although adult Augusten is doing well professionally, earning a handsome living as an ad writer for a top New York agency, Burroughs's personal life is a disaster. His apartment is a sea of empty Dewar's bottles, he stays out all night boozing, and he dabs cologne on his tongue in an unsuccessful attempt to mask the stench of alcohol on his breath at work. When his employer insists he seek help, Burroughs ships out to Minnesota for detoxification, counseling, and amusingly told anecdotes about the use of stuffed animals in group therapy. But after a month of such treatment, he's back in Manhattan and tenuously sober. And while its one thing to lay off the sauce in rehab, Burroughs learns that it's quite another to resume your former life while avoiding the alcohol that your former life was based around. This quest to remain sober is made dramatically more difficult, and the tale more harrowing, when Burroughs begins an ill-advised romance with a crack addict. Certainly the "recovered alcoholic fighting to stay sober" tale is not new territory for a memoirist. But Burroughs's account transcends clichés: it doesn't adhere to the traditional "temptation narrowly resisted" storyline and it features, in Burroughs himself, a central character that is sympathetic even when he's neither likable nor admirable. But what ultimately makes this memoir such a terrific read is a brilliant and candid sense of humor that manages to stay dry even when recalling events where the author was anything but. --John Moe


From Publishers Weekly
Imagine coming home to find hundreds of empty scotch bottles and 1,452 empty beer bottles in your apartment. This is what Burroughs (Running with Scissors) encountered upon returning from Minnesota's Proud Institute (supposedly the gay alcohol rehab choice). "The truly odd part is that I really don't know how they got there," admits Burroughs in this autobiographical tale of being a prodigy with an extremely successful career in advertising and a drive to get as wasted as possible as often as possible. Burroughs's telling of the tale alternates among hilarious, pathetic, existential and hopeful. It is an earnest and cautionary tale of calamity, brimming with Sedaris-like darkly comic quips: "Making alcoholic friends is as easy as making sea monkeys." Burroughs's slight Southern accent and gentle yet glib delivery should summon empathy on the listener's part that may have been lost with another reader. From Minnesota, Burroughs returns to New York and participates in Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. Like James Frey in the similar yet very different book, A Million Little Pieces (see audio review, below), Burroughs believes that when rehab is over, he must walk into a bar to see if he can resist the temptation to drink. Though not a technique condoned by A.A., it certainly makes for a fascinating listening experience.Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc.


From AudioFile
Augusten Burroughs, whose first memoir, RUNNING WITH SCISSORS, revealed his Dickensian childhood, takes on his years as an alcoholic adman in this harrowing yet hilarious personal account. Burroughs tells the listener, "Advertising makes everything seem better than it actually is." He applies that basic tenet to his life, and the result is a series of bad decisions, brutality, Bloody Marys, and banality. Finally, he checks into a gay rehab clinic in Minnesota, as much to get sober as for the "possibility of good music and sex." Burroughs draws the listener into a depressing landscape of drunkenness, crack addiction, and the harsh realities of AIDS. His performance blends self-deprecating black humor with wisecracking confidence. His natural (or hard-learned) wit and charm keep the listener rooting for his success. S.J.H. © AudioFile 2003, Portland, Maine-- Copyright © AudioFile, Portland, Maine


From Booklist
How to follow your successful my-childhood-was-so-bad-it-was-funny memoir? Why, with a then-my-alcoholism-was-so-bad-it-was-funny memoir, of course. Burroughs, who described in Running with Scissors [BKL Je 1 & 15 02] perhaps the funniest emotionally and sexually abusive family in memoir history, now tells the story of his adulthood. After infuriating his advertising coworkers by showing up at a series of meetings stinking of booze, Burroughs is sent to a recovery center for gays and lesbians in Minnesota. He sobers up, at least for a while, and begins to confront both the demons and the comic irrationality of addiction. The narrative descends into cliche-ridden recovery jargon now and again, but Burroughs openly acknowledges the triteness of it and allows us to laugh. Blessedly free from sentimentality and the predictable fall-and-rise plot of your average booze-soaked memoir, Burroughs' characters are well drawn and fresh, even when they rely on archetypes (there's a still-wet drinking buddy, for example, but he's a hilariously morbid undertaker). Burroughs again displays his talent for finding hope and hard-won laughs in the nastiest of situations. John Green
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FROM OUR EDITORS

The Barnes & Noble Review
It would come as no surprise to any reader of Augusten Burroughs's first memoir, 2002's critically acclaimed bestseller Running with Scissors, that the adolescent depicted there would reach adulthood with a raft of emotional issues. In his earlier effort Burroughs recounted how, abandoned by his mother at the age of 12 and raised by her unbalanced psychiatrist, he dropped out of school, enjoyed the run of the doctor's dilapidated home, and entered an abusive relationship with the pedophile who lived in the guest house out back. In Dry, Burroughs presents himself in his early 20s, earning six figures a year as a New York City ad copywriter and drinking so much alcohol that it wafts from his pores. Landing in rehab, Burroughs initially resists 12-step bromides. Upon release, however, he recognizes the strength they give him as he confronts the death of a former lover, an affair with a fellow recovering addict, and his own struggles with the temptation to have just one drink. As with any tale of a battle against substance abuse, there is an element of just waiting for the eventual, inevitable relapse. But Burroughs's wit, along with his ultimate success in keeping his demons at bay, makes this a riveting read. Katherine Hottinger

FROM THE PUBLISHER

You may not know it, but you've met Augusten Burroughs. You've seen him on the street, in bars, on the subway, at restaurants: a twenty-something guy, nice suit, works in advertising. Regular. Ordinary. But when the ordinary person had two drinks, Augusten was circling the drain by having twelve; when the ordinary person went home at midnight, Augusten never went home at all. Loud, distracting ties, automated wake-up calls, and cologne on the tongue could only hide so much for so long. At the request (well, it wasn't really a request) of his employers, Augusten lands in rehab, where his dreams of group therapy with Robert Downey, Jr., are immediately dashed by the grim reality of flourescent lighting and paper hospital slippers. But when Augusten is forced to examine himself, something actually starts to click, and that's when he finds himself in the worst trouble of all. Because when his thirty days are up, he has to return to his same drunken Manhattan life - and live it sober. What follows is a memoir that's as moving as it is funny, as heartbreaking as it is real. Dry is the story of love, loss, and Starbucks as a higher power.

FROM THE CRITICS

The New York Times

Mr. Burroughs remains ebulliently glib when it's useful, as befits his advertising skills. But Dry also deals with two deaths: his lover's and, very nearly, his own. These are no laughing matters, but Mr. Burroughs remains adept at mixing comedy and calamity. — Janet Maslin

Publishers Weekly

Imagine coming home to find hundreds of empty scotch bottles and 1,452 empty beer bottles in your apartment. This is what Burroughs (Running with Scissors) encountered upon returning from Minnesota's Proud Institute (supposedly the gay alcohol rehab choice). "The truly odd part is that I really don't know how they got there," admits Burroughs in this autobiographical tale of being a prodigy with an extremely successful career in advertising and a drive to get as wasted as possible as often as possible. Burroughs's telling of the tale alternates among hilarious, pathetic, existential and hopeful. It is an earnest and cautionary tale of calamity, brimming with Sedaris-like darkly comic quips: "Making alcoholic friends is as easy as making sea monkeys." Burroughs's slight Southern accent and gentle yet glib delivery should summon empathy on the listener's part that may have been lost with another reader. From Minnesota, Burroughs returns to New York and participates in Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. Like James Frey in the similar yet very different book, A Million Little Pieces (see audio review, below), Burroughs believes that when rehab is over, he must walk into a bar to see if he can resist the temptation to drink. Though not a technique condoned by A.A., it certainly makes for a fascinating listening experience. Simultaneous release with the St. Martin's hardcover (Forecasts, Apr. 21). (June) Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.

Library Journal

Burroughs's memoir of his troubled childhood, Running with Scissors, which was recently issued in paperback, captured considerable attention and even had a run on the New York Times's best sellers list. This sequel is an account of his early adult life as an advertising executive in New York City attempting to recover from alcoholism. He begins his advertising career as a 19-year-old with intelligence and a flair for writing but no education past elementary school. But scars remain from the years with his alcoholic father, his lunatic mother, and her wacky psychiatrist, and drinking slowly becomes the focus of his life. Consuming prodigious amounts of alcohol often leaves him hung over and reeking, causing his employer to urge him to attend rehab for a month. He chooses a hospital for gays in Minnesota and, after a week or so, begins to gain some insight about his drinking. After rehab, he returns to his apartment and begins to gather up the 27 large garbage bags of liquor bottles he has accumulated. With irreverent and humorous touches, Burroughs manages to personalize the difficulties of recovery without ever lapsing into sentimentality. This heartfelt memoir will interest readers who enjoyed his debut and those wanting new insights into addiction and recovery. Recommended for large public libraries.-Nancy R. Ives, SUNY at Geneseo Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.

Kirkus Reviews