Augusten Burroughs’ Possible Side Effects

By Breanne Boland June 15, 2006 Issue

I wonder sometimes if memoirists who find fame by detailing the lowest points of their lives ever wish their years of squalor had gone on just a little bit longer. After they’ve escaped or overcome their addictions, terrible behavior, or crippling poverty, after they’ve written harrowing and affecting accounts of the worst times of their lives, and they’re sitting in front of the computer, about to start the follow-up to their runaway bestsellers, do they ever think, “If only I’d waited just a little longer. Gathered a little more material. Then I could have recovered.”

It sounds cold and calculating, I know. However, most people don’t make a living from detailing past miseries. Augusten Burroughs does, and with alcoholism and a turbulent and nearly unbelievable childhood behind him, he finds himself in a unique position. His life has undoubtedly improved immeasurably, but… what does he write about now? Running With Scissors detailed his childhood spent with his mother’s psychiatrist’s insane family, and Dry depicted his fall into alcoholism and his climb out of it, two more harrowing memoirs than most people have in them. However, he faces the problem that often confronts artists who become successful from works based on pain and turbulence: when you’re contented, secure, and healthy where do you find inspiration?

Burroughs is now relatively comfortable. He’s in love and has a job that isn’t slowly destroying him. While he’s still a quirky guy, he has no major destructive force in his life, and he isn’t slowly succumbing to a fatal addiction. He probably enjoys waking up in the morning much more nowadays, but there’s a reason that achieving goals and general satisfaction usually comes at the end of a story — they’re much more of a conclusion than a jumping off point. Consequently, Possible Side Effects feels like an outtakes collection from his first two books of memoir. The essays can be roughly grouped into three categories: More Terrible Scenes from My Childhood, Further Horrors from the Depths of Alcoholism, and I’m Healthy Now, but Still Neurotic as Can Be.

Don’t get me wrong — there’s still plenty of entertaining stuff here. Without one enormous, difficult piece of his life as the focus, he can tell stories without bringing such gravity, more like the scathing humor of his novel Sellevision. He can talk about ridiculous situations that come up within his circle of friends and his menagerie of odd acquaintances. He can talk about his home life, and the dogs he regards as children. Not wallowing in the darkest parts of one’s past opens up many more literary possibilities, and his forays into fiction have proven that his skill in writing extends to more than depicting his past.

This makes Possible Side Effects feel like a transition. The two biggest stories, the major dark periods of his life, have been documented. As much as people enjoyed them, I suspect that no one wishes for him to be able to write another such book. Instead, we have this book, which is an entertaining quick little read, but which shows signs of growing pains. For instance, on the copyright page, there’s this note: Some of the events described happened as related; others were expanded and changed. Some of the individuals portrayed are composites of more than one person, and many names and identifying characteristics have been changed as well. It could well be one memoirist covering his ass after the controversy over A Million Little Pieces; however, it looks a bit like one memoirist having to massage the material a little to assemble another book from his well-mined life.

It would be unjust to call this book a stumble, but it does seem like a reach, an experiment with short personal essays instead of the long dramatic arcs he’s worked with before. The humor that’s earned him success is there in spades, but often the problem is with the denouement; the essays often end more with a wither or a whisper than a bang, leaving you thinking, “…and?” As an anecdote or observation related over dinner, they’d be very funny, but assembled and expanded (and apparently sometimes changed and combined), they occasionally feel a little thin.

I enjoyed Possible Side Effects, but I’m really looking forward to his next book, when he’s a bit steadier about where the rest of his literary life will take him. His imagination can be even more twisted and implausible than his experiences, which is no small compliment to his creative capabilities. As it is, the title of this book could well refer to what happens when a writer like Burroughs becomes successful. Side effects may include larger print runs, more frequent publication, critical accolades, and radical changes in life that are good for the person, but which require some adjustments for the art.

Possible Side Effects by Augusten Burroughs, St. Martin’s Press, 291 pages, available at libraries and bookstores.

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