Book review
Running with Scissors Review
This Running with Scissors review evaluates Augusten Burroughs' memoir as a darkly comic account of family instability, narration, and survival through exaggeration.
- Author
- Augusten Burroughs
- First published
- 2002
Running with Scissors review: chaos turned into comic narration
This Running with Scissors review starts with the book's most obvious feature and its real trick: Augusten Burroughs writes family instability in a voice that keeps making the instability entertaining without pretending it is harmless. The memoir is dark, funny, and relentless. It turns chaos into narrative momentum, which is partly why it became so popular. But the book is more than a shock machine. It is a memoir about what happens when a child's environment is so unstable that exaggeration becomes a way to make reality speak.
The voice matters because it lets the book move fast through material that would otherwise feel unbearable. That speed is a strength and a problem. It keeps the memoir alive, but it also raises ethical questions about how pain is being framed.
Family instability and narrative speed
The memoir's family world is chaotic enough that the prose has to keep moving. Burroughs uses speed to show how instability can make ordinary life feel constantly off balance. The result is a book that reads like a pressure spike. Scenes do not settle; they accelerate. That can be exhilarating, but it can also make the damage feel stylized.
For a related family memoir with a more retrospective and balanced tone, The Glass Castle review is useful. Walls also writes about a dysfunctional family and the strange durability of loyalty, but she keeps more distance from the material. Burroughs is more manic and more willing to make the page feel unstable.
That difference matters because Running with Scissors asks the reader to accept that a memoir can be both a record of harm and a performance of survival. The line between the two is not always neat.
Humor as defense and exposure
One of the book's central mechanisms is humor. Burroughs uses comedy not to erase pain but to make it narratable. The jokes arrive as defense, as provocation, and as a way of keeping the reader from turning away. This can be effective because it lets the memoir expose absurdity without becoming dour.
At the same time, humor can become a shield. Readers may sometimes wonder whether the book is making fun of the family structure or protecting itself from what that structure meant. That uncertainty is part of the reading experience. It is not a failure of the memoir so much as a sign that the memoir is operating in a morally messy zone.
The comic strategy also creates an interesting contrast with A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius review. Eggers is meta and self-aware; Burroughs is more direct and more gleefully transgressive. Both books challenge the idea that grief memoir has to be solemn.
Ethics, memory, and reader unease
Running with Scissors can be unsettling because it converts private damage into public story with a lot of wit. That raises a fair ethical question: when does narration illuminate a harmful past, and when does it aestheticize it? The memoir does not resolve that tension. It lives inside it.
That makes the book useful but also risky. Readers should know that the memoir is designed to provoke as well as to explain. Its moral center is not always stable. The voice is part of the appeal, but it is also what may make some readers distrust the book. That distrust is not irrational. It is an appropriate response to a text that thrives on instability.
Within biography and memoir, the book occupies the more volatile end of the family story spectrum.
Limits and reader fit
The memoir is best for readers who enjoy dark comedy and are comfortable with a narrative that sometimes feels like it is daring you to call it sincere. It is not a calm book, and it is not especially interested in making itself calm. If you want emotional steadiness, it is not the right starting point.
Still, the book has real power. It is vivid, memorable, and willing to make dysfunction visible. Its limitation is that the energy can become repetitive if you do not enjoy the tonal register. But if you do, it delivers a very particular kind of memoir pleasure: discomfort sharpened into style.
The book remains a sharp, if uneasy, entry in the family memoir field.
Comparative routes and adjacent reading
Running with Scissors becomes easier to place when you read it beside The Glass Castle review and Educated review. Walls and Westover write family instability with more retrospective balance, more moral patience, and more visible concern for how memory should be handled. Burroughs is louder, faster, and more willing to use exaggeration as a tool of survival. That makes the book feel less like a settled recollection and more like a performance of surviving in real time. The contrast is valuable because it shows that memoir about dysfunction does not have to sound the same to be credible.
The book also pairs well with A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius review. Eggers and Burroughs are both interested in how style can make family pain readable, but they approach the problem from different angles. Eggers is meta and self-questioning; Burroughs is direct and transgressive. Put together, they show how far memoir can lean into wit before the wit itself becomes the subject. That is one reason Running with Scissors remains culturally sticky. It is not merely describing chaos. It is asking how much comic shape a chaotic life can bear.
Why it still matters now
The memoir still matters because many readers recognize the pressure of growing up in a home where unpredictability becomes normal. Burroughs turns that experience into motion, and the motion is part of the truth. The book shows how humor can be used to preserve agency when stability is unavailable. It is not a comforting lesson, but it is a real one. For readers who have known environments that demand hypervigilance, the book can feel uncomfortably recognizable.
It also matters because it keeps asking the reader to think about the ethics of narration. Burroughs does not make the family story neat. He makes it vivid, funny, and morally unsettled. That unsettledness is a feature, not a bug. It keeps the memoir from becoming a neat redemption arc, and it preserves the uneasy sense that some stories of survival are hard to judge cleanly even when they are easy to remember.
The memoir also continues to attract readers because it makes style part of the ethical question instead of pretending style is neutral. Burroughs uses speed, wit, and exaggeration to narrate instability, and that keeps the book lively even when it feels morally unsettled. The point is not that the style resolves the pain. The point is that the style reveals how pain can be narrated when a tidy account would be false to the life being described.
That is also why the memoir keeps provoking argument. It wants to make dysfunction readable, but it does so with a style that is intentionally unstable. Readers may admire the energy or distrust it, but either way the book keeps forcing attention on the relationship between form and harm. That makes it more than a sensational family story. It is a memoir that asks how much comic velocity a painful childhood can bear before the velocity itself becomes part of the meaning.