Tuesday, January 07, 2003

finished reading augusten burroughs' running with scissors yesterday, and what a funny, disturbing, witty book it is. burroughs (whose previous book, the novel sellevision, is solid satire) had a certifiably crazy mother who saw herself as anne sexton redux, and who essentially handed him to her (somewhat crazy himself) psychiatrist to raise in a house full of not only his own family, but some of his patients. burroughs' first lover, as it were, was a 33-year-old pedophile (the author was 13 at the time). the writing is effortless and blissful, the pace perfect for the subject matter (largely chronological, of course, as befits a memoir). if you're a david sedaris fan, you'll love this book. if you're not, you will anyway. [I'd quote my favorite passage, but loaned the book to jenn and am unable to do so at the moment. forgive me.]

I'm now working on boyfriend material, one of the latest of kensington's horribly-cheesy-cover-hiding-an-actually-clever-gay-novel-inside books, by jon jeffrey. light but not too vacuous, it's a "four best friends in nyc looking for the perfect boyfriend" novel. delightful. chapter 6 opens with this lovely line: "pop stars don't have morning breath."

over the weekend, I picked up two very "me" coffeetable books, rolling stone: the complete covers and mtv uncensored both are absolutely overloaded with lots of pretty pix, and both have surprisingly interesting text, especially (in the case of the latter) if you grew up in the '80s or since (but particularly the '80s). and kurt loder's in both of 'em! rolling stone was so on top of the pop zeitgeist for so long, and their cover gallery (the book was published for their 30th anniversary and accordingly only goes through '97) is a look back through thirty years of pop stardom (in all its forms, stretching to include tricia nixon, patty hearst, schwarzenegger and beavis and butt-head). utterly fascinating.

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