Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs

Synopsis from Barnes & Noble: "Running with Scissors is the true story of a boy whose mother (a poet with delusions of Anne Sexton) gave him away to be raised by her unorthodox psychiatrist who bore a striking resemblance to Santa Claus. So at the age of twelve, Burroughs found himself amidst Victorian squalor living with the doctor’s bizarre family, and befriending a pedophile who resided in the backyard shed. The story of an outlaw childhood where rules were unheard of, and the Christmas tree stayed up all year round, where Valium was consumed like candy, and if things got dull an electroshock- therapy machine could provide entertainment. The funny, harrowing and bestselling account of an ordinary boy’s survival under the most extraordinary circumstances."

Okay, all I can say is, OMG! I cannot imagine living the life the author describes -- it's completely insane. Seriously, I spent most of my time reading with my mouth hanging open, and I kept telling my husband, "He must be exaggerating. This COULD NOT have happened like this." And then I'd think to myself, "Well, actually it could. But damn, I'm glad it didn't happen to me!" What with the brouhaha over truth-in-memoirs these days, you have to wonder how much is really the truth and how much is artistic license, not that I really care one way or the other. Parts were snort-milk-through-your-nose funny (although I could have skipped the sex scenes -- I'm not a prude or anything, but ewww). At the end of the day, this was a well-written book that I couldn't stop reading. I'm going to give the movie a try and hope I like it as much.