Augusten Burroughs. Dry (2003) Picador

Augusten Burrough's Dry is a memoir of addiction and recovery. It begins with an ultimatum: go into rehab or lose your job. Augusten, who narrates the whole ordeal, thinks this is all very funny. He takes the time off before he leaves for rehab to drink. He has built his entire life around selective vision: he doesn't notice how much he drinks, how it affects those around him, how close to dying he is.

"He doesn't pat my back or pull away after a few seconds. He hugs me tightly and takes deep, slow breaths, almost like he is teaching me how to breathe."

He enters rehab, and everything is described through his jaundiced eye. The first time he realizes how much he's been drinking (a liter of Scotch every single night) he begins to come around: He is close to dying from alcoholism.

"I'm worried that all of the inner mess that was channeled in alcoholism is now channeled into other disturbing rivers. That I've drained the lake to flood the city."

After leaving rehab, he tries to reshape his life to fit his sobriety. His recovery is narcassitic in some ways, just another ploy to gain attention. He commits a cardinal sin: he becomes romantically involved with another addict.

"I stand by the door looking at the others guys who are themselves looking for other guys. The whole thing suddenly strikes me as beyond sad. All of this exposed loneliness. These raw nerves firing into the dark."

What causes him to relapse is his hubris. He considers himself cured, fixed, beyond the need of AA and therapy, he takes his sobriety for granted. He makes a LOT of bad choices; half of the torture of the book is watching him struggle to pull himself of of his own slow death. His greatest enemy is himself, and the humor that marked the beginning of the book it darker, misplaced. His humor is a defense against the realization of what a mess he is.

"Last month, I am smoking crack in the South Bronx and this month, I am urinating in my own bed. This is not progress."

Dry is sometimes difficult to read, not because it isn't well-written (it is), but because Augusten endears himself to you, and you feel protective of him. His process of recognizing his own addiction is smart, funny, sad, and visceral. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone newly on the wagon, he talks of booze with a reverence only a drunk can muster, lamenting throughout the book about his mad desire for it. But if you think someone you love might have a drinking problem, this engaging, beautiful book is require reading.