Margaret Robison

Memoir is one of my favorite genres, but this memoir just did not pique my interest. I was surprised because I read Augusten Burroughs' memoirs, so I thought his mother's memoir would be another interesting facet of his bizarre personal journey. Instead, this book was something I cam to view as a chore. Perhaps I was not in the right frame of mind to read it when I did. Others may like it just fine.

I have picked this up on several occasions to try to read, but I just can't get into it.

I have read Augusten Burroughs' books and I was looking forward to reading about his mother's life and her perspective on the events described in his books. Unfortunately, this book was a big disappointment. Poorly organized and badly written, it bored me to tears. I couldn't even finish it.

I wanted to enjoy this book more than I did. But Robison's memoir never seemed very cohesive and didn't draw me in. Particularly in the second half of the book, she seems to shift gears from recounting her life to defending herself and the family against the accusations that her son, Augusten Burroughs, has leveled against her and the family in his writings. She seems to have had a fascinating life, but the book could have wrapped it up in a tighter package.