Review of "A Wolf at the Table"

So, you may have noticed that to the right, I am now posting "What I'm Reading Now." I hope this will give my readers (as few as there are) some suggestions for what to read and I hope it will spur me to write more reviews.

I just finished reading "A Wolf at the Table" by Augusten Burroughs. I first must say that I have just recently gotten into the biography/autobiography genre and I LOVE Burroughs. There are many reasons for liking him and his writing, but one is the fact that we're both from western Massachusetts. He lived in Amherst and Shutesbury and I grew up in Greenfield, about a 1/2 hour away. I always think it's interesting to read authors who are from one's hometown or who write about it. Burroughs does both in this book. More about that later...

"A Wolf at the Table" chronicles Burroughs' relationship with his father (aka "the wolf.") His father has serious mental health issues and threatens the lives of Augusten, his mother, and their pets on many occasions. Throughout the book, Augusten struggles with the thought of growing up to be like his dad; cold, unfeeling, depressed, homicidal, etc... Augusten shares his earliest memory of his father (from when he was two) to his adult relationship with him. It's well written and captivating. It is a tearjerker, however.

As mentioned, I'm from Greenfield, Massachusetts. Claims to fame: home of Penn Jillette (one half of Penn & Teller), home of Peter Bergeron (major league baseball player), and ummmmmmm.... Yeah, so I thought it was pretty interesting when I read the paragraph that Burroughs wrote about Greenfield,

"Greenfield was about forty minutes from our house. There was something depressing about the town, with so many of its Main Street stores empty, FOR RENT signs taped crookedly in the windows. But I liked Greenfield because its bones were grand. Main Street was wide and elegant. Homes in the town had rolling grass lawns, neoclassical columns, and old fruit trees in front. Greenfield reminded me of a beautiful grandmother that nobody ever visited, but she kept squares of lace on the arms of her sofa anyway."

Augusten...I'm with you all the way.