![Picture](/uploads/3/0/6/8/30687363/1188240.jpg?179)
Book Summary:
After getting in trouble for lighting a locker on fire at school, eighth-grader Brent Runyon decides he can’t stand to disappoint his parents yet again, so he goes home, puts on a bathrobe, douses himself with gasoline, steps into the empty bathtub, and then lights himself on fire while his brother plays basketball outside. This one act of despair changes Brent’s entire life. The book chronicles his year of recovery after the incident, describing in detail his many surgeries, the drugs, the well-wishers, the treatments, the physical therapy and more, as he struggles to come to terms with what happened and why he did it. We read along as Brent does the horrific act, is whisked away by paramedics, and then spends the next five months in treatment at the Children’s National Medical Center in Washington, D.C. Here he becomes close to his care-providers and to his parents during the ordeal, although he wages battle against his psychologist, whom he resents for her probing questions. During this time, Brent’s brother also struggles with some anger towards him. In June, Brent transitions to the du Pont Institute in Wilmington, Delaware, a place where he can do more intensive therapy in preparation for his trip home. His experience there is not as homey as the burn unit at Children’s and Brent spends most of his time feeling lonely and missing his friends and family. This period shows Brent wrestling with guilt over his actions and preparing himself to face the scene of the event when he returns home. He returns to Virginia, but doesn’t go back to school right away, instead spending some time in Dominion, a juvenile facility for troubled teens, where Brent really doesn’t fit in. The book ends with Brent back at home with his family and returning to his school.
APA Reference:
Runyon, B. (2004). The burn journals. New York, NY: Alfred Knopf.
Impressions:
This book has long been a favorite among my students when we do our non-fiction unit, but I had always shied away from it because the subject matter was so appalling. I was expecting a lot of gruesome detail, and, to a degree, my assumptions were correct; Runyon doesn’t shy away from the painful details of his burns, but the book is so much more than a shop of burn unit horrors. Runyon helped me consider aspects of his recovery and treatment I had never considered, including how a burn victim would need to be bathed and re-wrapped. I also did not know about Runyon spares no detail, even ones that might be embarrassing or humiliating. For example, he unflinchingly presents how he went to the bathroom and even documents how he coped with getting hard-ons during some of his massage therapy. What keeps this from being crass is Runyon’s often self-deprecating and cheeky voice which communicates re-tellings of these awkward situations with humor and warmth.
I especially enjoyed how Runyon did not shy away from discussing his sexuality because it reminded me that that he was more than a burn victim; he was still a teenage boy with urges just like any other teenage boy. I loved how his room at the burn unit didn’t just have posters from well-wishers; he also had sexy posters of models, much to his mother’s objections. It was also touching and sad how this is sometimes juxtaposed with Runyon’s inner monologue. For example, on his “date” to the movies with his favorite nurse, he is a bit randy, but he also wonders whether someone will ever be capable of loving him or marrying him one day.
One of the best things about the book is its pacing. The beginning of the book, especially after Runyon lights himself on fire, consists of a succession of brief snapshots, the narrative pulsing in and out almost like heartbeats as Runyon himself wavers in and out consciousness. This reflects Runyon’s often heavily drugged state. As he emerges from the heavy drugs and begins successive rounds of treatments, surgeries, and therapies, the entries grow in length and become more introspective. The writing is frank and un-flowery, so when Runyon drops in some figurative language, it is arresting for the reader. It usually also serves a purpose, to help the reader understand something he or she most likely has no experience with. For example, Runyan (2004) reminisces about the times he experienced pain as a child; he then juxtaposes his current state of pain, writing “But sometimes, during burn care, the pain feels like it goes on forever—like it’s the ocean and I’m crossing it in a rowboat” (p.99). He also uses understatement, sliding in observations that hit readers between the eyes. At one point, Runyon describes how the human body can adapt to anything even pain so that it becomes normal; he writes, “It’s weird I got so used to being in pain all the time, now I’m just uncomfortable” (p.117).
One of the surprising parts of the book is how little it delves into Runyon’s emotional and psychological state. The humor might be one way of deflecting attention away from this painful topic. While Runyon does reveal that he had attempted suicide before, he is unable to explain why he did what he did. He no longer feels depressed. For some readers, this will be a stretch. Ultimately, I accepted that he didn’t have an answer to this question; when you are depressed, it’s not like you are rational. However, while I was amused at Runyon going rounds with his psychologists ( I confess I laughed out loud when he referred to one psychologist as “Bitchenstein”), I think the book would have been even more powerful if he had actually dealt with some of his psychological problems in his narrative. We see Runyon stalling for time, asking for time to think, and then never giving an actual answer. It is like the elephant in the room on every page. At the end of the book, he is returning to school, but how has he changed emotionally? How is he different from the boy who lit himself on fire?
Even though we watch Runyon physically heal, we are deprived of seeing him mentally recover. It seems like he is magically “better,” which I am sure, is far from Runyon’s intent. This is perhaps the problem with memoir; sometimes we are just too close to our own stories to portray them fully. That seems like a paradox, but in this case, I think it rings true. That being said, Runyon does confront the stigma of attempted suicide in how he describes his shame and fear of being asked what happened to him. He feels guilt at inflicting upon himself what happened to others by accident. There is a stigma attached to mental health and suicide, and I think this book has a place in every collection because it shows the human being behind it; people who attempt suicide (or even those who succeed) are more than the acts they attempt to commit.
Professional Review:
Gr. 8-12. On the sixteenth page of this incisive memoir, eighth-grader Brent Runyon drenches his bathrobe with gasoline and ("Should I do it? Yes.") sets himself on fire. The burns cover 85 percent of his body and require six months of painful skin grafts and equally invasive mental-health rehabilitation. From the beginning, readers are immersed in the mind of 14-year-old Brent as he struggles to heal body and mind, his experiences given devastating immediacy in a first-person, present-tense voice that judders from uncensored teenage attitude and poignant anxiety (he worries about getting hard-ons during physical therapy) to little-boy sweetness. And throughout is anguish over his suicide attempt and its impact on his family: "I have this guilt feeling all over me, like oil on one of those birds in Alaska." Runyon has, perhaps, written the defining book of a new genre, one that gazes as unflinchingly at boys on the emotional edge as Zibby O'Neal's The Language of Goldfish (1980) and Laurie Halse Anderson's Speak (1999) do at girls. Some excruciatingly painful moments notwithstanding, this can and should be read by young adults, as much for its literary merit as for its authentic perspective on what it means to attempt suicide, and, despite the resulting scars, be unable to remember why. -Jennifer Mattson
Mattson, J. (2004). [Review of the book The burn journals, by B. Runyon]. The Booklist, 100(19/20), 1753. Retrieved from ProQuest database. https://libproxy.library.unt.edu/login?url=http://search.proquest.com/docview/235506499?accountid=7113
Library Uses:
I think this book would be a great part of a program for Suicide Prevention Awareness month in September. Brent’s story is so powerful, and since he went through this as a teenager, he has immediate credibility with teen audiences. Since Runyon is originally from Falls Church, VA, I think it would be effective to do an author visit and perhaps partner with a suicide prevention organization to do outreach to teens and teach them what to do if they or someone they know is contemplating suicide or is exhibiting dangerous warning signs. This could be addressed as a community-wide initiative to raise awareness and communicate that mental health is not something one should be ashamed about. This program could be further developed through the inclusion of other books on this theme such as Thirteen Reasons Why, by Jay Asher.
After getting in trouble for lighting a locker on fire at school, eighth-grader Brent Runyon decides he can’t stand to disappoint his parents yet again, so he goes home, puts on a bathrobe, douses himself with gasoline, steps into the empty bathtub, and then lights himself on fire while his brother plays basketball outside. This one act of despair changes Brent’s entire life. The book chronicles his year of recovery after the incident, describing in detail his many surgeries, the drugs, the well-wishers, the treatments, the physical therapy and more, as he struggles to come to terms with what happened and why he did it. We read along as Brent does the horrific act, is whisked away by paramedics, and then spends the next five months in treatment at the Children’s National Medical Center in Washington, D.C. Here he becomes close to his care-providers and to his parents during the ordeal, although he wages battle against his psychologist, whom he resents for her probing questions. During this time, Brent’s brother also struggles with some anger towards him. In June, Brent transitions to the du Pont Institute in Wilmington, Delaware, a place where he can do more intensive therapy in preparation for his trip home. His experience there is not as homey as the burn unit at Children’s and Brent spends most of his time feeling lonely and missing his friends and family. This period shows Brent wrestling with guilt over his actions and preparing himself to face the scene of the event when he returns home. He returns to Virginia, but doesn’t go back to school right away, instead spending some time in Dominion, a juvenile facility for troubled teens, where Brent really doesn’t fit in. The book ends with Brent back at home with his family and returning to his school.
APA Reference:
Runyon, B. (2004). The burn journals. New York, NY: Alfred Knopf.
Impressions:
This book has long been a favorite among my students when we do our non-fiction unit, but I had always shied away from it because the subject matter was so appalling. I was expecting a lot of gruesome detail, and, to a degree, my assumptions were correct; Runyon doesn’t shy away from the painful details of his burns, but the book is so much more than a shop of burn unit horrors. Runyon helped me consider aspects of his recovery and treatment I had never considered, including how a burn victim would need to be bathed and re-wrapped. I also did not know about Runyon spares no detail, even ones that might be embarrassing or humiliating. For example, he unflinchingly presents how he went to the bathroom and even documents how he coped with getting hard-ons during some of his massage therapy. What keeps this from being crass is Runyon’s often self-deprecating and cheeky voice which communicates re-tellings of these awkward situations with humor and warmth.
I especially enjoyed how Runyon did not shy away from discussing his sexuality because it reminded me that that he was more than a burn victim; he was still a teenage boy with urges just like any other teenage boy. I loved how his room at the burn unit didn’t just have posters from well-wishers; he also had sexy posters of models, much to his mother’s objections. It was also touching and sad how this is sometimes juxtaposed with Runyon’s inner monologue. For example, on his “date” to the movies with his favorite nurse, he is a bit randy, but he also wonders whether someone will ever be capable of loving him or marrying him one day.
One of the best things about the book is its pacing. The beginning of the book, especially after Runyon lights himself on fire, consists of a succession of brief snapshots, the narrative pulsing in and out almost like heartbeats as Runyon himself wavers in and out consciousness. This reflects Runyon’s often heavily drugged state. As he emerges from the heavy drugs and begins successive rounds of treatments, surgeries, and therapies, the entries grow in length and become more introspective. The writing is frank and un-flowery, so when Runyon drops in some figurative language, it is arresting for the reader. It usually also serves a purpose, to help the reader understand something he or she most likely has no experience with. For example, Runyan (2004) reminisces about the times he experienced pain as a child; he then juxtaposes his current state of pain, writing “But sometimes, during burn care, the pain feels like it goes on forever—like it’s the ocean and I’m crossing it in a rowboat” (p.99). He also uses understatement, sliding in observations that hit readers between the eyes. At one point, Runyon describes how the human body can adapt to anything even pain so that it becomes normal; he writes, “It’s weird I got so used to being in pain all the time, now I’m just uncomfortable” (p.117).
One of the surprising parts of the book is how little it delves into Runyon’s emotional and psychological state. The humor might be one way of deflecting attention away from this painful topic. While Runyon does reveal that he had attempted suicide before, he is unable to explain why he did what he did. He no longer feels depressed. For some readers, this will be a stretch. Ultimately, I accepted that he didn’t have an answer to this question; when you are depressed, it’s not like you are rational. However, while I was amused at Runyon going rounds with his psychologists ( I confess I laughed out loud when he referred to one psychologist as “Bitchenstein”), I think the book would have been even more powerful if he had actually dealt with some of his psychological problems in his narrative. We see Runyon stalling for time, asking for time to think, and then never giving an actual answer. It is like the elephant in the room on every page. At the end of the book, he is returning to school, but how has he changed emotionally? How is he different from the boy who lit himself on fire?
Even though we watch Runyon physically heal, we are deprived of seeing him mentally recover. It seems like he is magically “better,” which I am sure, is far from Runyon’s intent. This is perhaps the problem with memoir; sometimes we are just too close to our own stories to portray them fully. That seems like a paradox, but in this case, I think it rings true. That being said, Runyon does confront the stigma of attempted suicide in how he describes his shame and fear of being asked what happened to him. He feels guilt at inflicting upon himself what happened to others by accident. There is a stigma attached to mental health and suicide, and I think this book has a place in every collection because it shows the human being behind it; people who attempt suicide (or even those who succeed) are more than the acts they attempt to commit.
Professional Review:
Gr. 8-12. On the sixteenth page of this incisive memoir, eighth-grader Brent Runyon drenches his bathrobe with gasoline and ("Should I do it? Yes.") sets himself on fire. The burns cover 85 percent of his body and require six months of painful skin grafts and equally invasive mental-health rehabilitation. From the beginning, readers are immersed in the mind of 14-year-old Brent as he struggles to heal body and mind, his experiences given devastating immediacy in a first-person, present-tense voice that judders from uncensored teenage attitude and poignant anxiety (he worries about getting hard-ons during physical therapy) to little-boy sweetness. And throughout is anguish over his suicide attempt and its impact on his family: "I have this guilt feeling all over me, like oil on one of those birds in Alaska." Runyon has, perhaps, written the defining book of a new genre, one that gazes as unflinchingly at boys on the emotional edge as Zibby O'Neal's The Language of Goldfish (1980) and Laurie Halse Anderson's Speak (1999) do at girls. Some excruciatingly painful moments notwithstanding, this can and should be read by young adults, as much for its literary merit as for its authentic perspective on what it means to attempt suicide, and, despite the resulting scars, be unable to remember why. -Jennifer Mattson
Mattson, J. (2004). [Review of the book The burn journals, by B. Runyon]. The Booklist, 100(19/20), 1753. Retrieved from ProQuest database. https://libproxy.library.unt.edu/login?url=http://search.proquest.com/docview/235506499?accountid=7113
Library Uses:
I think this book would be a great part of a program for Suicide Prevention Awareness month in September. Brent’s story is so powerful, and since he went through this as a teenager, he has immediate credibility with teen audiences. Since Runyon is originally from Falls Church, VA, I think it would be effective to do an author visit and perhaps partner with a suicide prevention organization to do outreach to teens and teach them what to do if they or someone they know is contemplating suicide or is exhibiting dangerous warning signs. This could be addressed as a community-wide initiative to raise awareness and communicate that mental health is not something one should be ashamed about. This program could be further developed through the inclusion of other books on this theme such as Thirteen Reasons Why, by Jay Asher.