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Special to the Star Tribune
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When Brent Runyon was 14 years old, he went into his bathroom, put on a gasoline-soaked robe, stepped into the shower and lit himself on fire. It was a suicide attempt, to be sure, but at the instant of combustion, Runyon knew that he had made a terrible mistake and that he wanted to live. His family rushed him to the hospital, and so began months of painful physical rebuilding and, of course, years of mental and emotional recovery.
When he reached his 20s, a friend suggested Runyon write down everything he could remember from his horrific experience and call it "The Burn Journals." His book would have been fascinating regardless of quality simply because what Runyon did to himself was so disturbingly compelling. But, remarkably, Runyon's sensitivity to detail and his sharp manner of blending poignancy and irony push "The Burn Journals" beyond the freak show tell-all it might have been into the realm of moving and purposeful nonfiction works.