It’s lighter and pinker than cotton candy, the perfect two-hour flight book, and it’s made me laugh out loud. Augusten Burroughs’ Possible Side Effects, a collection of essays about things as creepy as an innkeeper who collects dolls (“Then I moved to the window and lowered the shade. It was early evening and I didn’t like the thought of the innkeeper crouching outside the window with a doll, watching.”) and as creepier as advertising (“I hadn’t been on the account for one week and already the phrase ‘mint threshold’ was being bandied about. This was, I felt, a bad omen. I was in one of what would be many Junior Mints meetings. Far more meetings than one would expect of a product that is eaten entirely in the dark.”)