Hello all. I have to admit I’m becoming addicted (again!) — this time to addiction memoirs. I’ve read four in the last four months, all written by alcoholics:
Drinking: A Love Story — Caroline Knapp.
Drunk Mom — Jowita Bydlowska.
Drunkard: A Hard-Drinking Life — Neil Steinberg.
The Couch of Willingness — Michael Pond & Maureen Palmer.
I’m still finishing the last two. I pick them up in my spare time, packed up on my Kindle for train rides and class breaks, or late at night when I’ve got time to myself. I really like them. I find them delightful, suspenseful, fascinating, epochal, and redemptive — redemption seems to be a big word in this genre.
But really, why do I like them so much? First, I’ve written one of my own. I know how the story goes from inside out. Second…okay, let me reconsider the list of adjectives I just used:
Delightful. Really? These are without exception intimate portrayals of people who are living horrific lives, cutting out hunks of flesh and soul without knowing how to stop, committing reprehensible acts and then choking on shame, guilt, and remorse. Why is that delightful?
Suspenseful. I already know that they are going to keep drinking until they finally quit. And then they’re going to feel better. Where’s the suspense?
Fascinating. Ditto. The stories are remarkably similar, as though they are simply variations on a theme — sitcom formulas. I mean, right down to the details. They hide bottles all over the house. They get rid of empty bottles in the neighbours’ trash cans. They feel embarrassed going back to the same liquor store day after day. Then they go to another store. How is this fascinating?
Epochal. That’s a word used to describe Greek myths, classic tragedies, and so forth. These folks just get drunk a lot. How epochal is that?
Redemptive. Well, they do finally quit. (I’m still not sure about Neil Steinberg, having not gotten to the end. But I’d be surprised if he didn’t). But “redemption” seems like a pretty strong word for finally behaving in your own best interests rather than continuing to torment yourself and everyone around you.
So here are my best guesses at why those words came to mind:
Delightful. They are such human beings. Such an unpredictable, ever-changing mixture of strengths, weaknesses, suffering, defeat, pride, shame, and even humour. A fair bit of humour in the last three for sure. Because you have to laugh if you’re not going to cry. Or at least get some of each. These memoirs epitomize the complexities and virtues of humans facing and eventually overcoming astonishing challenges.
Suspenseful. When are you going to quit?! How are you going to do it?! You have tried so many times without success (often), I just can’t see how you’re going to pull it off, and I’m waiting for it with every page turned.
Fascinating. See “delightful”. But let me add that these are war stories, dramas, tragedies, and they describe unimaginable extremes of human desperation, depravity, creative problem-solving, and determination. So you really held an airplane bottle of vodka to one nostril, blocking the other, to inhale the fumes? Snorting booze? You poured your wine into baby bottles as camouflage? You really grabbed that bottle off the bar counter while the bartender turned her back? Unbelievable!
Epochal. But they really are epochs. Each and every one. Just as Shakespeare’s tragedies all followed the same formula, and yet each came across as unique, profound, one of a kind. Each one (at least each good one) carries us effortlessly along classic story lines constructed from the basic components of suffering, self-deception, and the inexplicable capacity — the heroic capacity — to come back from the jaws of defeat with your dukes up. Or to reshape your personality until that becomes possible. Addiction memoirs seem an obvious extension of classical drama into our modern age.
Redemptive. Well, what is redemption, anyway? I think it must presuppose the idea of sin, moral failing, finally overcome through some sort of penance that one endures voluntarily to become clean or whole once again. In his recent book, Lance Dodes mentions this assumption as built into the AA-inspired notion that you have to hit bottom before you’re ready to quit. But very often, you do. People fight like crazy to quit. And the most agonizing part of that fight is turning your back on the one thing that provided relief, support, and comfort. As Steinberg puts it, “attending the autopsy of someone you love.” That’s pretty damn courageous.
Addiction memoirs seem to tell the same tortuous story, often starting in the same place and ending in the same place, but with the incredible diversity, the unexpected creativity and novelty, the unanticipated twists and turns, partial victories, temporary failures, redoubts and stupidly courageous counterattacks, that derive from being one of an infinite variety of suffering humans. We are so different. And though addiction pulls us through roughly the same line-up of torture instruments, like those tours you can take through torture chambers in medieval castles — adults, 18 euros; kids, 8 euros — it does so in ways that never cease to surprise me, mesmerize me, and make me proud.
Informed by unparalleled neuroscientific insight and written with his usual flare, Marc Lewis’s The Biology of Desire effectively refutes the medical view of addiction as a brain disease. A bracing and informative corrective to the muddle that now characterizes public and professional discourse on this topic.” —Gabor Maté, M.D., author of In The Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Close Encounters With Addiction
And then there’s this: http://arnade.tumblr.com … not particularly redemptive, suspenseful, or delightful. But certainly fascinating.
I get your point. Very moving photos and captions. Beautifully done.
I guess one thing that makes addiction memoirs different is that they’re created by the addict, completed, maybe even perfected, by the person who’s been through it. Which isn’t the same as images that come from outside the person. To write about how it’s been, you have to have survived it.
…and the best give a rare bird’s eye view of the bell jar of addiction
I have followed Chris’s work for a while now , if you were to read his story , it might make more sense . He walked away from Wall Street and has found stories that need to be told . Maybe , just maybe , one of theses folks will end up with a book deal and a happy ending , maybe not . Not all stories end well but they need to be told .
Hear, hear…
Thanks. Beautifully put.
I read Drinking: A Love Story at least 10 years ago when it first came out. I enjoyed it and found it fascinating, suspenseful, delightful and redemptive but I never did and still don’t find it complete. It tells the story from a point of view of addicts, addiction and rehab from 10 or more years ago. Since it is from this point of view it is basically alcohol that is the paramount demon and speaks very little about what came before that made alcohol so alluring which to me is the paramount demon. I just don’t believe that anyone can move on to a full healthful and life-giving life by giving up a substance alone. Its a start but It was not the original cause of all the angst. If the angst isn’t addressed all hell will just break loose again and any substance that will calm it if only for a while will be used…..but its not the substance that caused any of it in my opinion.
I like your comment Cheryl, it hits the nail on the head so to speak….I have wrestled with this myself.
I don’t get you, Cheryl. She spends a lot of time talking about the rigid and uncomfortable distance that existed between her father and her right up until his death. His overbearing but insensitive way of talking with her. And his alcoholism. She exposed the fake intimacy between her parents and speculated on its impact on her character. Her father’s adultery, her mother’s emotional neutrality… I thought there was a lot of attention given to these factors. And though she didn’t spell it out in a psych report, it was pretty clear that alcohol was an attempt at self-medication, addressing a constant, undermining uncertainty, sense of not being alright, etc. Which was also expressed in her ambivalence, walking a tightrope between (and lying to) two simultaneous boyfriends for years.
No, I think she gave us plenty of info on how she got to alcohol and what it gave her.
And in fact, all hell did break lose later in her life. She died at 43 or so from lung cancer. She’d started smoking in her twenties and never could quit. A sad story overall. But brilliantly told, I thought.
Guess it was closer to 20 years ago that I read it. 1997
I do remember that she died. My point is that the book in and of itself focuses more on alcohol being the culprit to her unhappiness regardless of all that she pointed out in the way of a dissatisfying life. And she does tell us about quitting drinking but the book doesn’t detail the time and energy it takes to focus on the real issues that caused her to drink. And to me that is an important focus. If in fact she did detail that you would remember it more since I did read it in “97”. I do know it left me feeling like alcohol was the demon, the concern and the issue in every way, shape and form. And I just don’t buy that.
I truly believe that those called addict are like any of us and addicted to wanting to live well. When faced with a helplessness to do this we turn to any form of relief to throw ourselves into. When real tools are presented to find our way out of helplessness we strive and return to living well. Quitting a substance in this process is most helpful but it doesn’t end there. We have to keep adding tools, practicing tools and refining them to meet our personal being and needs. So the focus of a journey that is dissatisfying and therefore satisfied by a substance momentarily before it gets worse and therefore quitting to live happily ever after is not the whole story. It is unfair to those suffering to be led to believe that it is that simplistic or that the substance was the culprit when in reality it is and was our own view of one or several situation that with the right tools we can come to see differently and therefore move on.
I don’t think it was simplistic.
Cheryl, I completely echo your POV… addiction may be a period or a factor in a life, but the real story is the bigger one, where you came from, what you were dealt and how you confronted it. Hopefully making a decent life in the end though with scars to show for the struggle, some of them related to the damage that addiction can add to the mix.
But focusing on addiction as the main theme, leaves me disappointed as well. I’d prefer to read a memoir about an interesting whole life, what the person had to overcome, how they did so and what they ended up doing with their life afterwards that’s worth telling about. Even if that’s simply having a satisfying career, a family, a creative outlet, whatever makes them an individual who has done something with the life we are all given.
I’m not saying that those who get lost in addiction or recover without having much to say (though I tend to think that everyone has a story worth telling if it’s told well) about what came after is not worthwhile. I’m just more interested in the whole arc or a life. If addiction was part of it, that’s notable but not the main point.
I’ve kind of wrangled with that myself, not wanting to die saying that my major accomplishment in life was to recover from bulimia. I hope to be able to tell about the friend, I was, the stories I wrote or art I made, the ideas I had that meant something to others, etc.
Thanks again Marc for a great post. I really liked how you reflected on the memoirs and your take on them! Julia
I agree Julia. Glad you appreciated my sentiments. I just think people can be defined by more than their dark days. Most defiantly include the dark days as much comes from them but most were something other than that before and after. Knowing what and who you were before the dark days aid in getting past them and in many cases becoming who it is you always wanted to be.
Julia and Cheryl. Yes, of course, I want to know about the rest of the person’s life as well. And as mentioned, I think this book was chock full of psychological-historical details in that regard. But I think you’re both missing one point. An addiction memoir, like other genres of memoir, must be built on a particular part of one’s life. Memoirs of people lost at sea don’t start with their experience in Kindergarden. Memoirs of mountain-climbing tragedies don’t include a lot of details about childhood events, or bad marriages. In addiction, the psychological factors have to be there — because addiction is something we do to ourselves. But to be readable, the book has to have a main story to tell — yes, with an arc to it — and the person’s struggles with the addiction has to be the main point. That’s what gives it form.
By the way, Keith Richard’s autobiography might be more along the lines you suggest. But frankly I put it down before I got halfway, because I found it boring. It was too inclusive to have much of an arc at all.
Triumph not tragedy. It’s the human spirit, the resilience.
I have always been addicted to Survival Stories, starting as a child… Lost at Sea, Lost on Land, Plane Crashes in Remote Places. Impossible Odds. Lost and then Found.
Now I, too, read Addiction Memoirs. And blogs. Because the human spirit NEVER ceases to amaze me. Inspire me.
Marc, thank you for bringing this up and for the delightful and redemptive way you presented it.
Addiction is finding its way into fiction as well. I just finished GOLD FINCH by Donna Tartt. Full of surprises. Brilliant and illuminating and interior about addiction, although that is not the “story”. It just unfolds… it’s there.
May we never stop sharing. Reading. Writing.
Thanks, Janet. Yes, addiction memoirs are part of a larger family that truly inspires us with the best (and worst) humans are capable of. Thanks for your recommendation. I’ll put it on the list.
I am also addicted to addiction memoirs. I recommend Smashed by Koren Zailckas, Dry by Augusten Burroughs, A Piece Of Cake by Cupcake Brown and More, Now, Again by Elizabeth Wurtzel. I read the Caroline Knapp book when I first quit drinking and found it incredibly moving. It saddened me to discover she died of lung cancer.
Hey Mark
YOu sure it isnt just ” schadenfreude: ??? ha ha ha ha
You’re hilarious.
If it were the case we were getting some sick satisfaction out of viewing others’ misery under a microscope… somehowI don’t think that’s what we’re doing here…
Addiction memoirs seem an obvious extension of classical drama into our modern age?Well I hope my book gets as much attention…hahaha…
Hi Marc you describe my book well, as to the part of… They are such human beings. Such an unpredictable, ever-changing mixture of strengths, weaknesses, suffering, defeat, pride, shame, and even humour, and ultimate redemption.
How are you making out on my book called Life in the game of Additions anyway?, whoops did I just plug my own book? Thanks
Your are truly an amazing man Marc and I repost your site and book all the time. I look forward to hearing from you…
Richard: I try to keep up. I really do try. And I read several chapters of your book, and found them — yes — amazing…. But I can’t do it all. We are a team, right? And I’m not the only one carrying the ball.
For those loving the memoirs James Frey”s A Million Little Pieces is a great read regardless of Oprah’s shake down of him.
Yes, people often condemn that book because it’s sloppy, seedy, and partly fictionalized — so they say. But I read it quite avidly. The guy sure had a story to tell.
I have an “Oldish” copy of Dr.Jekyll and Mr. Hyde , the introduction is written by a man named John Kelman , Kelman last paragraph reads :
” All who have eyes to see can perceive , as the horror grows , one of the supreme dangers of life . One thing is at least obvious . It is that , for all men , so long as they have not entirely capitulated , it is possible to make “some brave out put of the will ” and bid defiance to any such ghastly process within them . Whatever the ultimate explanation of this recondite condition , it is certain that there is no need to lie down under it and in mortal fatalisum accept it as inevitable .
“The self you choose today , and not the self you chose yesterday , is the fate of tomorrow. ”
I have had many black days in my life , the last line of this work along with the unflinching Love of my family has kept me alive .
What an amazing quote, and so relevant to our struggles with addiction. Thanks Donnie. Good to see you back.
Hey Donnie
Here’s mine (since we have similar backgrounds). It is titled “Invictus” and written by Edinburgh’s version of Poe…. quite a bit cleaner drug-wise)
You may know it already.
Out of the night that covers me
Black as the Pit from pole to pole
I thank whatever Gods may be
For my unconquerable soul
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud
Under the bludgeonings of Chance
My head is bloody , but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me ,unafraid
It matters not how strait the gate
How charged with punishments the scroll
I am the master of my fate
I am the captain of my soul
William Earnest Henley
This poem kept me going for some 30 odd years.
PS: Marc: Being the chief grenade thrower and head consigner of IED’s you’ll have to forgive my ignorance if I am not sure if your last message was + or – …..if the first thank you.
I
Wonderful poem. I had no idea where that famous line came from. I can see how it can impart strength and determination….
As for your last comment, I’m not sure what you mean. But I detect no minuses in any of my recent comments, so whatever you refer to must be a plus.
Oh, I see what you mean: A plus for sure: I was referring to the way the word is used and felt in general.
Thanks for these leads, Marc. There indeed some riveting and insighful autobiographical pieces.
I’m enjoying Amy Lee Coy’s _From Death do I Part_.
I wish you’d said something about weeding the wheat from the chaff, for there’s a
lot of chaff out there. Personally, I find the ‘inspiration’ of books which
are packs of lies, dubious: Frey’s _A million little pieces._
We have, in the widest sense, a person’s account of “my fantastic terrifying journey, and how, heroically, I triumphed.” It could be an account of living with a primitive tribe, or trip, unaccompanied, in a sailboat across the Atlantic, or a ‘battle’ with cancer, or surviving a concentration camp. I think it matters if it’s true or made up.
I favor, in understanding ‘life’ and addiction look at the range of accounts. What is real autobiography and what is semi fictional ‘memoir’ (Frey’s defense–a memoir need not be true; if it would read better to have the incident in Las Vegas, then write it so.)
Some real, authentic accounts do have ‘happy endings’; some others are decidedly mixed, and some end tragically. One can benefit from any accounts that are authentic. We can be *entertained* by accounts of “I was kidnapped by aliens [pygmies, flesh-eating ghouls].”
Particular valuable are accounts where the person is not too ‘pat’ and immersed in his or her pet theory. Just give us the facts (as best you can). I find it more useful if the person is *not* touting some simple formula: I was sexually abused by my parent and it made me an alcoholic.” We all have theories about how we got this way, but it helps others if we don’t prune away stuff that doesn’t fit. Yes, my parents were heavy drinkers, but none of my sibs has a problem with alcohol, as I do. Two are seemingly happy and leading full lives.
One last irksome item. Every person selling a program or ‘tonic’ can publish endorsements (real ones, but not always). “I tried this and it works.” Celebrity names help. But a bit of honesty would demand showing a range of outcomes. If Group X were truly to help us tell if its methods work, they would not simply select 20 nearly perfectly recovered cases to include in its handbook.
I wonder, Marc, if the aims of science (and truth) don’t run somewhat counter to aims of a Treatment Program in its self reporting and self promotion, not to say, programs for members. The latter has to inspire: “You can do it; Many have. Thousands have recovered in our program.”
Thanks for listening. Any incoherence is due to an unexpected course of medically prescribed pain medications. 🙂
Hi NN. Pretty cogent for a guy on pain meds. But I agree with you. I want my memoirs to be factual, veridical, honest, and detailed. If they have a pitch to pitch, then indeed the whole intent of the thing is very different. You can’t be selling something and honestly recounting your chaotic life at the same time. Probably.
My editor at Doubleday helped me a lot with my memoir. His advice to me was usually pretty consistent: Tell us more. Exactly what happened? what was it like? How did it feel? Then what happened? He was always pulling for honesty and detail, and I guess I’m now fully convinced that those are the key elements of a good memoir.
HI Marc
Well we found someone ruder and cruder then moi!!
.What in God’s world is funny about accusing you of “schadenfreude” when you already know the redemption you, yourself found is waiting at the end of the read.
“Schadenfreude” connotes some type of superiority and that’s the last thing I see here. Besides finding joy in the sorrows of others is a pretty pathetic way of life. You think so little of yourself that instead of focusing on “redeeming” yourself you have to bring others down to your level. Sounds like a similitude for a weak and yes, alcoholic life..
JLK
I didnt mean to push any buttons here– it was a tease to Marc who seemed to get it
apologies for any offense
Nope , you’r still Number 1 .
Can you slowly explain to me the difference between ” Schadenfreude” and the much use A.A slogan ” But for the Grace of God go I ” ?
I wonder what the difference is
Thanks
Well Donnie
At least I am good at something. Besides you know the old expression “near misses are only good in horse shoes and grenades”. That seems to give me a leg up.
Schadenfreude,if you are at all familiar with German, is almost invariably a word that is loaded with false meaning. “There but” in English is statement of faith and true empathy. Got it?
JLK
“But for the grace of God ” is a truncated version of 1st Corinthians 15:10 .
“In describing pleasure-in-others’-misfortune, two features are not disputable: our pleasure and the other’s misfortune. These features describe a significant conflict between our positive evaluation of the situation and the negative evaluation of the other person. This conflict indicates the presence of a comparative, and sometimes even, a competitive, concern. A major reason for being pleased with the misfortune of another person is that this person’s misfortune may somehow benefit us; it may, for example, emphasize our superiority.”
I find little to no difference between the two .
Hi Donnie
Maybe I need a refresher on my Christian philosophy but I have NEVER seen or heard “there but for” in reference to anything but a sympathetic/empathetic tone. The definition in English allows for several paths of meaning and to my eyes most likely one of sympathy or empathy.
When “God’s grace” is injected I just can’t see the same smart-ass tone of the German esp as it’s in the bible.
Secondly “Grace” is a part of religious tome whereas “schadenfreude is strictly secular. Therefore the meaning of one is open to debate but the other (the German) is pretty hard to use in a hair-splitting exercise. It is what it is. But the Bible, Koran etc are notorious for variegations of meaning. And as you yourself said it is some kind of truncated piece of Corinthians (1) which by definition is open to interpretation.
“Schadenfreude” is invariably used in the German as a pejorative for those who would rather tear others down than build oneself up.. Even the literal translation”joy in the sorrow of others” leaves little room for doubt whereas “there but” could easily go either way.
JLK
PS (1) I don’t think Marc wans to argue angels on pinheads on his blog so I am done
PS (2) I reread Corinthians and am damned if I can find what you are talking about so I am speaking in general terms.
Yes, I think Bill is the court jester here. But thanks for your words, JLK. They certainly ring true for anyone who truly gets off on the pathos of others.
What’s come up for me after reading this entry, is “Are we addicted to the word ‘addicted’?” The word ‘addicted’ has become liked the word ‘depressed’ in its casual usage. ‘Depressed’ and ‘addicted’ used to be clinical words. Now, they are part of everyone’s everyday vocabulary. So what’s the point? If language is really a bunch of symbols representing what we think and do, then using the word ‘addicted’ in such a casual way leads full circle back to earlier discussions of what is addiction, what is an addict, etc. Bottom line, what’s the difference between saying “I love addiction memoirs” and “I’m addicted to addiction memoirs.” I’m reminded of something I’ve written here and elsewhere which states that Everything Is An Addiction. Whatever you like or love is an addiction. Anyway, the point is, I’m not sure it’s great to use certain words in a tongue-in-cheek way. Like, I’ve never found “the soup Nazi” funny. In fact, to me it’s downright offensive. Thanks, Marc, for this opportunity to pontificate a bit 🙂
Gabor Mate mixes real life with research in The Realm of the Hungry Ghost and When the Body Says No. Both insightful and thought provoking.
In my early recovery I was addicted to celebrity addiction memoirs. I read:
High on Arrival – Mackenzie Phillips
Happy Accidents – Jane Lynch
God, If You’re Not Up There I’m F*cked – Darrell Hammond
Does The Noise in my Head Bother You – Steven Tyler
Found – Tatum O’Neal
As far as Phillips’ book and story, I found it incredibly inspiring because her bottom was so low she seemed like a “hopeless case” yet she got clean. She is also incredibly brave to share her story of incest given that it is even more taboo than addiction.
Lynch’s story hinged on not fitting in (loneliness as stated in previous comments) even in her own family. She also emphasized the “drinking culture” of her home town. I identified with her story on many levels and found her book engaging and funny.
I loved Hammond’s book for being so honest and funny. He was “highly functioning” but I do not know how. He managed to balance a career on SNL and his addiction. Except he didn’t feel successful at all and wondered all the time when he’d be found out as a fraud. He describes his family of origin as having had a cold and cruel mother and an introverted (PTSD from war) father. Not unlike Phillips’ his story is so raw.
Tyler’s book does too much romanticizing and not enough taking accountability for my taste. I enjoyed reading it but it felt more like a story of how to do drugs and come out the other side. I don’t think he’s been fully honest with himself about the drugs’ impact on his life.
Tatum’s book is a hard read as she’s still so hurt by abandonment by both of her parents. But her life is a triumph, she has come so far. I really felt for her as she was essentially a feral kid as she was unsupervised by her mother who did not even buy groceries, typically. Then her father swooped in and rescued her and put her into movies where they were best friends (enmeshed) until she was 15 and he met Farrah. He moved out and moved in with Farrah and she didn’t see much of her father. He won’t admit that was wrong to this day which I saw on their TV show. It was PAINFUL. (Unless he has come clean in the past few years.) It’s so hard to move on when you don’t get validation but you can’t get caught up on it as it just causes even more hurt.
I definitely especially liked Lynch and Hammond’s books. I find comedians in general to be really honest and the humor makes the pain palatable. I want to also read Guts by Kristin Johnston. Maybe I’ll pick that up.
(Incidentally, there is a new book out called “Beyond Addiction” for family & friends of folks with substance use disorder. I’m reading it and I think it is excellent.)
Suzy, Thanks so much for this annotated bibliography. You’re incredible. I can see I have a lot of reading to do.
Thanks Marc! When I told Bill I was reading these he suggested your book which I was psyched existed. I am curious by nature and wanted to know more about the brain science and so appreciated the inside out point of view that you have. Paired with your professional objectivity, this is invaluable.
I agree with a poster above who mentioned that the books are thin on the recovery story. But I see your point about the story being about the addiction. I think more recovery stories would be helpful. Although they are likely not as interesting and thus not what publishers want.
I’ve read that many it’s difficult to remember them all but here’s a few;
Art Pepper; really honest and gritty account of his lifelong struggle with heroin addiction in the jazz age.
Scar tissue; Antony Keidis from the red hot chili peppers and his struggle with addiction and subsequent recovery. The band actually sacked him at one time
Olivia Laing, trip to echo springs why writers drink; not a memoir but a very good walk through several of the great American writers and their propensity for self destruction by alcohol. She looks at Hemmingway, F Scott Fitzgerald, Tenesee Williams and John Cheever. It’s a great read.
I’ve also found that most of the other stuff I read or music I listen to has been produced by someone with addiction problems
I think you guys may have cobbled together one of the best bibliographies of addiction memoirs ever seen. And many with annotations! We are an exemplary bunch of addicts, I’d say. (including past, present, and future — according to Einstein and his pals, they’re all going on at the same time anyway, just in different places)
Thanks, Peter. And in response to your last sentence, what comes to my mind is Lou Reed, the Velvet Underground. Especially “Heroin,” including…..”it’s my wife…and it’s my life.” Nothing very subtle about that, but that pretty much captures the whole thing.
I would love for someone to check out my blog, twelveonefive.com. I am an alcoholic/addict and have found much closure from writing about my past and airing out old laundry.
I thought that “More, Now, Again” by Elizabeth Wurtzel was one of the best addiction memoirs of all time. I was rather disappointed, however, to read several pieces written by Lizzie in recent months where she pontificates about the virtues of drinking wine. I don’t think it would be good advice to tell an addict that s/he can drink carafe after carafe of wine after giving up the dry goods. Addiction doesn’t work that way.