[115] Books Reviewed
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Showing posts with label addiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label addiction. Show all posts

Friday, October 29, 2010

Beauty Queen by Linda Glovach

() This is similar in style to Go Ask Alice, edited by Beatrice Sparks. A girl of 19 moves away from her alcoholic mother, gets a job as a topless dancer, and become addicted to heroin. Which she dies at the hands of, as well. There is also a story of a failed romance, which sparks the ending overdose.

The story was easy to read and was written like a journal. From the quote printed on the back cover, it sounds like the author was once a heroin addict herself. Though this was obviously not her story. I finished the whole thing within 3 hours or so.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Wasted: A Memoir by Mark Johnson

() From being brought up in the ghetto to rape, murder, addiction, homelessness, and growth/recovery - this story covers it all. Pretty hard to believe this is a real account of someone's life. But sometimes truth really is stranger than fiction.

Mark Johnson was exposed to horrendous environments at a very young age. He started drug and alcohol use when he was just a child. He was also sexually assaulted and passed on the deed. Abused and confused, he created a tough persona which made him prone to addiction and crime. The reader is taken through Johnson's youth, jail time, drug struggles, and the peril of living on the streets.

But finally, with too many near-death experiences and threats on his life, he makes a longer-lasting attempt at change. Eventually, he is successfully rehabilitated. Unlike so many other addicts and ex-offenders, he is able to rebuild his life with the help of various people and organizations surrounding him. He starts his own business and tries to help others who are making an effort to improve their lives as well.

"Vanessa's soon saying she loves me. That's a license to treat her like shit. But I retreat into her arms whenever the mayhem I've caused gets too much even for me." (pg. 90)
"In jail we've learned to live on our wits, manipulate people and use violence and retaliation as a routine means of survival. And I have the Block to thank for making me an expert in brutality. What a great training ground Portland was for a life of crime: it's much easier now to do these things and not feel a qualm." (pg. 109)
"after a day and a night the party is so magical that I hate it. I wish the experience away because I know that it is going to change my life and not just change it but ruin it. And I know that this is my destiny and I have no choice." (pg. 127)
"I don't want to be this way. I hated myself for stealing from Kelly but I couldn't stop myself. Drugs have stripped away my flesh. Anything that's good and everything I've ever learned about how to behave is being lost, along with my humanity. What's left behind is hard and primitive and cares only for its own survival." (pg. 180)
"It hits me with a series of terrible photos of all I've said and done. It's like the biggest, worst hangover because I wasn't just drunk last night. I've been drunk my whole life." (pg. 261)
"I mean you've got to tell your secrets. Real secrets. All the small embarrassing things you've never told anyone, the sneaky things, the spiteful things, the grassing-up-your-mates keep-it-to-yourself kind of things that you swore you'd never tell a soul. [...] Talking about your weaknesses gives you back your power." (pg. 287)

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Fat Girl by Judith Moore

() Whether or not you have ever struggled with the role that food and weight play in your life, there is no one that hasn't experienced loneliness. Judith Moore does a fabulous job of examining her childhood and her string of unhealthy behaviors - not just eating.

A lot of her actions seem relative to a need for specific forms of love she never received. For example, she always seemed to fall for guys that were unavailable or not good for her, which she blamed partially on having an absent father. But it is also more complicated than that, and Moore captures this too. "Would love have done me any good? Love, I think, would not have made me thin." (pg. 195) "I was hungry for love. I know that. But so are many sad hungry children and they don't rummage people's living quarters and eat their food." (pg. 174)

This book shatters the simple "lazy" and "gluttonous" stigma that fat people are often labeled with. Furthermore, each chapter begins with an insightful, outside quote that brings light to the following section. It was another deeply honest read that I couldn't stop once I started.

"I worried that because of my father's blood I might have been born bad. Underneath the yellow fat made from so many gravies and cherry pies and apple crisps under thick cream, so much toast buttered and jellied, so many deep sunset-yellow egg yolks, I imagined that the bad Tootsie Roll Pop filling of me seethed and simmered." (pg. 84)
"I still liked the three little pigs. [...] Brick was what I built my house with, I thought, and now I see the building materials were the yellow fat bricks. [...] The clean pink picture-book pigs were nothing like real pigs that grunted in their pen on my grandmother's farm. I dwelt on the difference [...] Rather than the squinting eyes from which real pigs looked out at you meanly, book pigs had wide blue Shirley Temple eyes. Real pigs, if you fell down in their pen and no one was around, would eat you alive." (pg. 87)
"I built walls of fat, and I lived inside. When those boys said fatso, fatso at me what they said almost, but not quite, bounced off my fat walls. When my mother [...] took out the belt [...] The belt didn't cut as hard as it might if I were skinny. But if I were skinny would she have hated me so much?" (pg 98)
"The story of being a fat child, the story about wanting more than my mother had to give and wanting my father to rescue me might as well have been hammered together with a million nails." (pg. 111)
"I began to chew my fingernails. I turned into a voracious eater whose meal was herself. I ripped and I tore at the flesh around my child nails; I licked, delicately and hungrily, at the blood that popped up in bright droplets at my chubby fingers' ends. I ate myself raw. [...] I was not delicious. [...]I was eating myself, I see now, alive." (pg. 123 - 124)
"I did not want to be a woman. I did not want to be a man. I considered myself more animal than human, more rock than animal. I was a heavy piece of dull rock that bled onto itself every month. The rock feels nothing. No matter what you do to it [...] the rock does not care. The rock does not hear you. The rock does not feel you. The rock sees you dimly and not well. You cannot murder the rock." (pg. 181)
"Other girls were fatter than I was; they were slow and bovine and looked half asleep. I didn't care that they were fatter than me; what broke my heart was that I was fat, fat, fat." (pg. 184)
All books reviewed can be obtained at the
Santa Clara County Library
Many of these reviews can also be found at Amazon.com