Customer Reviews

The Last Opium Den

5 star:		(6)
4 star:		(6)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(3)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

I read this when it was published in Vanity Fair a few years ago. Just a few paragraphs into it I realized I was reading a writer of incredible talent and importance. I've since bought a couple of his other books which I'm looking forward to reading, but I can't imagine that they maintain the same intensity and intelligence which this work has. I hope I'm wrong as this guy delivers a high which you don't find just anywhere, and I want to experience it again.

His style has a cat-like present-tense to it throughout. Edgy. Dangerous and in danger. You find yourself as curious about the author as you are about the journey he describes. I see some Hunter S. Thompson similarities, not because of the opium theme of this work, but because of the non-stop riskiness of the entire proposition. This is a new level of erudite gonzo journalism; focused, disciplined, researched, no-holds-barred. Toshes' mind is in some extreme place, at times beautiful, at times ugly, always interesting.

When I read this I actually felt a sense of sadness as Tosches personifies in my view the absolutely perfect writer. If I were a writer, this is the way I would want to write. Envy reared its ugly head in my benevolent heart!

I'm currently reading "Following the Equator" by Mark Twain and it is filled with charming informal anecdotes and vast discoursive rambling by that great master. I keep saying to myself that Twain would find his equal in Tosches, both being intellectual virtuosos of the highest order. They digress similarly: verbal jam sessions to the outer edge of the collective experience.

Read this book if you are interested in opium, or the history thereof. More importantly, read this book if you want to read a great writer weave a spell. A writer of this magnitude doesn't come along very often, and unless you are on the prudish side you will be totally and royally blown away. If you are on the prudish side, push past it and absorb this writer who perfectly conveys in-the-moment perspective. It was a new literary experience for me and it might be for you as well.

Warning: Contains Spoiler

I was hooked from the first sentence: "You see, I needed to go to hell." I felt like some people when they see a bad car wreck; you know you're going to see something ugly, but you look anyway. Could anything be worse than "You see, I needed to go to hell?" YES! And it was the very next sentence: "I was, you might say, homesick." It gushed with pretense. I cringed with embarrassment for the writer, yet I kept reading.

The sentences kept coming like ammunition from an assault weapon: "I was born to smoke opium." Tosches must have liked that sentence himself because he repeated three times on one page. And it was a small page because, you see, this isn't really a book, it's a short story with a hard cover. And Tosches isn't just born to smoke opium. He explains he was born to smoke it in "dark, brocade-curtained, velvet cushioned places of luxurious decadence...(among) lovely loosening limbs draped from the high-slit cheongsams of recumbent exotic concubines of sweet intoxication." Such flowery prose. It flows as if it's direct from the pen of a teenage dandy writing down his fantasy for a wet dream.

Midway through the book Tosches arrives in Bangkok. In his search for opium he finds himself surrounded by three young (perhaps, underage) sex workers. One of the girls is stroking his crotch, another masturbates while wagging her tongue and the third is having her nipple squeezed between the old writer's thumb and forefinger. Eventually he becomes "bored with Nana" (I have to assume he is referring the prostitute in Zola's Rougon-Macquart series.) It seems important (and quite distracting) for Tosches to let his reader know that he is aware of many things. He makes sure to mention Jean Cocteau, Milton Freidman and Emanuel Kant all in one tiny story. Nonetheless, I keep reading. I feel the guilty pleasure of a teenage girl reading a Jacqueline Suzanne novel. It's so bad, it's good. It's so very bad.

But let me be kind, if you like Hunter S. Thompson, you might like Tosches, just as if you like Faulkner you might enjoy reading writings from the Faux Faulkner contests. Dr. Thompson is an excellent journalist and takes you on the ride with him. You're there among the Hell's Angels or in the Las Vegas heat with a crazy lawyer. Tosches is more like tour guide who sits a little too close to you and constantly taps you on the shoulder with a Hey-did-I-mention-I'm-one-jaded-bastard? Hey, did you know I'm a smart guy? Listen, listen, I can analyze a subject like it's under a Bunsen burner and I heat it up until it becomes a vapor and all but evaporates.

Anyway, here's the spoiler: Tosches never finds the opium den of his dreams, but he does find the dark sticky ball and the proper pipe to smoke it with. Perhaps he was born to smoke opium for medicinal reasons. He tells us in the beginning of the story that he's diabetic and it was brought to his attention opium was once considered to be effective in the treatment of diabetes.

Tosches is not a brave man. He covers his bases. He must have learned something from Jim Hogshire. He made sure his experimentation wasn't done on U.S. soil and he names no names, no roads.

Tosches ends his story with "The lamp is lit, the pipe is tilted. I am home." My last thought was, why didn't he stay there?

Before proceeding, I must note that this "book" is in fact a reprint of an article originally published in the September 2000 issue of Vanity Fair. So, while is a cute and well-designed wee book (it takes a little under an hour to read), those looking to save themselves the cost of a movie ticket and large drink are advised to consult their local library. That said, it is an amusing and exotic travelogue recounting Tosches' quest to locate a real-life operational opium den and sample its wares. While he makes a modest attempt to justify his journey on medical grounds (it is reputed to aid diabetics), he freely admits his enchantment with the orientalist vision of sumptuous opium dens with loose-limbed ladies. Thus, he travels from New York, to San Francisco, to Hong Kong, to Bangkok, to Phnom Penh, to Paris, and finally to a secret location in "Indochina" where he fulfills his quest. (It should be noted that he could have written an equally interesting essay by going to places like Afghanistan and Iran, where opium has a rich historical tradition.)

From the very beginning-a witty dissection of a ... onion dish at a trendy New York restaurant-Tosches' writing is sharp and engaging. His descriptive talents are topnotch, whether describing the various foods he encounters (and there's a lot), the Thai sex shows he's watching, or the actual smell and texture of opium. He's also good at explaining the economics that led to opium's demise (opium derivatives such as heroin and morphine are easier and cheaper to make, and thus deliver higher profit margins to drug dealers). It's an engaging little essay, but it's hard to imagine why anyone would purchase it in book form.

One curious note is that while he mentions earlier writers on opium, such as Thomas de Quincy's 19th-century memoir Confessions of an English Opium Eater , Mark Merlin's On the Trail of the Ancient Opium Poppy, Edward Brecher's monumental 1972 study, Licit and Illicit Drugs, and even extolls The Big Smoke: The Chinese Art and Craft of Opium, which is unavailable in America, he fails to mention Barbara Hodgson's recent coffee-table book, Opium: A Portrait of the Heavenly Demon. It's also odd that he fails to mention fiction's most famous opium addict, Sherlock Holmes.

an intriguing, elegantly written journey created by a highly unique mind. It could have been done as a lower-priced paper back, but no worries. This author always pleases with his work.

This is one of the most honest books I've ever read. It simply describes a man sick of the way life and society is unfolding around him and goes on a search to find himself and something he belives will change his life.

This is an essay disguised as a little book and a very finely written essay at that, a meditation on the quest for opium. Tosches' conceit is that he suffers from diabetes and that the opium is his only cure. But his real mission is to discover in opium life's most ethereal and sublime pleasures. He contrasts the higher pleasures with those phony snobs who, fond of detecting black licorice and bell pepper in their expensive wines, repel Tosche so much with their philistinism that he goes on an exotic quest for not just elusive opium dens but the faraway pleasures of the senses. In many ways Tosches' sensibility reminds me of the TV and writing persona of gourmet gadfly chef Antony Bourdain who disdains popular culture attractions and always looks for food in the dark margins of the far reaches of the world. Bourdain fans will like Tosches and vice versa.

I, too, read Nick Tosches' article in Vanity Fair. Since I am "from the Sixties," as James Earl Jones says in "Field of Dreams," I was part of the natural audience for a story like this.

When I looked up the book in Amazon, I bought it quickly, figuring all along that it would be an expansion of the magazine article. 'fraid not. It's just a $10 version (Kindle) of the article I read for nothing at Vanity Fair's website.

I should never assume anything when it has to do with writers. I should know. I are one, tho nowhere near as compelling as Tosches can be.

I really wish he HAD written a longer book. I was along for the ride, wherever it went. He recommends a more comprehensive book on the subject. I imagine I'll see if I can find it, tho Tosches says it's not for sale in the USA.

Just a warning: This is a short ride. Intense, but very brief.

This short Novella is essentially a travel essay. I found it to be interesting and perhaps a bit indulgent. Overall a good quick read.

very short, sly-as-s**t essay about author's attempt to find a true-blue dive of an opium den. The bad news: it's not in new york city. The good news: he succeeds, albeit in southeast asia. the writing, as his always is, no matter what he's writing about, will charm the pants off you and your significant other.

Excellent essay! Tosches is verbally endowed and puts his skills to work with this tale of finding the elusive pure form that countless drugs are now derivitives of. The original magazine article is reprinted here thankfully, in a more worthy setting for such a nice piece of work. Pondering the length of this, I feel that Tosches receives bonus points for brevity's sake in not feeling compelled to add filler and detract from the greatness here. I have a feeling that this won't be in print forever. I encourage you to get your copy now.