Customer Reviews

More, Now, Again: A Memoir of Addiction

5 star:		(28)
4 star:		(11)
3 star:		(8)
2 star:		(4)
1 star:		(13)

 

 

What prompted me to write a review for this book was how much I love it, and how many bad reviews its gotten. People say Wurtzel is selfish, narcissistic, self-centered, and completely focused only on herself and her own life. YES folks, it's a memoir about HER life and HER drug addiction. What people don't understand is that depression and addiction are two VERY self-centering things. Depression is, in its nature, the inability to get out of onesself in order to exist in the world. I am, like Wurtzel, an only child. I was also an addict and I also suffered from depression. I think you need to really understand what it is like to endure these things before you can truly comprehend that she is not a bratty woman, still looking for her mommy and daddy's affections -- as critics will have you believe -- she was suffering, and she bleeds her heart open to you, the reader, in ALL her books. She spares nothing, she embarasses herself, humiliates herself, she is not saying I am Elizabeth Wurtzel and I have no flaws, I am perfect. She is saying, I am Elizabeth Wurtzel and THESE are my flaws, THESE are my imperfections, perhaps you can learn from them. It's a MEMOIR folks, it's ALL gonna be about HER life and HER gripes, and HER suffering. That's not narcissism. That's honesty.

It's funny, but every Elizabeth Wurtzel review I've read (including reviews on Prozac Nation the film) is one extreme or the other. The people who trash her work always whine about the same things: it's self-absorbed, she's a brat, omg my friend's-brother's-nephew's-playmate's-mother's-hairdresser went through like WAY WORSE STUFF THAN HER!!!111

Look, folks, this a writer whose first novel was her memoirs about depression. Depressed people and addicts are not pleasant to be around. They're frustrating, demanding, unreliable, irritating and they make you want to scream at them to make them "normal". That seems to be the biggest problem that people have with her books - she doesn't sugarcoat anything and she doesn't try to make depression or addiction look glamourous. If this doesn't sound like something that will interest you, don't even bother reading it, because I can guarantee that you'll hate it.

Wurtzel's second memoir is account of her fall into Ritalin addiction (crushing and snorting the pills) and then cocaine addiction, all while writing her bestseller Bitch: In Praise of Difficult Women. She isolated herself in Florida, obsessively writing and re-writing drafts of her book. She freely admitted her addition and planned to get clean "as soon as the book was done." She convinced friends and family to look the other way as she used drug in front of them. At one low point before her first stint in rehab, she was essentially living at the NY Doubleday offices, disheveled, attempting to edit her book, and having cocaine delivered to the lobby by courier service. It was amazing what a large scale she got codependency to work for her.

Wurtzel enters rehab, lives in a halfway house, relapses, and tries alternate forms of treatment on the long road to sobriety. At one point, she finally gets a therapist who pushes her beyond her eloquent speech and word play. Wurtzel has to come to terms with her "terminal uniqueness," which a lot of addicts suffer. Wurtzel really *is* special, talented, and respected worldwide, but when it comes to her addiction, she's no different from anyone else. She also learns that there are no reasons why an addict uses, that addicts use because they are addicts, and any reason for using can be invented. She plays games, comparing heroin and cocaine and deciding her cocaine addiction is "better" because it is of the mind, not of the body like heroin. She comforts herself because you can't OD on Ritalin and cocaine like you can on other drugs.

After Prozac Nation and over the years, many readers have commented that Wurtzel is a whiny narrator. She is indeed. Depressed people are whiny and inherently unlikable, and it comes across in the narrative. Depressed drug-addicted people? Even more self-absorbed and irritating to be around. The strength of Wurtzel's book(s) is that she places the reader directly in that whiny, self-absorbed place. She lets us in to her insane mind games justifying her addition. Anyone recovering from addiction or dealing with an addict will see recognizable elements here.

My recommended reading order for newbies to Elizabeth Wurtzel is (1) Prozac Nation (ground-breaking work with a personal portrait of depression before the days of safe anti-depressants), (2) More, Now, Again (watch that person from Prozac Nation fall again and again into drug addiction), and (3) Bitch (read the book she wrote when she was high on Ritalin and cocaine, the book the obsessively re-edited in drug-addicted isolation).

Firstly, I do have to agree that Elizabeth Wurtzel comes off as very self absorbed, and in Prozac Nation, almost whiny. However, I can't help but feel thats the nature of the beast.

Mental Illness often creates an enormity of self absorbion, I speak from experience. From what I've read of my own issues, and from reading her books, I do wonder if she has depression on its own, or has a personality disorder on top of things. Narcisistic PD, or Borderline PD? I'm no expert, but there were bits in More, Now, Again that suggest symptoms of either.

Drug abuse can also create a great deal of self obsession; junkie logic is a law unto itself, and as a junkie, you do become a me me me more drugs person.

I found Prozac Nation interesting, as it showed the full ugliness of depression, and how it affects those around you. Yes it was whiny, but thats what depressives can be like.

As for More, Now, Again... It made me realise I had a problem with drugs, and I had to go do something about it. And it, like Prozac Nation, was whiny and self absorbed, but yet again I know many junkies, and that is what they're like.

I think that although there is whinging and whining, and self absorbion throughout BOTH her "memoirs", I (and I'm not an optimist) believe that she is writing the ugly truth, without sugar coating. Depressives and drug users are notorious for being self absorbed, and she is no exception. I like the fact she gets into the nitty gritty, and doesn't hide the worst of her behaviour from the reader.

I don't get it.

I don't like Elizabeth Wurtzel. I don't think she's a very good writer; her prose is sloppy, her metaphors are mixed (if they make any sense at all), and there's really never much of a point to what she writes. She certainly doesn't sound like a very good person, either. She's a narcissist of the highest order, so completely convinced of her own brilliance & importance that she's managed to pen (and publish) TWO biographies in the space of twelve years; she's shallow; and she's a neurotic drug addict who sleeps with married men.

But, still, I bought "More, Now, Again," well aware of all her shortcomings.

Elizabeth Wurtzel has charisma. It's because of her charisma--her annoying yet compelling presence--that gives her hoardes of teenage fans, and literary critics that can't seem to get enough of slagging her. Maybe her charisma is the result of being gorgeous. People like to see pretty people in pain; it's much easier to sympathize with someone who is easy on the eyes than someone who is not. You can't find an article or fansite for Ms. Wurtzel that isn't loaded with pictures, and she's appeared on every single one of her book covers, pouting in a highly stylized Hollywood way.

Whether "More, Now, Again" is a good book isn't really important--it's just an excuse to vicariously live her charmed existence (New York City lofts, condos in Florida, loads of friend and supporters, enough money to support a cocaine habit, designer bags & shoes & clothes, etc.) For the record, "More, Now, Again" is good in the beginning, and loses steam when Wurtzel goes into treatment. Her huge ego starts to take over. She tries to seduce men in rehab, boo-hoos over her weight gain, talks endlessly (in quotation marks--other people supposedly say these things) about how wonderful a writer she is, how smart she is, blah blah blah. It's hard to feel sorry for her, but it's easy to pulled in by her.

Actually, she inadvertantly touches upon an actual Issue of Addiction. She's completely self-absorbed, and believes herself superior to nearly everyone. Those other idiots ended up in rehab because they're pathetic. She ended up in rehab because she was IN PAIN and TROUBLED and NEEDED AN OUTLET. Typical addict behavior. She means to make the audience sympathize with her, but instead she ends up taking you into the mind of an addict. An average addict, no different from the rest.

She just happens to have a deal with a major publishing company and a stylist.

I couldn't put this one down. I randomly came across it in the library, and having heard that her first book "Prozac Nation" was a big hit, I was looking forward to finally reading some of her work. By virtue of being a memoir, the book is extremely self-involved, but hey, I'm self-involved, too. I was pretty much blown away. She has the unique ability to make people feel understood by reading about her own experience. She describes my world better than I ever could.

"This is how you become an addict. You have no inner resources, you drive people crazy with all your neediness, years go by, you don't grow up, people lose patience, and all that's left is whatever gets you through. Lots of people will go out on a binge if they get fired or if their girlfriend leaves, but not me. That stuff, I can handle. For me, it's the broken shoelaces that have got me hooked. It's the stuff that most people can handle that makes addicts get high. We get high over nothing.

I am an addict and I like it, try and stop me.

It's nice to cry over something or somebody who isn't me. Or aren't all our tears really for ourselves anyway? When we cry with joy at weddings, aren't we really sad that such happiness belongs to someone else? All our emotions, even the generous ones, even empathy, are really just a way of bringing the woes of the world closer to home. It's all one big opportunity to feel, to feel more.

Of course, everyone here thinks they have something in common, we are all addicts, and we are all the same. But that doesn't work with me. The desire to be seen as superior and singular -- and, conversely but similarly, inferior and individual -- is a big topic in AA and NA and addiction recovery of all sorts. They even have a term for the syndrome -- it is called terminal uniqueness. We refuse to be a part of the crowd, to walk in the middle of the road in the safety of others. We all think we're special. Of course, I know that all addicts think that. Whatever they've got to show for themselves, they all believe in some way that they are unique -- they think their emotions are special, their inner life is one of a kind. And if they have not achieved much, they believe they are hampered by addiction. Everyone I have ever met at an AA or NA meeting is a genius, despite the evidence or lack thereof. Everyone has artistic talent that was discouraged by their mean, misunderstanding parents. Everyone is misunderstood.

But by the time I empty out my boxes of belongings into my bureau and shelves in the Cottage, the thrill is gone. I am, at heart, still an addict, and for people like us, the thrill is always gone. It's leaving before it has even arrived. Every time my dealer dropped off my fix of cocaine, I was already trying to figure out when he would bring more -- and this was before I'd even gotten started on what was there. And pretty soon it becomes a way of life: there are no moments of joy, because you are always anticipating when the next possible moments of joy might arrive. As soon as tomorrow? As late as next year? Maybe in a week or two? Not that it matters, because you would not enjoy that joy either, you'd be too busy wondering where the next fix of fun would come from. Addiction is, in essence, an inability to live in the moment."

Probably not recommended for people who don't suffer like Elizabeth Wurtzel has. Only then can you appreciate a story like hers.

I became a "fan" of Wurtzel's, as did many others, after "Prozac Nation" was published. I dutifully read "B*tch", following the twists and turns of her Ritalin-addled brain. I avoided "More, Now, Again" when it was released because I just had a feeling that it would be bad.....After reading the book last night (yes,....it is a one-nighter) I realized what this feeling stems from. No longer a college freshman with romantic ideas about depression and substance abuse, I have simply outgrown Wurtzel. The book is interesting in that we see how she lives while writing "B*tch," which explains a lot about that particular book. As with "Prozac Nation", I love the way she begins each section with a snippet of song or poetry (and the Gordon Gano that begins the tale is right on the mark.) In the end, Wurtzel is like a smart but self-destructive ex-boyfriend: She likes great music (I love the way she writes about Bob Dylan), can talk about good books and makes you feel a little better about your own life but the relationship is just not very much fun.

I have read several books on addiction - being a recovering person myself, I find the subject personally valuable. Elizabeth Wurtzel's book is an insightful, gritty, often poignant account of her personal struggle with addiction and self-acceptance. I have always found her writing to be gratifying, but this BOOK! Unblemished! With all the press Frey's book "A Million Little Pieces" is getting, I am shocked that "More, Now, Again" has not been mentioned as a superior read on the topic. While Frey's book reads like a novel, Elizabeth's book allows the reader a peek inside her heart and soul. I appreciate this book on many levels. It is both a sensitive and intuitive perspective of addiction and an enormously compelling page turner. A Must-Read for all those who enjoyed Frey's "memoir" and anyone interested in addiction and overcoming an injured self-concept.

I actually found this in the garage of a house I had just moved into and remembered liking her " Prozac Nation". I was mortified that she so unashamedly promotes herself as a sex pot on her covers (i think it distracts from the seriousness of her subjects) but I started to read the first page and I was hooked.
She IS unlikeable, most addicts are and no one is more aware of this than she is. But she is so incredibly bright and her references to literature and music are so stimulating that I was enthralled. Sometimes when you read addicts stories the mere fact that they have lived to tell is fascinating enough but this book walks you through every relapse, every nightmare episode and it is exhausting. But, it also makes you desperately want her to beat the odds because you now feel involved.
For the majority of the story she is unlikable, incredibly selfish and insensitive but her intelligence and gift for writing ulitmately won me over.
Riviting, difficult and challenging with the most moving last two paragraphs I have ever read.

I just started reading this and I am already so annoyed that I have to write my review right now.

The fact that she can't even wait two whole pages to tell us about how much she uses every day (which she obviously thinks is a big-bad amount that we should all be very impressed and appalled by) shows what a big old phoney-a$$ "yeah, i know I'm so bad, arent i?", pseudo-addict she really is. because guess what? real addicts find nothing remotely mention-worthy about that type of thing.

Wow! FORTY PILLS a day! Oooh, you BAD GIRL. 400mg a day, woooooow, that is just so over the top that I can't even think of a comparison! thats like....its like...Wait--that's like--A TYPICAL AMOUNT FOR AN ABUSER OF RITALIN TO USE! Soooo impressed by your super-awesome, wild and crazy drug tolerance, how bad-a$$!How hardcore you are, girl.

The fact that she presents this to us like she is pulling it out of her backpack for show and tell, like we better prepare to be amazed and appalled, shows just how much of a poser she is. She might as well go into a bar full of lifelong alcoholics and say "Attention please...I, elizabeth...Have just consumed.....FOUR SHOTS OF RUM in the past 30 minutes!" (now bask in everybody's horror at your horrible habit and extreme tolerance). When you do stuff like that everyday, when you have a serious drug habit, you dont NEED to talk about that type of thing. Its a given. Its as remarkable as telling people you took a shower today. The only reason you would talk about something like that is if you don't do it a whole lot, otherwise it wouldnt even be worth bringing up. so what does that tell us about her? It's pretty revealing about how "bad" her "addiction" truly was/is if she sees it as something that even deserves mention at all let alone something that will make us all ooh and aah in voyeuristic shock-delight.

Real addicts have heard it all. They have used crazy amounts of drugs, seen crazy amounts of drugs used, over and over, every day, all the time. They dont hear a dose and think "HOLY SHEET, Oh my god, that is the WORST ADDICT EVER!" When they hear someone talk like she does here it just makes most of them sigh and smirk. They have all probably done that dose at one point, or if they havent, they had other addict friends who did. She obviously craves the "oh my god! you are so totally bad!" reaction, but she aint gonna get it from the people who have gone through actual serious addictions. We know that bragging about how bad you are is for the fakers, posers, addict wannabes, and "just dipping my toe into the pool of addiction and jumping out when i realize how cold it is" fools who then come back telling the world their "war stories from the trenches of addiction" while the real veterans sit back rolling their eyes and laughing at the stupidity.