Customer Reviews

Portrait of an Addict as a Young Man: A Memoir

5 star:		(19)
4 star:		(15)
3 star:		(9)
2 star:		(6)
1 star:		(5)

 

 

Check my other reviews... I don't make a habit of writing negative reviews. But I found this book tedious and incomplete, and the story not very compelling. You've read this book before. Or seen the story on TV. Addict traumatized by broken relationships with his parents in childhood spirals further and further down into the hole of addiction, enabled (beyond belief) by his saintly partner, Noah, who in one scene goes so far as to hold his hand and cry as he has sex with a male hustler. Really? OK....

The majority of the book chronicles the addiction itself, with flashbacks to childhood and some sort of trauma involving an inability to urinate. Really.

We don't ever care that much about the protagonist because there's just not much to like. On 9/11... as the towers are burning... he goes and gets a haircut. OK....

He spirals downward, farther and farther, goes to rehab, spirals back down... Noah's there enabling him...

The end of the book is completely unsatisfying - but I won't spoil it just in case you do decide to read the book. Let's just say the protagonist has some unresolved childhood issues. Looking for redemption? An understanding that the world is larger than the protagonist? You're not going to find it in this book. What you will find is the narcissistic self-absorption that characterizes all addicts. Poor character development abounds - why does Noah put up with all this? Just because he loves him? And why should the reader care about any of this?

95% of the book is detailed descriptions of the protagonist doing drugs. I'd hoped to see a little more self-discovery in this book - perhaps not redemption but at least some self-reflection. But that's clearly way too much to ask.

Suggest you skip the book and check out the TV series "Intervention"....

Perhaps I'm way off base on this review, as others seemed to have liked it, but this book to me was wildly unsatisfying.

After reading about Bill Clegg in the NY Times Style section and then reading the book excerpt in NY Magazine, I bought the Kindle version (high price at $14.99) and devoured this thin volume in a day. The truth is if you read both pieces mentioned, you've pretty much read the book (except for the back-story of his life, which focuses on the author's inability to pee and high school and college days that show an addictive personality at an early age).

The book reads well and moves along quickly(you keep on waiting for a pay-off that doesn't ever seem to come). There doesn't seem to be a lot of depth though. In a way, it's like a celebrity biography ...'and then I did this...' but replaced with ...'and then I took another hit...'

I was hoping for more.

Oddly enough, this book is not a harrowing read like the (fictional) James Frey's book. For an excellent read on addiction and recovery, check out "Liquid Lover" by John Moriarty.

I wish Bill Clegg the best with book and his career and his recovery!

A major drawback of 'Portrait' is that the book relies heavily upon events. This is a common weakness in many memoirs; the author believes you'll find the events interesting in and of themselves. But they aren't. What's missing is the interpretation. Good memoirs include reflection about why these things happened and how they shaped the writer's life. It adds the necessary meaning to the story.
In one chapter Mr Clegg does a ton of crack and then writes "I find three bottles of wine in the kitchen and drink them." And we, as the reader, are to believe he remembers all of this? Tell ya what, why don't you (and by "you", I mean anyone reading this) do a bunch of crack right now, then drink three bottles of wine, let a couple of years go by, then write about the experience. Right. I think you get my drift here.
If you read the free chapter that is offered here on Amazon, then you don't need to read anymore. Trust me on this one. Yawn.

When I asked for advice about how to judge a piece of art, one of my English Lit professors recommended that I ask myself: "Does this (art) succeed in that which it attempts to do?"
After applying this handy advice while considering Bill Glegg's "Portrait of an Addict as a Young Man," I have to say that his memoir is ultimately effective. It may not be ultimately satisfying for the reader (the recollections of childhood struggles with toilet issues are compelling but maddeningly opaque; his recovery is hardly mentioned), but reader satisfaction isn't the point.

What this book does is effectively capture and represent Clegg's nightmare tailspin into crack cocaine addiction and his final weeks-long binge. Assuming that this is what the author intended the book to be about, it is very well done. I can't be 100% positive because I've never used crack myself...but after reading this, I think that I have an idea. It isn't pretty.

Relentless paranoia. Drugs, sex with random people, latenight visits by crack dealers, ignoring and evading the people who care about him, drinking liters of vodka, experiencing drug-induced psychosis, torching his life. Humiliating and degrading himself. And for what? The way that he write it, during this binge, the crack high does not sound fun at all. But Clegg is not using to get high. He is using to stay ahead of the avalanche that is his past and the consequences of his behavior.

Clegg is not a likable narrator. He is not sympathetic (some of his childhood memories made me sad for him, though). Other reviewers have remarked about how self-absorbed and narcissistic he is, and they are correct. Junkies are self-absorbed and narcissistic. They are greedy, destructive, abusive, and incapable of love or trust. In this book, Clegg tells it like it is. I have to hand it to him--he's frank about the bridges he burned, the friends he exploited and terrified, the colleagues he left hanging or abandoned, and the loved ones (especially his long-suffering and somewhat codependent bf/partner) he betrayed. Maybe when he wrote it, he was working on one of those steps (in the 12 steps) that involves making a fearless personal inventory, or recognizing what you've done wrong to others, or whatever step it is...I have no idea, but I'd believe it if I heard it.

And yes, as some of the other reviewers have mentioned, the author comes accross as a spoiled snob with entitlement issues. He's not binging in a crack house, obviously, he's binging in 4-star manhattan hotels. As I read it, his homosexuality was accepted warmly by his social and professional group. He spent more money on this binge than most people make in many months. Readers may find this distasteful. Lord knows that I did, though the feeling was offset somewhat by the knowledge that I did not envy him one tiny bit. For me, what grated the most was his reference to the (hallucinated) FBI/DEA/Police/Govt Agents as "Pennies," as in, J.C. Penny's, as in the agents are dressed in clothing purchased from J.C. Penny's (meaning working/middle class, tackey, low-rent, unfashionable). He sees "Pennies" everywhere. He also mentally sneers at an airplane captain who ejects him off of the plane because he is suspiciously inebriated. Even though he is a degenerate junkie by this point, Clegg contemptuously notes the captain's "hokey" uniform and its inferior tailoring. He's obnoxious.

But he recollection is honest, and his writing is skillful. He can turn a phrase, he is clearly literate and talented. And given the repitition of the material, his descriptions are not repetitive or overly familiar, which is a feat in and of itself.

This is not a story of addiction, from beginning to end, with a character arc. This is a portrait of addiction. If you approach the book with that in mind, I think that you will be quite satisfied with the story.

Let me lead with an original thought that no one I noticed has touched on in case you don't read this whole review- the cover art on this book is so awful. I hate it. I took the dust jacket off because it looked like something that you'd find in a clearance bin at Dollar General. Hated it. I can't explain why - it does not do the story justice. Great title, great read, embarrassing cover. Maybe it is the colors.

I normally don't read books like this, I thought that it would be a good summer book. It was. For 2 days, and then it was over. It is short and it is fascinating. I could not stop reading it. I do not normally read "addiction genre" as people have been naming this. My last book was on the financial legislation of the Third Reich and it's role in WWII. I don't read addiction genre because I can't bear to waste my time on people who throw away a perfectly good life on drugs. And this is what this book is. I do not know how it measures to other books - this was fascinating to me, as a non-crackhead, and gave a creepy glimpse into a world I have no knowledge of. I read an article in Vogue about Clegg's book and ordered it. The article says that he journaled what became this novel while in rehab - while the whole thing was fresh and real - not years later. That might shed some light on how someone remembers details so vividly. Although, of course, with memoir - never 110% accurate. That is okay. It is really well written - Clegg a talented writer and this is a lesson in the narrative and imagery that is well worth it all. Well done. However, like some others, I began to question the whole basis of the story midway through. Drug use is complete self-absorption and this book continues it on. It is... a little whiny. The reader never gets a clear picture of what is really the problem with the author ('distant mother'? what??? did I miss something? When was this woman truly portrayed as distant? Because she didn't address the urination thing?) What was that all about anyway?? I remembered the detail about her having cancer and him not around - who is distant and who isn't? I felt like it was leading somewhere poignant and never arrived. Is there something about that urination thing that I am missing? To include it - and the reaction to it - throughout the book seems to assign blame, yet I wasn't getting it. Not feeling adequate in literary circles in NYC? Boo Hoo. While the Ivy Leaguers and the academic stars were interning and busting their ass, the author was getting high in some part-time job in a convenience store. The thing about the book that is hard to sell is the backstory - not feeling good enough, despite phrases like "Bean tote bag" and "lunching at La Grenouille". Wow. Wow!!!! You were as cultured and well bred as you aspired to be. Son of an airline pilot during the heyday of the industry - nice life in Connecticut - frat boy fun and summers with great works of literature. Sounds pretty nice to me. I know a hundred people worse off than this guy and still - no crack. So, thanks for the trip through the gutter with you - it was, well, really interesting and disturbing - but fizzled a little at the end. I was waiting for the moment when it all fit into place - When I really thought 'what a shame - it's no wonder' - but instead I came away with thinking how people are so weak and blameful and have no merit.

And then I threw the ugly dust jacket in the trash.

Mr. Clegg has written a book, or so it seems, that is at times unreadable. He is a self absorbed, self important snob of the worst kind. I sincerely appreciate the difficulty and anguish of his addiction. I am pleased that he was able to overcome all of those obstacles. However, he manifested the experience in such a pretentious and imperious manner. I wish I could get my money back.

Seriously, I can't remember what I ate for breakfast and this guy remembers two months worth of being on a crack bender????? I don't think so. Granted you can have some sort of essence of what took place...but details? If this is true (his truth vs. others) then James Frey should not have been made a laughing stock.

Also isn't it interesting that Clegg being a literary agent may have had some connections with getting his book published, no matter how "embellished".

Also, how different this would be if he did not have 70K in the bank and he had to keep his addiction by robbing or selling things.

Something smells fishy with this tale!

I had heard some wonderful things about this book and, of course, because I am a fan of addiction/recovery books I was really looking forward to reading this one.

Unfortunately, for some reason this book just did not touch me all that much.

Although, of course, I admire the author for being brave enough to write his story, somehow the whole story felt "staged somehow". While the author explains his childhood - interlaced with present day actions that are clearly self-destructive - I struggled to really find the addict in him. It felt more as though the author was using his childhood as a reason to do what he did - instead of what, in my opinion, is a true addict's actions - i.e. being compelled to "use" in order to numb their feelings. Somehow, the author was doing it backwards and I kind of did not buy the whole premise of the book.

I was, in the end, disappointed with this whole book.

I'm beginning to think that there is an Addiction genre now, or soon will be. Anyhow, this book would certainly fall into that genre but is not on par with others that immediately come to mind: Kaylie Jones "Lies My Mother Never Told Me", or John Moriarty's "Liquid Lover". Those two, for example, are beautifully written and thrilling examples of this addiction genre. Unfortunately Mr Clegg's book is tedious, and there is nothing to reward the reading for suffering through 240 pages (which reminds me; this book is overpriced). This book is proof-positive that it's all in WHO you know, not what you know. Honestly, don't waste your time...

Bill's portrayal of an addict was brutally honest. I felt I could relate to what he was going through. His account wasn't sugar coated. Definately not a feel good book, however he left the reader with some hope for his addiction. Purchased it for a friend of mine who is an addict and had recently relapsed. He said he could relate to it in more ways than I know. (Actually I did know, thats why I bought it for him).
A very well written book for the addict and non addict alike. A bit on the graphic side, but I believe for some addicts it can be much worse than the book portrays.
I highly recommend this book!