Tag Archives: Addiction

Long Dark River

Liz Moore’s Long Dark River starts out with such promise. It opens with a captivating premise and mystery. Two sisters (Mickey and Kasey) – one a police officer and one an opioid addict working and living the same streets. Kasey goes missing, there is a serial killer on the loose, and Mickey tries to find Kasey to keep her safe (or at least that’s what we think at the start).

And this plot carries us for the first half of the book and it is wrenching to hold the two parallel lives at once in our minds (what when wrong? how did the sisters end up estranged?). At some points Mickey forces the question of what did Kasey do wrong to end up living the life she is living and not the moral one that Mickey does – and I find this point irritating, for nothing about addiction suggests choice and in the framing of the question there is (at least at first) the idea that there is some kind of moral failing on Kasey’s part. Later in the book this question is – really far too patly and again with some kind of pinning of individual blame – explained in that their mother was in the throws of her own addiction when she was pregnant with Kasey, and so Kasey was born addicted herself. The whole thing makes it as though opioid addiction is an individual failing made by individual choice. And if there’s one thing we took from the utterly brilliant Demon Copperhead it is that this mess is not the fault of the individual user.

I digress. So halfway through when some of the questions about Kasey are resolved, the book turns – instead of to a conclusion that might be complex and nuanced about the sisters and their relationship (which is, I think, what the book is best about) to instead solving the murder mystery element. Like we care who the serial killer is? I guess we’re supposed to care who the serial killer is. And so we have to work our way through the plot structure of a Law and Order episode to chase some red herrings and eventually find the killer. It was all just so bizarrely beside the point to (what this reader saw as) the heart of the story: the relationship between Kasey and Mickey.

So I’m not sure I’d recommend it. I mean I did recommend it to a bunch of people (sorry M.) when I first started reading it because I was so taken with the family dynamic and some of the writing is Not Bad. But by the end I was sort of embarrassed to have suggested it because it becomes some other kind of book. Maybe if you go into it expecting that turn you’ll enjoy it the whole way through. You let me know.

Leave a comment

Filed under Bestseller, Fiction, Mystery

In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Read it. Now.

        E. suggested I read “In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts” as part of my introduction to Vancouver, and gosh but was he right in recommending it.

The book’s author, Gregor Mate, is a doctor who works in Vancouver’s notorious downtown eastside – a neighbourhood known for being a drug zone. Mate uses interviews and character sketches of his patients as the individual grounding for his discussion of the causes and outcomes of addiction, as well as the detrimental drug policies that currently govern drug addicts’ behaviour. The chapters vary among first person reflections on his own addicted behaviour, reflections on the life experiences of his patients, accessible descriptions of brain science and development and exhortations for evidence based addictions/drug policies.

The book is, simply put, brilliant. Mate methodically lays out his argument all the while drawing in personal narratives that make the science not only accessible but entirely compelling. The reader cares about addictions science and drug laws because we are made to know the addicts – ourselves! – as people. The demand that we reserve judgement because we too, find ourselves in addicted patterns, or because we begin to understand the lack-of-choice inherent in addicts’ actions, persuasively asks us to reconsider our long held judgements about those addicted to X or Z.

I’m anxious for someone I know to read the book, too, so that I might discuss the ending – a suggestion that the ‘cure’ for addicted behaviour might be meditation and mindfulness – and the overarching premise of the book that addiction isn’t so much a choice as a set of circumstances thrust upon that must be chosen against, refused, rather than actively sought. My local library is hosting a book club night on the book, and I’m eager to go and hear what others in my community thought of the book, but I’d really (really) like for you to read it, too, and let me know your thoughts.

Given how much I’m struggling to sort out how to reconcile the gross inequality I’ve been encountering in Vancouver, and given my own (relative) addictions, the book has been incredible in provoking thought, challenging assumptions, and arguing for a kind of generosity to the self and to others that is otherwise unspoken.

Leave a comment

Filed under Erin's Favourite Books, Prize Winner