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errski's review against another edition
5.0
This memoir was amazing, well written and insightful. It is so easy to lose yourself in something like an addiction, or just something that makes it easy to stay in place. Caroline Knapp's story is an inspiration to go out and do the scary and difficult things in life, to take charge and make changes even though it will be easier to drown your pain in a bottle. This goes for drinking or any other addiction or simple thing that will distract you from the difficult paths to take in life. One quote I pulled from this book (because there are many) is "Passivity is corrosive to the soul; it feeds on feelings of integrity and pride, and it can be as temping as a drug." I believe that this is an incredibly powerful statement and reason to live your life. Furthermore, the way the book is outlined provides amazing storytelling, Knapp adds a little more story to each chapter. It isn't particularly sequential and the way the book introduces you to people and continues giving more information about any additional person until the end is engaging and allows Knapp to compare her own life and personal stories to others she had met. Really a great read, and I'm incredibly sad to have learned that the author has since passed away from cancer.
juliannasiegrist's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
medium-paced
3.75
todougherty's review against another edition
emotional
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
4.25
lucyismyname's review against another edition
5.0
Hands down the best book I've read in 2020. Knapp's tight and eloquent prose made an addiction that is foreign to me remarkably relatable.
kimberlyf's review against another edition
5.0
This book pains me so deeply emotionally because I see so much of myself within these pages. Imagine me, sitting on my couch reading this book, constantly flipping back to the front cover to confirm it wasn’t me who wrote it.
“Alcoholism, after all, is a progressive illness; it sneaks up on you so subtly, so insidiously, that you honestly don’t know you’re falling into its grip until long after the fact.“
I can relate to drinking in response to every emotion. I can relate to making promises and really trying to stick with them. I can relate to rationalizing just one more. I’ll deal with it tomorrow. I can relate to losing all of the skin on my knee in a drunken fit (and I still have the patchy skin to prove it). I can relate to bringing an extra bottle to my parents house incase what they had wasn’t enough. I can relate to feeling the stress that wherever I was might run out of alcohol and then what would I do. I can relate to hiding my volume of intake. So well, in fact, my ex never knew the extent of my drinking because I didn’t want him to. I can relate to the “fear of life”. I can relate to the feelings of fraudulence. I can relate to looking towards someone else, someone worse off, as a beacon of hope: I’m not that bad. I can relate to eyeing everyone else’s drink to make sure that I’m not drinking too fast. I can relate to finding an excuse to go out to my car—Oh shoot, I think I left my wallet in my car—just to take a couple inches off the bottle hiding under my seat. I can relate to letting others define me because I had no core sense of self. I can relate to leading a double life. I can relate to drinking alone to avoid the company of others and the company of myself. I can relate to the selective memory justifying my need to return to drinking—My drinking wasn’t that bad. I exaggerated. I can moderate. I can relate to the denial. Oh, how I can relate to the denial—I’m too young. I still have a job and pay my bills. Sure, I’ve completely blacked out and forgotten where I parked my car but who hasn’t? And sure, there was that one time where I had gotten really drunk at home then drove to a bar, parked like an asshole so I came back to a towed car where I was then “saved” by a policeman who put me in to the back of his car to drive me to my car and then waved at me in my rearview as I drove off, still drunk. But I’m in my 20s! It happens! I can relate to hiding my bottles in what I thought were the most conspicuous places. I can relate to being a passive participant in my own life. I can relate to stopping and finally, after many years, having a sober night and feeling like I wanted to crawl out of my own skin because it was so uncomfortable. I can relate to the anger that I can’t just be “normal” like other people. I can relate to the exhaustion of sobriety. I can relate to painfully, slowly, but gratefully, healing. One day at a time.
“Alcoholism, after all, is a progressive illness; it sneaks up on you so subtly, so insidiously, that you honestly don’t know you’re falling into its grip until long after the fact.“
I can relate to drinking in response to every emotion. I can relate to making promises and really trying to stick with them. I can relate to rationalizing just one more. I’ll deal with it tomorrow. I can relate to losing all of the skin on my knee in a drunken fit (and I still have the patchy skin to prove it). I can relate to bringing an extra bottle to my parents house incase what they had wasn’t enough. I can relate to feeling the stress that wherever I was might run out of alcohol and then what would I do. I can relate to hiding my volume of intake. So well, in fact, my ex never knew the extent of my drinking because I didn’t want him to. I can relate to the “fear of life”. I can relate to the feelings of fraudulence. I can relate to looking towards someone else, someone worse off, as a beacon of hope: I’m not that bad. I can relate to eyeing everyone else’s drink to make sure that I’m not drinking too fast. I can relate to finding an excuse to go out to my car—Oh shoot, I think I left my wallet in my car—just to take a couple inches off the bottle hiding under my seat. I can relate to letting others define me because I had no core sense of self. I can relate to leading a double life. I can relate to drinking alone to avoid the company of others and the company of myself. I can relate to the selective memory justifying my need to return to drinking—My drinking wasn’t that bad. I exaggerated. I can moderate. I can relate to the denial. Oh, how I can relate to the denial—I’m too young. I still have a job and pay my bills. Sure, I’ve completely blacked out and forgotten where I parked my car but who hasn’t? And sure, there was that one time where I had gotten really drunk at home then drove to a bar, parked like an asshole so I came back to a towed car where I was then “saved” by a policeman who put me in to the back of his car to drive me to my car and then waved at me in my rearview as I drove off, still drunk. But I’m in my 20s! It happens! I can relate to hiding my bottles in what I thought were the most conspicuous places. I can relate to being a passive participant in my own life. I can relate to stopping and finally, after many years, having a sober night and feeling like I wanted to crawl out of my own skin because it was so uncomfortable. I can relate to the anger that I can’t just be “normal” like other people. I can relate to the exhaustion of sobriety. I can relate to painfully, slowly, but gratefully, healing. One day at a time.
lisakerd's review against another edition
4.0
Even though somewhat dated, this is a fantastic read for anyone beginning their sober and/or AA journey.
envy4's review against another edition
4.0
Overall I enjoyed the book and had some realizations. My biggest frustration was the way she would talk about alcoholics. “All alcoholics do this and that..” No not every alcoholic does. I don’t buy into how AA focus on alcohol as the problem. It’s a solution to a problem and until you fix the original issue you will want to cover your pain with anything that will dull it. So I rolled my eyes a few times. But still edited the ride.
takumo_n's review against another edition
4.0
This is so honest it gets uncomfortable sometimes. She has a great sense of introspection and insight, so you understand what she and a lot of addicts go through. At first you don't like her, because she talks about all the things her family was doing wrong when she was a kid (which was horrible, but still); or what her man was doing to make her cheat, etc. But then she realises, as a lot of addicts that want to stop, that is her fault and the substance that anesthetize the shame and guilt of her self-destruction. Apparently an addict hits rock bottom when they can't medicate that shame anymore, it's not really losing everything (material or relationship wise), which I didn't know. It can happen at any stage of addiction, even when you're barely starting, depends on the person and their psychosocial enviroment. An addiction stalls out your growth, stopping is literally deciding finally to become an adult, so I understand why it is so difficult and scary. My uncle is an alcoholic. He is in his 60s now, and haven't found the will to stop. Undertanding what maybe is going through his head, and what was his childhood like (and he doesn't stop talking about it) makes it even sadder, but what you gonna do.
ohheyandi's review against another edition
4.0
As always, I have a hard time writing reviews for nonfiction, especially when the author is writing their own lived experience. That being said, Knapp's talent for writing really shone in this, and she backs her experience with research, though the research was up-to-date at the year of publication. Given how much of her internal processes we are privy to, I was surprised to find out that Knapp herself was not a psychologist (though finding out she was the daughter of one really clicked everything into place). I think this book challenges stereotypes of what an alcoholic looks like, the causes of the addiction, and the struggles it takes to get sober. The book and writing are really of its time, but do not let that discourage you from reading it if this sounds interesting to you.