1st let me start off by saying although I gave this book 4 stars it is for the "story" rather than it being a memoir. Because let's be honest if your that whacked out of your head and haven't slept in 4 or 5 days your NOT gonna remember those kinda details that, months/years later, you can recall and turn into a book. I know I have been around addicts and they can't remember what they did the last 2 hours much less what they did months ago. That is not to say I don't believe the author because I do. I believe he went thru junkie hell. I believe his parents loved so much that they blindly supported his slow crawl towards death. I believe he "sketched out" and the others around him did as well. I believe the prostitution and all the scams and what not to get money for drugs. I believe because its REAL. Have someone close to you go through it and you can read this book and go "yup that's what it's like". But what I don't like is this was a memoir and just not him saying I'm gonna write a story and although for that time in my life I do NOT remember exact conversations I'm going to sell it as if I do.

With all that being said this is perhaps the most realistic account I have ever read of what a meth addiction is like and if you know someone who is caught up in this world and you don't understand wtf is going on...read this book.

Meth is evil and this book...for a time...takes you into the darkness and shows you what exactly happens when you take it by the hand and call it friend ( )

Not a great memoir-- there's too much reality of addiction in it, and reality in addiction is messy, incoherent, and compulsive. There was no grand triumphant victory, no admission of fault, just a kid living out a repulsive journey to a new low. Still, I was interested enough to sit down and read it in a two hour span, so I have to admit that I liked it. The fact that the author was still only 23 when he wrote it probably explains more of the flaws than anything else. Mom and Dad were very certainly enablers, which is the most tragic part of the story. Without their cash, the guy might have hit bottom a lot sooner and saved himself some of the agony. ( )

Uninteresting characters doing uninteresting things with no clear voice, creativity or point. Characters float in and out of the story with almost no characterization outside of their direct interations with the main character, with slight exceptions in the main character's brother Jon and his "best friend" Wendy. Gross overuse of the word "fuck" and a handful of pandering to "west coast" audiences, though that could be considered a clever nod to the content.Honestly, just a dull read with passable writing and storytelling skills, but it's mostly uninteresting dialogue and uninteresting non-plot. ( )

How does a well-brought-up teenager from genteel Princeton, NJ, become, in just a year, a bottomed-out speed freak in cruddy Riverside, CA? Well, he wanted to be cool. That's Salant's blunt explanation (not excuse) for his brush with misery, and it's also the saving grace of this memoir. Now, a lot of people might react immediately by thinking "What an idiot." But guess what? Salant would be the first to agree with you. That forthrightness is what keeps this memoir from being as irritating as, by all rights, it ought to be. Despite his puppy-like need for the approval of some mighty nasty characters, Salant comes across as a straight shooter (pun not intended but irresistible), one who's conceivably likable when he's not tweaking.

[For an example of the totally irritating post-adolescent memoir with which no one in their right mind could sympathize, see Abigail Vona.]

The story of one confused kid's attempts to look cool, act cool and be respected, when all the way through he's more frightened than Flashman. An eye-opening, if grim, tale of one man's life on meth and heroin for a year. Of course it has something of a happy - and abbreviated - ending, or else there wouldn't be a book. Interesting, but a bit of a slog near the end - hitting bottom is a slow process. ( )