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Ninety Days: A Memoir of Recovery
The goal is ninety. Just ninety clean and sober days to loosen the hold of the addiction that caused Bill Clegg to lose everything. With six weeks of his most recent rehab behind him he returns to New York and attends two or three meetings each day. It is in these refuges that he befriends essential allies including Polly, who struggles daily with her own cycle of recovery and relapse, and the seemingly unshakably sober Asa.
At first, the support is not Clegg relapses with only three days left. Written with uncompromised immediacy, Ninety Days begins where Portrait of an Addict as a Young Man ends-and tells the wrenching story of Clegg's battle to reclaim his life. As any recovering addict knows, hitting rock bottom is just the beginning.
At first, the support is not Clegg relapses with only three days left. Written with uncompromised immediacy, Ninety Days begins where Portrait of an Addict as a Young Man ends-and tells the wrenching story of Clegg's battle to reclaim his life. As any recovering addict knows, hitting rock bottom is just the beginning.
208 pages, Hardcover
First published April 10, 2012
62 people are currently reading
1861 people want to read
About the author
Bill Clegg
5 books623 followersBill Clegg is a literary agent in New York. He is the author of the novel Did You Ever Have A Family and the memoirs Portrait of an Addict as a Young Man and Ninety Days.
He has written for the New York Times, Lapham’s Quarterly, New York magazine, The Guardian, and Harper’s Bazaar.
He has written for the New York Times, Lapham’s Quarterly, New York magazine, The Guardian, and Harper’s Bazaar.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 153 reviews
February 25, 2017
This is the book James Frey wishes he'd written
November 20, 2022
A true roller coaster ride of a read. Fast and thrilling. Those moments when the addict decides to pick up still remain mysterious. In this memoir they seem to happen at any time, for no real reason.
I did find myself worrying about Benny, the long suffering cat who did not seem to like his erratic "owner" very much. I wonder what this cat's story would be if he wrote his own book? Poor old lonesome Benny.
I did find myself worrying about Benny, the long suffering cat who did not seem to like his erratic "owner" very much. I wonder what this cat's story would be if he wrote his own book? Poor old lonesome Benny.
October 17, 2018
Perhaps inevitably, this feels very subdued compared to Clegg’s flashy account of the heights of his drug addiction (Portrait of an Addict as a Young Man). It’s not a satisfyingly tidy story of getting clean and staying clean; it’s full of setbacks, stupid mistakes, and willful backsliding. In narcotics support groups you’re said to be cured when you’ve gone 90 days without using. At the start of each meeting, you go around the circle and each person says aloud how many days clean they have. Sometimes, for Clegg, it’s a respectable 50-something. But sometimes it’s just one day, and the cycle starts over. This involves some repetition, and there are lots of references to friends and lovers, both past and present, that I had trouble keeping straight. Still, if you’re a fan of Clegg’s other books or have a particular interest in addiction recovery, this is worth reading.
Favorite passage: “Five and a half years and then one day. For me, there are no finish lines. No recovered, just recovering. My sobriety, that delicate state that can, for years at a time, feel unshakable, is completely dependent on my connection to other alcoholics and addicts, my seeking their help and my offering it.”
Favorite passage: “Five and a half years and then one day. For me, there are no finish lines. No recovered, just recovering. My sobriety, that delicate state that can, for years at a time, feel unshakable, is completely dependent on my connection to other alcoholics and addicts, my seeking their help and my offering it.”
October 13, 2015
Wow. I read this book in one sitting. It was exhausting. If you've ever wondered what an addict goes through on the roller coaster ride to recover, read this book. Raw and heartbreaking, I just want to meet Bill Clegg and give him a hug.
January 25, 2012
WARNING RANT AHEAD: I am hopping mad about this book (sorry Julie!) This should be edited down to be the epilogue of the paperback edition of his last book (which I also read, and wasn't crazy about, but liked more than this.) $24.95 for a 150-ish hardcover? 5 pages of which, for example, are about a walk in the effing rain? REALLY, Little Brown? Ever hear of a little thing called PAPERBACK ORIGINAL?
Listen, I get that addiction is a horrible, wrenching, soul-sucking disease. Reviewing memoirs is tricky - even little Goodreads reviews for my own self. There's a line between critiquing a book and the person, and I am only talking about the former. The bottom line is Bill Clegg, like anyone, should be commended for getting sober, for continuing to go back to meetings, for sharing his story with other addicts, and for his honesty.
And I recognize some of my fury is just some old baggage I've been carrying around. Some of my ire is jealousy. I feel the same way I always feel when addicts are commended for getting up and going to work at the 7-11 and coming home and cleaning their bathroom. Oh yay you, you did great today! Except that's called being a grown person. Everyone needs a little recovery time, but most of us aren't lucky enough to get a year of not working and living in their own apartment in the city, while a rich friend brings food over every week.
But mostly I'm angry because this isn't a book, it's a diary. Publishing it seems to feed into Clegg's terminal uniqueness. If he were anything other than a literary agent there's no way in hell this follow-up memoir would be published at all. Lousy business decisions like this make the whole publishing world look bad!
Day 1-12: Out of rehab, still terminally unique, barely holding on
Day 13: Relapse
Rinse, repeat, interject a couple of stories about fellow addicts
Day 5,411: Epilogue where he FINALLY seems to get it.
The epilogue is the only redeeming factor. Anytime an addict says "Day 1 for the last time", you know it isn't the last time. I felt a sense of relief in Bangkok. Next time, maybe a nice article in the NYT would be sufficient.
Listen, I get that addiction is a horrible, wrenching, soul-sucking disease. Reviewing memoirs is tricky - even little Goodreads reviews for my own self. There's a line between critiquing a book and the person, and I am only talking about the former. The bottom line is Bill Clegg, like anyone, should be commended for getting sober, for continuing to go back to meetings, for sharing his story with other addicts, and for his honesty.
And I recognize some of my fury is just some old baggage I've been carrying around. Some of my ire is jealousy. I feel the same way I always feel when addicts are commended for getting up and going to work at the 7-11 and coming home and cleaning their bathroom. Oh yay you, you did great today! Except that's called being a grown person. Everyone needs a little recovery time, but most of us aren't lucky enough to get a year of not working and living in their own apartment in the city, while a rich friend brings food over every week.
But mostly I'm angry because this isn't a book, it's a diary. Publishing it seems to feed into Clegg's terminal uniqueness. If he were anything other than a literary agent there's no way in hell this follow-up memoir would be published at all. Lousy business decisions like this make the whole publishing world look bad!
Day 1-12: Out of rehab, still terminally unique, barely holding on
Day 13: Relapse
Rinse, repeat, interject a couple of stories about fellow addicts
Day 5,411: Epilogue where he FINALLY seems to get it.
The epilogue is the only redeeming factor. Anytime an addict says "Day 1 for the last time", you know it isn't the last time. I felt a sense of relief in Bangkok. Next time, maybe a nice article in the NYT would be sufficient.
February 7, 2013
This book fills in a lot of the blanks from "Portrait of the Young Man as an Addict." Clegg clearly withheld a great deal of information from his first book, making his rehab and recovery seem much more easy than it really was. I was extremely angry at him as I read this new book and realized how he had misrepresented his recovery in the prior work, but I guess once in denial, always in denial. Yes,he does try to make up for that here, and his descriptions and representations of himself are quite harrowing. One leaves the book with a much clearer understanding of just how difficult it is to remain on the recovery path, that it takes a lot of determination and commitment, and just how easy it is to go off the path. One also gets a greater appreciation for the one day at a time philosophy, which enables a reader to be less judgmental, but leaves room for feelings of exasperation. I also wondered how much of this book he had to write in order to fill in more of his story before his former partner Ira Sachs released his film "Keep the Lights On," which essentially is the story of their relationship told from Ira's point of view. Since Ira's film goes beyond Bill's initial rehab and into their relationship post-release, I think Bill felt he had to account for more of his behavior that may or may not have been covered in Sach's fictional yet clearly autobiographical film. I also wish that Clegg had included in his new book the reactions of people around him to his first book, not only his partner's reaction, but some of the people he met in rehab, his family, etc., to see if they confronted him over this portrayal of himself and his recovery process and whether they felt he had been completely honest. But Clegg doesn't go there, which seems to be a major omission from this newest work.
June 3, 2015
I live for a good memoir, but in the words of Nicki Minaj, "I don't know, mane."
A memoir versus a personal narrative requires a lot of reflection, right? NINETY DAYS (NINETY DAZE) is a beach read: there's no causation, there's zero analysis, there are tons of mildly interesting characters who all circle around some kind of addiction. It's like the TRUE BLOOD series without anything supernatural, and less homoerotic. He smoked a lot of crack, wrecked his life, destroyed his career, drained his bank account, fixed himself, moved back to NYC, and spends the rest of the 200 pages in a kind of Groundhog Day of addiction and abstinence, like Bill Murray is Bill Clegg and Andie MacDowell is a crack pipe.
And I get that addiction is cyclical; it's hard to break any kind of cycle.
And then there's the question of his boo's. I particularly disliked his treatment of Asa. The fact that he brings him up again and again after Clegg flatly dismisses his romantic advances feels really mean-spirited. And I'm sure Clegg himself would say he's emblematic of addiction, in that a person must always keep it in mind because it's always right around the corner, but I think Clegg's biography alone speaks volumes to that. Just cut him out of the narrative after you're finished using him as a basic driving device. Asa will now forever know that his story was made public; even if his name is changed, that stain will never be erased.
Props for exorcising the demons and helping people by airing your dirty laundry. Rah rah, I guess. Being sober is the coolest thing in the world.
I felt the need to take a shower after finishing this, and it had nothing to do with the crank.
A memoir versus a personal narrative requires a lot of reflection, right? NINETY DAYS (NINETY DAZE) is a beach read: there's no causation, there's zero analysis, there are tons of mildly interesting characters who all circle around some kind of addiction. It's like the TRUE BLOOD series without anything supernatural, and less homoerotic. He smoked a lot of crack, wrecked his life, destroyed his career, drained his bank account, fixed himself, moved back to NYC, and spends the rest of the 200 pages in a kind of Groundhog Day of addiction and abstinence, like Bill Murray is Bill Clegg and Andie MacDowell is a crack pipe.
And I get that addiction is cyclical; it's hard to break any kind of cycle.
And then there's the question of his boo's. I particularly disliked his treatment of Asa. The fact that he brings him up again and again after Clegg flatly dismisses his romantic advances feels really mean-spirited. And I'm sure Clegg himself would say he's emblematic of addiction, in that a person must always keep it in mind because it's always right around the corner, but I think Clegg's biography alone speaks volumes to that. Just cut him out of the narrative after you're finished using him as a basic driving device. Asa will now forever know that his story was made public; even if his name is changed, that stain will never be erased.
Props for exorcising the demons and helping people by airing your dirty laundry. Rah rah, I guess. Being sober is the coolest thing in the world.
I felt the need to take a shower after finishing this, and it had nothing to do with the crank.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 5, 2022
I love book about addiction and this one was so well written. Heartbreaking but so truthful and engaging- couldn’t put it down!
November 3, 2015
Talk about a time when I did NOT need a good cry, but finished this book and had one anyway. Bill Clegg is so talented.
March 5, 2024
“I arrive at my building, enter the lobby, and hit the elevator button. Somewhere between the lobby and the seventeenth floor, three months’ rent becomes seven digits. Seven forgotten digits that bubble up from memory like a dark miracle that I dial on my new phone which, until now, had not stored or dialed any dealer’s phone. Three months’ rent becomes eight nights high. Eight nights less the thousand I owe Rico and the thousand I owe Happy. Six nights high.”
“I can instantly tell the difference when I inhale the new smoke and the freight train I’ve been waiting for all day finally hits me. At last, the world cracks open and I fall through, leaving behind for a blessed second everything and everyone. What comes next is restlessness followed by an urgent need to get out of the apartment. What comes after that are two Asian guys - young, hip, bored, cute - standing in front of a white tile apartment down the block, who seem to be waiting for me. I ask them to come over and they do. I ask them if they get high and they say yes. I show them a stem and they ask what it is. I suggest they try, and they do. They both get naked and I join them and the hours pass as the three of us thrash around on the bed and stip and stop dozens of times to get high and down vodka. At around ten in the morning I am convinced they are undercover cops or DEA agents who have tricked me into letting them in, and demand that they leave. I have five bags left and I stuff a quarter of the contents of one into a pipe and begin to hope, like so many times before, that my heart explodes, that my brain erupts, and that the death dance can resolve, for once and finally, in death. I look across my small studio when I remember the door that leads to the terrace: if all else fails, there’s that.”
“At some point, Heather passes out and Polly tries, unsuccessfully, to wake her up. She shakes her, splashes water on her face, and shouts her name, but nothing works. She checks for a pulse and feels Heather’s heart beating in her chest so she knows she’s alive. She must have overdosed, Polly realizes, as she does a big line to kill off her rising panic, when that doesn’t work, she does another. There’s almost an entire eight ball sitting on the coffee table, and when she thinks of calling the ambulance, she knows that when someone comes she’ll have to go to the hospital with Heather. And stop using. She keeps doing line after line, thinking she’s about to call 911, but each time the high doesn’t last and soon she needs another line. She keeps thinking she’ll call after one more. After two and a half hours or so of this, the eight ball is not gone, Heather is still unconscious, and Polly freaks out and finally calls 911. The paramedics come, get Heather to the ER, pump her system clean, and keep her for the night. Polly leaves her at the hospital, goes back to their apartment to finish the eight ball, drink vodka, and takes some sleeping pills until she passes out.”
“It strikes me how small I’ve made the city again - how limited the terrain I travel, how predictable.”
“We are everywhere - a whole empire of rooms filling regularly, every hour of every day and with no one paying or getting paid to be there. Invisible cities, invisible rooms we pass by until by way of desperation or desire or ultimatum they are revealed to us.”
“I can instantly tell the difference when I inhale the new smoke and the freight train I’ve been waiting for all day finally hits me. At last, the world cracks open and I fall through, leaving behind for a blessed second everything and everyone. What comes next is restlessness followed by an urgent need to get out of the apartment. What comes after that are two Asian guys - young, hip, bored, cute - standing in front of a white tile apartment down the block, who seem to be waiting for me. I ask them to come over and they do. I ask them if they get high and they say yes. I show them a stem and they ask what it is. I suggest they try, and they do. They both get naked and I join them and the hours pass as the three of us thrash around on the bed and stip and stop dozens of times to get high and down vodka. At around ten in the morning I am convinced they are undercover cops or DEA agents who have tricked me into letting them in, and demand that they leave. I have five bags left and I stuff a quarter of the contents of one into a pipe and begin to hope, like so many times before, that my heart explodes, that my brain erupts, and that the death dance can resolve, for once and finally, in death. I look across my small studio when I remember the door that leads to the terrace: if all else fails, there’s that.”
“At some point, Heather passes out and Polly tries, unsuccessfully, to wake her up. She shakes her, splashes water on her face, and shouts her name, but nothing works. She checks for a pulse and feels Heather’s heart beating in her chest so she knows she’s alive. She must have overdosed, Polly realizes, as she does a big line to kill off her rising panic, when that doesn’t work, she does another. There’s almost an entire eight ball sitting on the coffee table, and when she thinks of calling the ambulance, she knows that when someone comes she’ll have to go to the hospital with Heather. And stop using. She keeps doing line after line, thinking she’s about to call 911, but each time the high doesn’t last and soon she needs another line. She keeps thinking she’ll call after one more. After two and a half hours or so of this, the eight ball is not gone, Heather is still unconscious, and Polly freaks out and finally calls 911. The paramedics come, get Heather to the ER, pump her system clean, and keep her for the night. Polly leaves her at the hospital, goes back to their apartment to finish the eight ball, drink vodka, and takes some sleeping pills until she passes out.”
“It strikes me how small I’ve made the city again - how limited the terrain I travel, how predictable.”
“We are everywhere - a whole empire of rooms filling regularly, every hour of every day and with no one paying or getting paid to be there. Invisible cities, invisible rooms we pass by until by way of desperation or desire or ultimatum they are revealed to us.”
December 20, 2023
I cried. I laughed. I got triggered. I cried some more. I went to a meeting. I called my sponsor.
October 8, 2023
“We are only as sick as our secrets. I missed not being sick”
Incredible, and devastating. A story of harrowing humanity.
Incredible, and devastating. A story of harrowing humanity.
May 20, 2012
There is no prize for beating an addiction, there is no finish line. Like life itself, it's a work in progress.
You can't have it all. You have to choose, do you want your addiction or do you want life. You can't have both.
You get to a point where you're sick and tired of being sick and tired.
I never understood the AA philosophy until I read this book. I was reluctant to look at it because of it's emphasis on God or a higher power. I never liked the line "I accept I am powerless over drugs and alcohol" as the only way I could see to get sober was to take back the power from drugs and alcohol. But what this book really illustrated for me was the community aspect, how people can help each other, talk to each other, look out for each other. When you're at your lowest point you have someone in the same situation and the two of you are stronger together.
I don't know that I've ever relied on someone like that, that I have ever let my guard down enough to need someone else. With this book I hope to have made a step in that direction, to be able to trust.
I bought signed copies of the physical books and the ebooks for both of Clegg's book before reading a word. He is attractive, gay, powerful, someone I want to be. And you read the harrowing account, and it reminds me that we are all the same, all human. Everyone has plusses and minuses. Clegg has looks and power and fame and he also has a desire to throw it all away, to kill himself, to smoke crack. He has lied and cheated and stolen from those closest to him.
So many thoughts came out of this book, it's hard to summarize. I had to stop reading frequently to think.
Clegg mentions in this book feeling like there was a primer, a set of rules to live by and that he feels he's the only one who never got the memo. I've felt like that my whole life. This book has helped me to not put other people on a pedestal above myself, that they are not better, just different. We all bring something to the table.
This book has helped me realize that kicking the addiction is not the end of the process. There is a bigger picture, where you take the shame and the guilt and the reasons that led to the addiction and you get a chance, in the light of day, to see them.
I have not treated myself well, and I accept that, and now I am ready to try harder.
I have held on to guilt and shame and I am ready to release them and let something else fill that space in my life.
I have held myself back, been afraid, hidden in drugs and alcohol, hidden in myself, hurt myself. I see this now. I will not beat myself up for it, but will acknowledge these feelings and use them to help me be stronger, and braver and better in future. And to be myself.
Thank you, Bill Clegg, for sharing your journey. I wish us both luck.
You can't have it all. You have to choose, do you want your addiction or do you want life. You can't have both.
You get to a point where you're sick and tired of being sick and tired.
I never understood the AA philosophy until I read this book. I was reluctant to look at it because of it's emphasis on God or a higher power. I never liked the line "I accept I am powerless over drugs and alcohol" as the only way I could see to get sober was to take back the power from drugs and alcohol. But what this book really illustrated for me was the community aspect, how people can help each other, talk to each other, look out for each other. When you're at your lowest point you have someone in the same situation and the two of you are stronger together.
I don't know that I've ever relied on someone like that, that I have ever let my guard down enough to need someone else. With this book I hope to have made a step in that direction, to be able to trust.
I bought signed copies of the physical books and the ebooks for both of Clegg's book before reading a word. He is attractive, gay, powerful, someone I want to be. And you read the harrowing account, and it reminds me that we are all the same, all human. Everyone has plusses and minuses. Clegg has looks and power and fame and he also has a desire to throw it all away, to kill himself, to smoke crack. He has lied and cheated and stolen from those closest to him.
So many thoughts came out of this book, it's hard to summarize. I had to stop reading frequently to think.
Clegg mentions in this book feeling like there was a primer, a set of rules to live by and that he feels he's the only one who never got the memo. I've felt like that my whole life. This book has helped me to not put other people on a pedestal above myself, that they are not better, just different. We all bring something to the table.
This book has helped me realize that kicking the addiction is not the end of the process. There is a bigger picture, where you take the shame and the guilt and the reasons that led to the addiction and you get a chance, in the light of day, to see them.
I have not treated myself well, and I accept that, and now I am ready to try harder.
I have held on to guilt and shame and I am ready to release them and let something else fill that space in my life.
I have held myself back, been afraid, hidden in drugs and alcohol, hidden in myself, hurt myself. I see this now. I will not beat myself up for it, but will acknowledge these feelings and use them to help me be stronger, and braver and better in future. And to be myself.
Thank you, Bill Clegg, for sharing your journey. I wish us both luck.
June 24, 2012
Description:
Ninety Days is the true story of Bill Clegg's recovery - crack addicted to clean and sober. This memoir is the follow-up to his first book , Portrait of an Addict as a Young Man, and begins where it left off - after seventy-three days of rehab.
Review:
A raw and highly emotional look into the life of a once prominent businessman and his strenuous journey to sobriety, Ninety days is an intense, yet simply-written, look into recovery from addiction. It feels like I am reading Clegg's journal, and the entries have a lot of impact. His writing style is honest and full of poignant prose, his ordeal a glimpse into a torment of the human condition. The interactions and dialogue are well-written, but the sections about his relapse(s) are some of the most engrossing. I am very moved by his story, however, I feel like Ninety Days should be read after Portrait of an Addict as a Young Man, because it feels sort of incomplete alone. Recommended for those who have struggled with their own addictive behaviors and/or readers interested in the drug rehabilitation process; also appropriate for older teens.
Rating: Bounty's Out (3/5)
*** I received this book from the author (Little, Brown and Company) in exchange for an honest and unbiased review.
Ninety Days is the true story of Bill Clegg's recovery - crack addicted to clean and sober. This memoir is the follow-up to his first book , Portrait of an Addict as a Young Man, and begins where it left off - after seventy-three days of rehab.
Review:
A raw and highly emotional look into the life of a once prominent businessman and his strenuous journey to sobriety, Ninety days is an intense, yet simply-written, look into recovery from addiction. It feels like I am reading Clegg's journal, and the entries have a lot of impact. His writing style is honest and full of poignant prose, his ordeal a glimpse into a torment of the human condition. The interactions and dialogue are well-written, but the sections about his relapse(s) are some of the most engrossing. I am very moved by his story, however, I feel like Ninety Days should be read after Portrait of an Addict as a Young Man, because it feels sort of incomplete alone. Recommended for those who have struggled with their own addictive behaviors and/or readers interested in the drug rehabilitation process; also appropriate for older teens.
Rating: Bounty's Out (3/5)
*** I received this book from the author (Little, Brown and Company) in exchange for an honest and unbiased review.
April 6, 2012
After reading his story of going down in flames in "Portrait of an Addict", I was curious to see how the recovery process went for him. If you are an addict or know an addict, the path is predictable but still painful in all of the relapses, moments of personal blindness, the pain and the fury. Halfway through this, I found myself itching - while I think this recovery memoir can be useful to many who are new to recovery, those who are at risk of being set off by trigger memories should avoid this until they have some time and distance from their worst days. Those who have gone through the recovery process, or who are going through it, might find this a useful book to give friends to help explain what they are going through...
This is not "every man's tale", this is a tale, though, of many men (and women). Those who bob their way to rock bottom rather than hitting it once and coming back for air permanently. Bill was brave in his writing, even in the face of saying things that do not endear his character to the reader. It feels honest, and that is the hardest part of the recovery process - facing the world in your naked truth.
This is not "every man's tale", this is a tale, though, of many men (and women). Those who bob their way to rock bottom rather than hitting it once and coming back for air permanently. Bill was brave in his writing, even in the face of saying things that do not endear his character to the reader. It feels honest, and that is the hardest part of the recovery process - facing the world in your naked truth.
Read
April 8, 2012Ninety days? Seems like ninety years of groundhog day as Clegg tried to piece together three months of time that benchmark a solid toehold on sobriety. Clegg was finally able to write this account of his many failed attempts at rehab, of quitting binges with crack and vodka, of pissing off his sober friends while burning bridge after bridge and crack pipe after crack pipe. It's nothing short of miraculous that Clegg had a single human being to turn to after his dissolute spiraling antics or even remember enough of his early sober days to write it down. Even *I* almost lost patience with this drug-alog. But, as with many other addicts, when Clegg is good he's very good; His portrayals of other addicts and drunks, also struggling to build a life out of their own messy wreckage, betray an astute compassion, a preternatural ability to connect with other humans in distress, a certain charm and charisma. And this gift for friendship could very well explain Clegg's survival despite his strangely persistent impulse to self-annihilate. As we consider resurrections in the month of April, this odyssey is apropos.
February 19, 2016
This follow-up memoir lacks the unmistakable intensity of its first volume, Portrait of an Addict as a Young Man: A Memoir, and I think my appreciation of that first book has at least slightly colored my impression of the second.
Still, though, this small book is worth reading. At the end of Portrait, there is a sense of triumph over addiction, which I felt hungry for after reading page after page of Clegg's shocking experiences as a crack addict. But this book reminds you that recovery from addiction is not a straight upward line, but a series of hills and valleys that waffle interminably. Portrait scares you straight. Ninety Days reminds you that nobody is ever fully recovered, and that perhaps that truth can be just as scary.
Still, though, this small book is worth reading. At the end of Portrait, there is a sense of triumph over addiction, which I felt hungry for after reading page after page of Clegg's shocking experiences as a crack addict. But this book reminds you that recovery from addiction is not a straight upward line, but a series of hills and valleys that waffle interminably. Portrait scares you straight. Ninety Days reminds you that nobody is ever fully recovered, and that perhaps that truth can be just as scary.
September 6, 2013
A compelling look at addiction and relapse. Clegg is a skilled writer and it was a fast read. Still as person in recovery I cringed at some of more brutal moments and sometimes wanted to shake Clegg. The drama of relapse makes for a juicy read and as a literary agent Clegg knows how to push the more tragic parts of his story over talking about a solution. Nevertheless, it's a wholly accurate portrayal of life in recovery and he's a terrific writer. I'm just not sure I can say I "loved it."
UPDATE: After I read this book, it stayed with me for days. I couldn't get it out of my head or stop talking about it. The longer I was away from it I realized, maybe I did love it. So it got upgraded to 4 stars from 3 juts for staying on my mind.
UPDATE: After I read this book, it stayed with me for days. I couldn't get it out of my head or stop talking about it. The longer I was away from it I realized, maybe I did love it. So it got upgraded to 4 stars from 3 juts for staying on my mind.
June 18, 2019
This is my favorite book about drug addiction / recovery that I've EVER read (and believe me, I've read quite a few!) There was one part that was slightly triggering, but I think the author knew exactly when to back off, and it didn't deter me from finishing this marvelous book. If you are an addict, or even if you aren't, you will come away from reading this book a little wiser about the struggle of staying clean. Clegg doesn't glorify or exaggerate his descriptions. This is a true-to-life portrayal of the situation that one finds himself in when it becomes time to finally haul himself out of the pit and rebuild his life again once addiction has tried, unsuccessfully, to claim his life.
May 24, 2013
I did this backwards- I read this before his first book. Bare bones, raw, gritty, and unabashedly honest, Bill Clegg doesn't sugarcoat anything. No denials about the fact that he relapses multiple times, to his friends who are in the same boat, to the sponsor who nothing seems to faze until the very end, to the family and friends who have given up on him succeeding, there is no stone left unturned. A great book.
March 7, 2017
Lu en français !
Bill est de retour à New York après une cure de désintox de 6 semaines.
Quand il se retrouve seul dans le studio de Dave, puis dans son propre appartement, j'assiste au début de son introspection. Le poids de la rechute pèse sur ses épaules tel un couperet. Il se rend à sa première réunion, où Jack son parrain qui est ancien toxico est présent pour le soutenir. Le processus commence, se débrouiller sans l'assistance du corps médical, sans surveillance constante. Le temps de renaître de ses cendres comme le phœnix.
Cependant, ce qui est tu, c'est que vous seul êtes maître de votre destinée, de vos choix, que nul autre ne se bat à votre place. Les étapes ne sont pas une partie de plaisir. Les 90 jours sont l'Everest à gravir et le chemin est sinueux, tortueux et torturé.
Bill a touché les bas fonds de l'alcoolisme et du Crack. Son retour à New York est le lieu du théâtre où c'est joué son ancienne vie, les fantômes de son passé partis en fumée resurgissent en souvenir constants et déstabilisants. Mille questions s'entrechoquent pendant cette période de doutes incessants. Il se dévalorise énormément. Le premier pas de la guérison est d'accepter enfin la vérité de sa condition mais le plus dur sera de demander de l'aide, de se battre pour se sortir la tête hors du marécage, de relativiser et comprendre qu'il a évité le pire. Or, le plus long du chemin vers la rédemption reste à être parcouru par lui seul !
90 jours, c'est le temps symbolique estimé pour un pied bien ancré dans la sobriété. Et pour y parvenir rien ne sert de courir.
Extrait : « Une réunion après l'autre, un jour après l'autre ».
J'assiste au quotidien de cet homme qui se cherche, tente de se reconstruire avec les moyens disponibles. Je perçois son trouble, ses doutes abyssales quand à son avenir encore incertain. Son angoisse, sa tristesse qui le ronge, le percute à chaque frôlement de son passé. Le plus dur est le regard des proches qui doutent pour vous, parsemé de douleur, d'incompréhension et de colère contenue.
La tentation est partout, présente à chaque coin de rue. L'euphorie qu'elle provoque est cent fois plus attrayante que la réalité qui se dessine chaque jour devant Bill. Y plonger est plus rapide et fulgurant et la honte qui en découle est un engrenage mortel.
Je perçois Bill comme une plaie qui essaie désespérément de cicatriser, seulement sa volonté est mise à rude épreuve, le désespoir si grand et sa confiance en lui est presque inexistante qu'il ne croit pas en sa rédemption.
La description des lieux n'est pas chaotique, ni trop développée. Toutefois, je me perds parfois dans le temps. J'oscille entre passé et présent, captant les souvenirs, les anecdotes et je réalise la perte et la descente minutieuse et pernicieuse dans cet enfer gluant qui l'a englouti.
Ce livre est un témoignage de l'auteur lui-même. C'est bouleversant, il montre que la rechute est omniprésente, le combat difficile. Il paraît souvent insurmontable que seul son opiniâtreté personnelle compte dans ce maelström d'incertitudes devant cet avenir qui se construit dans un brouillard épais tantôt infranchissable tantôt qui s’éclaircit. Il piétine entre sauvetage et envie sournoise de drogue.
La plume de l'auteur est sublime et tranchante. Il expose parfaitement la difficulté à rester clean. La manière qu'à le cerveau de se déconnecter de la vie réelle quand il se souvient des effets du Crack. Que même les amis, la famille, la destruction de sa carrière, de sa vie ne suffit pas à le détourner définitivement de la came perfide qui le gangrène, l'attire, le contrôle et le détruit. Cette lecture est éprouvante, percutante et stressante. Pour une personne extérieure qui n'a jamais connu la dépendance cela peut paraître surréaliste. La volonté est capable de s'effriter aussi rapidement que le sable s'envole dans une tempête.
Ce qui m'a également interpellé, c'est le monde inconnu, de toutes ces salles de réunion prévues pour toutes les différentes dépendances, les bénévoles qui officient dans l'ombre pour aider les accrocs multiples et leur famille à surmonter le passage des 90 jours fatidiques et au delà.
Ce monde inconnu pour une personne lambda qui se fond dans la masse.
Cet échange est indispensable, mais surtout comment des inconnus deviennent les personnes les plus importantes de votre vie, un soutien, une lueur d'espoir dans les ténèbres. La bataille est constante et à vie. Face à une mort qui vous tend les bras en permanence.
La détresse est palpable à chaque instant de ce récit, à chaque rechute qui s'accompagne de paranoïa, de la descente honteuse, de la colère des personnes intimement liées à votre entourage.
Dans chaque phrase, chaque mot Bill Clegg se juge, s'analyse. C'est écrit avec beaucoup d'émotions qui ne sont pas toujours gaies mais d'une justesse à couper le souffle !
Parfois, il suffit juste d'un déclic grâce auquel la situation change, une phrase, un acte, une personne, une réunion... Accepter d'être aidé, et d'aider en retour.
La fin est bouleversante et profonde, je l'ai tant attendu qu'elle m'apaise.
Cependant, il ne faut pas oublier : « Pour moi, il n'y a pas de ligne d'arrivée. Pas de repentis, seulement un processus de sevrage perpétuel ».
Ne passer pas à côté de ce pur moment de vérité poignante !
Bill est de retour à New York après une cure de désintox de 6 semaines.
Quand il se retrouve seul dans le studio de Dave, puis dans son propre appartement, j'assiste au début de son introspection. Le poids de la rechute pèse sur ses épaules tel un couperet. Il se rend à sa première réunion, où Jack son parrain qui est ancien toxico est présent pour le soutenir. Le processus commence, se débrouiller sans l'assistance du corps médical, sans surveillance constante. Le temps de renaître de ses cendres comme le phœnix.
Cependant, ce qui est tu, c'est que vous seul êtes maître de votre destinée, de vos choix, que nul autre ne se bat à votre place. Les étapes ne sont pas une partie de plaisir. Les 90 jours sont l'Everest à gravir et le chemin est sinueux, tortueux et torturé.
Bill a touché les bas fonds de l'alcoolisme et du Crack. Son retour à New York est le lieu du théâtre où c'est joué son ancienne vie, les fantômes de son passé partis en fumée resurgissent en souvenir constants et déstabilisants. Mille questions s'entrechoquent pendant cette période de doutes incessants. Il se dévalorise énormément. Le premier pas de la guérison est d'accepter enfin la vérité de sa condition mais le plus dur sera de demander de l'aide, de se battre pour se sortir la tête hors du marécage, de relativiser et comprendre qu'il a évité le pire. Or, le plus long du chemin vers la rédemption reste à être parcouru par lui seul !
90 jours, c'est le temps symbolique estimé pour un pied bien ancré dans la sobriété. Et pour y parvenir rien ne sert de courir.
Extrait : « Une réunion après l'autre, un jour après l'autre ».
J'assiste au quotidien de cet homme qui se cherche, tente de se reconstruire avec les moyens disponibles. Je perçois son trouble, ses doutes abyssales quand à son avenir encore incertain. Son angoisse, sa tristesse qui le ronge, le percute à chaque frôlement de son passé. Le plus dur est le regard des proches qui doutent pour vous, parsemé de douleur, d'incompréhension et de colère contenue.
La tentation est partout, présente à chaque coin de rue. L'euphorie qu'elle provoque est cent fois plus attrayante que la réalité qui se dessine chaque jour devant Bill. Y plonger est plus rapide et fulgurant et la honte qui en découle est un engrenage mortel.
Je perçois Bill comme une plaie qui essaie désespérément de cicatriser, seulement sa volonté est mise à rude épreuve, le désespoir si grand et sa confiance en lui est presque inexistante qu'il ne croit pas en sa rédemption.
La description des lieux n'est pas chaotique, ni trop développée. Toutefois, je me perds parfois dans le temps. J'oscille entre passé et présent, captant les souvenirs, les anecdotes et je réalise la perte et la descente minutieuse et pernicieuse dans cet enfer gluant qui l'a englouti.
Ce livre est un témoignage de l'auteur lui-même. C'est bouleversant, il montre que la rechute est omniprésente, le combat difficile. Il paraît souvent insurmontable que seul son opiniâtreté personnelle compte dans ce maelström d'incertitudes devant cet avenir qui se construit dans un brouillard épais tantôt infranchissable tantôt qui s’éclaircit. Il piétine entre sauvetage et envie sournoise de drogue.
La plume de l'auteur est sublime et tranchante. Il expose parfaitement la difficulté à rester clean. La manière qu'à le cerveau de se déconnecter de la vie réelle quand il se souvient des effets du Crack. Que même les amis, la famille, la destruction de sa carrière, de sa vie ne suffit pas à le détourner définitivement de la came perfide qui le gangrène, l'attire, le contrôle et le détruit. Cette lecture est éprouvante, percutante et stressante. Pour une personne extérieure qui n'a jamais connu la dépendance cela peut paraître surréaliste. La volonté est capable de s'effriter aussi rapidement que le sable s'envole dans une tempête.
Ce qui m'a également interpellé, c'est le monde inconnu, de toutes ces salles de réunion prévues pour toutes les différentes dépendances, les bénévoles qui officient dans l'ombre pour aider les accrocs multiples et leur famille à surmonter le passage des 90 jours fatidiques et au delà.
Ce monde inconnu pour une personne lambda qui se fond dans la masse.
Cet échange est indispensable, mais surtout comment des inconnus deviennent les personnes les plus importantes de votre vie, un soutien, une lueur d'espoir dans les ténèbres. La bataille est constante et à vie. Face à une mort qui vous tend les bras en permanence.
La détresse est palpable à chaque instant de ce récit, à chaque rechute qui s'accompagne de paranoïa, de la descente honteuse, de la colère des personnes intimement liées à votre entourage.
Dans chaque phrase, chaque mot Bill Clegg se juge, s'analyse. C'est écrit avec beaucoup d'émotions qui ne sont pas toujours gaies mais d'une justesse à couper le souffle !
Parfois, il suffit juste d'un déclic grâce auquel la situation change, une phrase, un acte, une personne, une réunion... Accepter d'être aidé, et d'aider en retour.
La fin est bouleversante et profonde, je l'ai tant attendu qu'elle m'apaise.
Cependant, il ne faut pas oublier : « Pour moi, il n'y a pas de ligne d'arrivée. Pas de repentis, seulement un processus de sevrage perpétuel ».
Ne passer pas à côté de ce pur moment de vérité poignante !
February 24, 2019
Awesome, brutally honest and inspiring
July 10, 2021
Fascinating
I have Read both books twice now. The story is well told and a fascinating insight into the life addiction. Highly recommend
I have Read both books twice now. The story is well told and a fascinating insight into the life addiction. Highly recommend
July 27, 2025
I'm in a bit of a pickle here. I hope anyone reading this review is old enough to remember the original American Idol judging panel, because I pride myself on essentially being basically like the Paula Abdul of Goodreads reviews. But after a lot of thought, I think this needs to happen: I need to unleash a little of my inner Simon Cowell. 😬😬😬
So here goes...
I find the author a little pretentious and snobby. There, I said it. It feels good to get that out.
I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt while reading his first memoir (I thought the title, "Portrait of an Addict as Young Man," which is a call-back to a respected literary "classic," seemed like pretentious posturing, and I wondered if maybe I was just being unfair) as well as this second memoir... until I got to page 72, where he attempts to compare the quality of people in two different recovery meetings. According to Bill, "the 12:30 meeting-- filled with well-dressed nine-to-five types wedging a lunch hour meeting into their workday-- has a much higher wattage than the two o'clock, which is smaller and attended by a mix of out-of-work and newly sober day counters, artists, actors, writers, evening-shift waiters, and others with flexible schedules. Some of the most articulate, charismatic, persuasive people I have ever encountered are in the 12:30 meeting."
I even wrote next to the paragraph "... seems snobby."
Yet as I write this, there's a part of me wondering if maybe I'm also being a snob in my own way. In all fairness: Bill comes from a cushy suburban background, he works as a literary agent and lives in a world where social capital is determined by which bakeries you order from and what "important" authors of books that have little-to-nothing to do with real life you can quote. And let's be real: though he believes he is in dire straits after blowing all his liquid assets in a drug binge, it's abundantly clear from "Ninety Days" that he was never in any real danger of going hungry or homeless (though, like the rest of us, he was at risk of going completely insane.)
If I'm being fair here, considering the world Bill comes from, is it any wonder that he'd be a little out of touch and superficial? Is it any wonder he'd buckle under the pressure to keep up such shallow appearances, that he'd struggle to recognize valuable insight if it is delivered by a working class person and not someone in a three-piece suit with an affected Frasier accent?
I guess we're all just people at the end of the day, and sometimes we are all annoying in our own different ways, so I'll cut Bill some slack. The book still offers a lot of valuable insight about addiction recovery: the false-starts at sobriety, the cravings and thought processes that lead to relapse. I think I walked away with a deeper understanding of the fact that recovery is a process in which an addict has to discover their readiness to change over time. It's also a short read-- the publishers employed a lot of magic and trickery (smaller pages, larger type) to extend this book to nearly 200 pages-- and it kept my attention. So I say 3.5 stars.
So here goes...
I find the author a little pretentious and snobby. There, I said it. It feels good to get that out.
I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt while reading his first memoir (I thought the title, "Portrait of an Addict as Young Man," which is a call-back to a respected literary "classic," seemed like pretentious posturing, and I wondered if maybe I was just being unfair) as well as this second memoir... until I got to page 72, where he attempts to compare the quality of people in two different recovery meetings. According to Bill, "the 12:30 meeting-- filled with well-dressed nine-to-five types wedging a lunch hour meeting into their workday-- has a much higher wattage than the two o'clock, which is smaller and attended by a mix of out-of-work and newly sober day counters, artists, actors, writers, evening-shift waiters, and others with flexible schedules. Some of the most articulate, charismatic, persuasive people I have ever encountered are in the 12:30 meeting."
I even wrote next to the paragraph "... seems snobby."
Yet as I write this, there's a part of me wondering if maybe I'm also being a snob in my own way. In all fairness: Bill comes from a cushy suburban background, he works as a literary agent and lives in a world where social capital is determined by which bakeries you order from and what "important" authors of books that have little-to-nothing to do with real life you can quote. And let's be real: though he believes he is in dire straits after blowing all his liquid assets in a drug binge, it's abundantly clear from "Ninety Days" that he was never in any real danger of going hungry or homeless (though, like the rest of us, he was at risk of going completely insane.)
If I'm being fair here, considering the world Bill comes from, is it any wonder that he'd be a little out of touch and superficial? Is it any wonder he'd buckle under the pressure to keep up such shallow appearances, that he'd struggle to recognize valuable insight if it is delivered by a working class person and not someone in a three-piece suit with an affected Frasier accent?
I guess we're all just people at the end of the day, and sometimes we are all annoying in our own different ways, so I'll cut Bill some slack. The book still offers a lot of valuable insight about addiction recovery: the false-starts at sobriety, the cravings and thought processes that lead to relapse. I think I walked away with a deeper understanding of the fact that recovery is a process in which an addict has to discover their readiness to change over time. It's also a short read-- the publishers employed a lot of magic and trickery (smaller pages, larger type) to extend this book to nearly 200 pages-- and it kept my attention. So I say 3.5 stars.
January 22, 2018
Ninety Days is one alcoholic/addict's journey into sobriety trying to reach 90 days without drinking and using. The story begins when Bill Clegg finishes a residential treatment program. At this point in his life, he has lost everything - his romantic relationship with his partner Noah, his budding professional career at a literary agency, and strained many other friendships. After he graduates from treatment, he reluctantly begins attending 12 Step meetings three times a day and meeting with a sponsor. His story is a truthful encounter of victory and relapse. It takes him many tries before he can make the initial 3 months. Eventually, however, he does triumph and makes it to nearly 6 years until one fateful day in a hotel room when he relapses again. His story is painfully real and honest showing the powerful effects of addiction and how easy it is to succumb to pressure. He reminds us that pride is our greatest enemy because one controlled by the disease of addiction, it doesn't matter "how much time" someone has put in or what is happening in their life, relapse is always just one step away. I really appreciated Clegg's journey and I encourage anyone to read this book who is struggling with an addiction of any kind or who has a close friend or family member who is. It's a great reminder to be non-judgmental, patient, understanding, and to "do the work."
May 20, 2022
I have mixed feelings about this book, but I definitely enjoyed it. The only negative thing I have to say is that it seemed a little boring at times. But, at the same time, it also kept me intrigued. I was expecting a different type of book, as most addiction stories include violence and criminal elements. However, it was a unique story that shows addiction affects everyone, regardless of their social class. While reading the story, I kept thinking about how the author always managed to have a good deal of money and never struggled like I did in my addiction. However, that doesn't mean he didn't struggle at all. He was an emotional wreck and tortured himself with repeated relapses. Addicts struggle in different ways, but we can relate to each other in one way or another at the end of the day. Even though it felt like Bill and I were from two totally different worlds, I could still relate to the book. So, with that being said, I would definitely recommend this to anyone in recovery.
August 25, 2018
A compelling, frustrating and ultimately uplifting memoir of Bill Clegg’s battle against himself to get clean and sober. This is a road not travelled for me but one that everyone who enjoys a drink or some drugs recreationally will have considered, swerved or courted at some time/s or other.
I read the novel Bill Clegg wrote after this, so knew I would enjoy his writing (which is short-paragraphed and engaging). As an agent he knows how to write. One thing that did surprise/irk me was the sums involved in his New York habit - I am sure he would agree in the awful waste of his intake, although you have to be able to get it, to be able to blow it.
I read the novel Bill Clegg wrote after this, so knew I would enjoy his writing (which is short-paragraphed and engaging). As an agent he knows how to write. One thing that did surprise/irk me was the sums involved in his New York habit - I am sure he would agree in the awful waste of his intake, although you have to be able to get it, to be able to blow it.
August 7, 2019
I read this in a combination book with his memoirs of drug addiction, so it was nice to have the flow on from the horrific stories of crack cocaine addiction to the struggles of recovery. This was a lot more straightforward and felt a lot more 'how to' than the first (for obvious reasons), but it still engaged with his past and was beautifully written. I was engrossed the entire time, and I loved learning about some of the smaller aspects of drug recovery. I felt angry, shocked, sad and sympathetic all at once, it was really a great and worthwhile read.
August 21, 2017
Bill Clegg is a literary agent whose debut novel was long listed for the Man Booker Prize but before that, he was a crack head who was desperately trying to put 90 days of sobriety together - and mostly failing. He credits meetings and his fellow recovering addicts for his ultimate success and the stories in the book are illustrative of the strength of those relationships and the lure of addiction.
May 21, 2019
Bill Clegg's honesty is very appealing. Reading this makes me realise a few things about drug addiction. It is really really hard to give up drugs once you are addicted to them. The support of fellow addicts is paramount. Humans can convince themselves of any twisted type of reality if it suits them. I'm so glad the Bill Clegg managed to kick his addiction and go on to share his experiences. Keep writing Mr Clegg, you're really good at it.
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