Ann Marlowe is a smart, ambitious, cool, and intellectually curious person. Her memoir about her seven-year-long relationship with heroin during the mid-1990s in New York's Lower East Side is also many things. It's a dramatic tale of local haunts and great characters creating a culture in the downtown music and art scene. It's also a journey into addiction and through to the other side.
Marlowe moved to New York after graduating from Harvard with a BA in philosophy and a few years pursuing her PhD. Still, other interests called her, including the world of finance, business, and rock and roll which led her to Manhattan. Perhaps it was her combination of intellect and discipline that made her recognize that heroin, though deeply alluring, was also a long, slow, and dissatisfying lifestyle that may never kill you but would ultimately drain one's desire to care much. While holding a 'real job' with financial security, one where she adapts quickly to the corporate uniform including well-tailored suits and the classic Burberry raincoat worn with a sensible silk scarf around the neck, Marlowe also begins writing rock criticism for the alternative press such as the Village Voice.
The writing style of How to Stop Time is excellent; I can imagine her press coverage of Siouxsie and the Banshees, or Lydia Lunch, or whomever she actually wrote about because the book alternates between engrossing descriptions of the scene and contemplative inner thoughts about her own participation within the drug culture. She shares the shock and overwhelm of her first high, and the routine of her day-to-day drug scores while bringing the reader to nights at The Pyramid Club, and explaining the code of cool, within the music scene, as well as hanging with the regulars Vazacs, aka 7B Horseshoe Bar, El Sombrero and much-loved Max Fish, and her intimate and uncertain network of friends and lovers in the Lower East Side.
The book is a vivid drama of the LES when heroin was cheap and available in a neighborhood of emerging musicians, cheap rent, and ranging talents. Within the genre of drug memoirs, what is distinct about Marlowe is that she holds the reigns on her drug use while retaining her stability. Like the rock criticism she recalls writing then, she threads the narrative with knowledge and philosophizing about the attraction of self-destruction. "The chemistry of the drug is ruthless: it is designed to disappoint you. Yes, once in a while there's a night when you get exactly where you're trying to go. Magic. Then you chase that memory for a month." It clearly takes a toll on her physical body, but Marlowe's innate interest in physical strength and her natural competitiveness at work motivate her to use the rushes and lows as a means to engage and seek out the meaning and company of others. Of her childhood she writes "By the time I was eleven or twelve I was initiated into the reigning mania. Daily, I made my bed and did light dusting." Marlowe's narrator, the bright hard-working kid who becomes the magna cum laude philosophy student at Harvard, gives a particular rhythm to this heroin memoir that is a time capsule of a cultural moment, and a great pensée on drug use and the destructive urge to stall-out rather than shimmer in one's own life.
"Heroin is an urban drug, an accessory of life lived in nights, under artificial light, among indifferent crowds always in a hurry."
The book is almost 300 pages but Marlowe writes in the heroic voice of a champion winning against the odds, and this pulls the story forward. A friend loaned me this book off his bookshelf, a signed first edition, so I was careful to read it as soon as possible in order to return it, but once I began reading, I did not want to put the book down.
"The life heroin bestows is not less painful, just less profound; not less stressful, just less surprising. And while dope does stop time, it also stops beauty. After I quit, it gradually came to me that the messy stuff I'd been screening out with dope–the nitty-gritty of having a relationship, constructing friendships, getting along with acquaintances, meeting new people–the stuff that hadn't seemed worth the trouble, the stuff that had to be controlled so I could focus on the important matters, was in fact the only material life presents."