Drinking from the Stream

by Richard Scott Sacks

Part action-adventure novel, part political thriller based on historical facts, Drinking from the Stream is set during 1971 and 1972, a time of violent upheaval when the Vietnam War and the Chinese Cultural Revolution marked a generation. The action leapfrogs from Louisiana to London, Paris, and Tanzania in a coming-of-age tale of international youth colliding with post-independence Africa.



Jake Ries, a twenty-two-year-old Nebraska farm boy turned oil roughneck, turns fugitive when he unintentionally kills a homicidal White supremacist on an oil platform in the Gulf of Mexico. On the run, he meets Karl Appel, a restless Oxford dropout and former anti-war activist struggling with his own personal demons. Together they throw caution to the wind and plunge into the Ethiopian and East African hinterland, where they discover that dictatorship and mass murder are facts of life.

326 pages, Paperback

Published March 11, 2025

About the author

RICHARD SCOTT SACKS is author of the action-adventure novel and political thriller DRINKING FROM THE STREAM. He is co-author of the award-winning PARAGUAY: THE PERSONALIST LEGACY. An accomplished US diplomat with decades overseas, Mr. Sacks holds Masters Degrees in International Relations and International Economics from The Johns Hopkins University School of Advanced International Studies (SAIS) and in National Security Strategy from National War College. He has reported from Asunción, Paraguay for The Miami Herald. He began his writing career as a reporter for The Middlesex News in Framingham, Massachusetts and The Associated Press in Detroit, Michigan.

Reviews

[Book Reviewer · Rating 4 out of 5]

Drinking from the Stream follows two young men on the run from themselves. Jake, a Nebraska kid turned Louisiana roughneck, flees the guilt of a killing on an oil rig. Karl, a disillusioned American student at Oxford, escapes the wreckage of the sixties and a painful relationship. Their paths cross, and they drift through Ethiopia, Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi and Tanzania in the early seventies, bumping into coups, massacres and love affairs as they go. The book stretches from the Gulf of Mexico to the Great Lakes region of Africa and on to Chile, and it ties private coming-of-age stories to state violence and postcolonial chaos.

I felt like the writing landed with real weight. The prose has muscle and rhythm, and it keeps a steady pace through long stretches of travel and talk. Scenes on the road, in trucks, on ferries, and in cheap guesthouses felt vivid to me. Dialogues carry a lot of the load. Characters argue about politics, race, faith, and guilt, and the conversations feel relaxed on the surface but tense underneath. I could sense the author’s years in Africa in the way a village lane or a border crossing appears in a few sharp strokes. The flip side is density. Historical detail piles up. I stayed invested in Jake and Karl, and in Beatrice, Bridget and the others, because the book lets them be flawed, funny and sometimes selfish, not just mouthpieces for a lesson.

The novel looks at racism and antisemitism inside Jake’s own story, then places him in countries where mass killing happens out in the open and on a terrifying scale. It plays with the dream of revolution and tears it apart. Young Westerners arrive full of ideals, then watch soldiers and militias burn those ideals along with villages. The book keeps asking who gets to walk away and who does not. Jake carries private guilt from the rig into places where guilt comes in rivers. Karl drags his Vietnam-era anger into a world where America is almost irrelevant. I felt anger, shame, and sadness while I read, and also a stubborn hope, because the story keeps circling back to friendship, loyalty, and small acts of courage. The novel does not pretend to solve anything. It simply puts you close to the fire and forces you to look.

I would recommend Drinking from the Stream to readers who enjoy historical fiction with grit, to people curious about East Africa in the early seventies, and to anyone who likes character-driven travel stories with real moral stakes. The book asks for patience and a strong stomach. It pays that back with a rich sense of place, big emotions, and a set of memorable characters.

[Next Best Read · Rating 5 out of 5]

Drinking from the Stream is an ambitious, deeply considered novel that blends personal reckoning with historical awareness in a way that feels earned and authentic. Richard Scott Sacks writes with confidence and authority, grounding the book in lived experience and intellectual curiosity, and that combination gives the narrative a strong sense of credibility. The novel asks the reader to stay engaged emotionally and intellectually, and it rewards that attention with layered perspectives on responsibility, identity, and moral consequence. A major strength is the book’s scope. Sacks embraces complexity, whether political, cultural, or personal, and he trusts the reader to keep up. The conversations feel purposeful, the settings are vividly realized, and the characters are shaped by the forces around them, deeply connected to the era and its pressures. The result is a novel that feels substantial and thoughtful, one that lingers because it challenges easy conclusions. At times, the novel’s density may slow momentum for readers who prefer a faster progression through events. Still, this richness is part of the book’s appeal, especially for readers who enjoy fiction that engages with the real world in a meaningful way. Drinking from the Stream is a confident and intelligent work that combines storytelling with reflection, offering a reading experience that is immersive, demanding, and rewarding.

[Ava · Rating 5 out of 5]

Some novels travel outward; Drinking from the Stream travels inward while crossing borders. Richard Scott Sacks places two young men on the road at a moment when history offers no safe detours. What begins with a personal rupture slowly widens into a reckoning with power, ideology, and consequence. The book’s strength lies in how lived experience replaces theory: lectures give way to checkpoints, arguments yield to silence, and maps stop being abstract. Sacks writes with control, allowing landscapes and conversations to accumulate meaning rather than announce it. The result is a thoughtful novel that respects the reader’s intelligence and patience. It is not about answers, but about how understanding changes once events are no longer distant. Readers who value serious fiction grounded in real places and moral tension will find it quietly absorbing.