Milk of Paradise: A History of Opium

by Lucy Inglis

Poppy tears, opium, heroin, humankind has been in thrall to the “Milk of Paradise” for millennia. The latex of papaver somniferum is a bringer of sleep, of pleasurable lethargy, of relief from pain—and hugely addictive. A commodity without rival, it is renewable, easy to extract, transport, and refine, and subject to an insatiable global demand. No other substance in the world is as simple to produce or as profitable. It is the basis of a gargantuan industry built upon a shady underworld, but ultimately it is an agricultural product that lives many lives before it reaches the branded blister packet, the intravenous drip, or the scorched and filthy spoon. Many of us will end our lives dependent on it. In Milk of Paradise, acclaimed cultural historian Lucy Inglis takes readers on an epic journey from ancient Mesopotamia to modern America and Afghanistan, from Sanskrit to pop, from poppy tears to smack, from morphine to today’s synthetic opiates. It is a tale of addiction, trade, crime, sex, war, literature, medicine, and, above all, money. And, as this ambitious, wide-ranging, and compelling account vividly shows, the history of opium is our history and it speaks to us of who we are.

Genres: History, Nonfiction, Drugs, Science, Audiobook, Medicine, Health

464 pages, Kindle Edition

First published August 9, 2018

Reviews

[Diana · Rating 2 out of 5]

Milk of Paradise: A History of Opium [2018] by Lucy Inglis - ★★1/2

This book was my most disappointing read of this August, and I am very interested in the subject matter. Lucy Inglis, a historian, traces the history of opium from its presumed cultivation in ancient Mesopotamia to the present day situation in Afghanistan and opium's current synthetic modifications. Although the book provides a more or less good overview of the history of opium, it is still the victim of its own ambition - Lucy Inglis's account is rushed, overwhelming and surprisingly chaotic given how organised and chronological she undoubtedly wanted the book to be.

Lucy Inglis divides her book into three parts: (i) "a history of the opium poppy, its earliest relationships with mankind"; (ii) "the isolation of morphine from opium and the revolutionary political and scientific changes of the nineteenth century"; and (iii) the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries developments, "from the first years of commercially available heroin to the present-day US opioid crisis trade...and present heroin wars" [Lucy Inglis, 2018: xxi]. The book sounds organised, but it may very soon overwhelm the reader with its scope, details, examples and digressions. The author jumps frequently from topic to topic and from event to event, focusing on some random examples at times, before quickly moving to the next period in time. For example, touching briefly on the Graeco-Roman empire and what poppy might have symbolised there, the author then talks of Islam, before concluding later on that "pain theory is central to the history of opium" [Inglis, 2018: 43]. It is as though Inglis is in some great haste and wants to make her observations on many time periods and seemingly random events (from Marco Polo to ancient anaesthetics) because of the fear of leaving out something important. However, the result of this "effort" is that only the randomness of her observations and her lack of prioritisation shine through.

To be fair, China is one country Lucy Inglis does focus on - but that is to be expected. "Opium is associated inexplicably with the history of China" [Lucy Inglis, 2018: 26], proclaims the author as though divulging to us some higher, unknown truth. A very brief history of the Silk Road is then given before the author talks of the East India Company and about the rise of Hong Kong. After dealing with that period rather quickly and oddly, the author then wastes no time talking about the laudanum epidemic in Britain (among Romantic poets, of course); about the invention of the hypodermic needle in the nineteenth century; and about the present heroin wars (organised crime implications). It does not help that Inglis's language is factual and hardly engaging, making her account often a rather dull read.

Though well-researched and well-intended, Milk of Paradise is still a book that is more forgettable than its fascinating topic warrants. The book ends up to be a very rushed and cursory account of the history of opium, some of which the reader may have heard of already and another part that is too flimsily presented for the reader to read carefully and be engrossed.

[Laura · Rating 3 out of 5]

From BBC radio 4 - Book of the Week:
Derived from the juice of the poppy, it relieves our pain and cures our insomnia. It may even inspire great art. It also causes addiction, misery and death. Historian Lucy Inglis' new book explores man's long and complex relationship with opium.

"In mankind's search for temporary oblivion," writes Inglis, "opiates possess a special allure. Since Neolithic times, opium has made life seem, if not perfect, then tolerable for millions. However unlikely it seems at this moment, many of us will end our lives dependent on it."

A turning point in the history of opium was the invention in 17th Century England of a new form of the drug. Two key figures in this development were Christopher Wren - not just an architect, but an anatomist as well - and the physician Thomas Sydenham, who mixed opium with saffron, cloves, cinnamon and sherry to create laudanum. It was easy to swallow, easy on the stomach, and easy to dispense over the counter.

"A new age in drug-taking had begun..."

Milk of Paradise is written by Lucy Inglis and abridged by Anna Magnusson.

The reader is Anita Vettesse.

The producer is David Jackson Young.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b0bf...

[Stephen · Rating 4 out of 5]

detailed book charting mans history with opium from the ancients to modern day versions from the poppy plant and man made versions. learnt a lot and found it very interesting. well worth reading

[Simon · Rating 4 out of 5]

Listened to on audiobook.

A quite comprehensive history of opium, opiates, opioids, and addiction thereto, starting at its roots in early civilisations and panning into modern opioids and opioid analogs.

Along the way, we were given a lot of context about the geopolitics of trading empires, states, khanates, etc. of the time in various commodities such as silk and tea, which, while not directly linked to opium, was an added learning opportunity about the general goings-on at the time.

I was glad to see (hear) mention of the likes of IG Farben, Bayer, Hoffmann-La Roche, Pervitin, etc. in the context of modern pharmaceutical developments and advancements. The author gave a satisfactory overview of the 'birth' of heroin, and I learned a lot about the British involvement in opiate development; I had previously only been aware of the German/Austrian/Swiss component, and of course the Chinese, Indian, and Afghan. (Another surprising tidbit was Japan and Japanese-occupied Korea's involvement, as well as how important the World Wars were to the production of morphine and vice versa).

There was a smooth (obligatory) flow into the Beat generation and Junk culture, with honorable mentions of Bourroughs and Thompson. However, this was also the point where I began to raise an eyebrow at some of the writing. The author declares, rightly, that opiate and other CNS depressant use at that time (diamorphine had been synthesised at that point, as well as barbiturates and certain benzodiazepines) was used primarily as an escape from an often stressful reality, with good information about American Vietnam vets' overseas 'addictions'. There was, however, not enough on the second half of that particular story -- she remarked on the surprisingly low relapse and dependency rates of returning GIs, but didn't sufficienty expand on the 'why' of it all. In a book largely exploring the nature and reasons for addiction and dependencies, I certainly expected at least a passing sentence or two about the importance of environment as a factor.

In addition, I took issue with her statement (paraphrased) that female opiate addicts were usually turned onto the habit by external influences, mainly male power figures, for sexual reasons (to make them more docile) and the connection between opiate use and prostitution. While I wouldn't deny there exists a connection, I think it's absurdly reductive to claim this as a 'main' reason for use among an entire demographic.

Aside from that, going into the times of now, I was glad the author spent as much on the principle of harm reduction as she did. Of course it was expected, but nonetheless she gave a good number of salient examples of government policies and societal success stories. However, the added asterisk that 'we would not likely find similar success in other, more varied communities' seemed too strong a point to make without any concrete backing.

I was really surprised that she went as deep into the modern status quo as she did. I expected, and got, a mention of darknet markets, but it's obvious she did more than surface research on even this part. It was one thing to hear about the Silk Road (V1) and Ross Ulbricht, as well as Bitcoin and all that, but it was kind of shocking to read (hear) about specific DNMs and communities like AlphaBay and Hansa, /r/opiates (though not by name, pretty obvious what she was referring to), and other relatively 'niche' corners of the Internet. With the level of detail she went into, I was almost expecting a shoutout to /u/traceyh415, Monero, or Dredd.

A good chunk was also dedicated to Purdue and its monopolisation of pharmaceutical opioids and (arguable) 'creation' of the American opioid epidemic. She did get some points right, namely that OxyContin was heavily lobbied for and doctors began overprescribing, that post-regulation Americans more frequently turned to street heroin type-3 and type-4, as well as the "surprising" prevalence of addiction among rich, upper-class housewives, but failed to recognise her own contradictions in the latter statement.

Then came this sentence, regarding the rejected doctor-shoppers and cold-coppers turning to street heroin (originating in Afghanistan and South America) for a cheap fix: "America was under siege by the Middle East and Mexico." Come on now. If anything, America was indentured into 'opioid servitude' domestically, and from many angles (capitalistic, harm reductive, etc.) the users simply turned to the cheapest, most secure method of procurement, which just happened to be overseas due to different cultivation laws. That hardly constitutes a siege - just a market correction. What else would you expect? (As a side note, I think the average reader might get from this book an inflated notion of the effectiveness of methadone/suboxone, buprenorphine, etc. as opposed to controlled heroin usage facilities. Also, in all the talks about overdose, I don't think I heard a single mention of naloxone [Narcan]. Actually, I recall her talking about it near the end of the last chapter.)

Overall, the book provides a delightfully comprehensive and well-researched views on opium, from the poppy to morphine to heroin to fentanyl and carfentanil, as well as the historical, cultural, and neurochemical impacts it had throughout the anthropocene. I wouldn't take this as a reliable source as a whole -- although I can say from my own observations and experiences that the latter half of the book is (adequetely) accurate, I can't say the same of the historical, geopolitical parts focused on in the first half. Some parts of the latter half were almost laughably reductionist, and maybe somebody more versed in the history of opium and morphine trade can find some similar flaws in the first half. Or maybe it's really accurate and well-researched. I just couldn't tell you. But as a whole, it's comprehensive in scale, adequate in scope, and sufficiently accessible to most interested audiences. One final minor note is that she repeats herself a lot, often when re-visiting concepts touched upon earlier. Although it serves a purpose (reminding the reader), it was frequent enough to hinder immersion at times: I found myself saying "Haven't I heard this sentence before?" quite often. But that's neither here nor there.

[Shanti · Rating 2 out of 5]

Milk of Paradise is a history of opium, a drug I have no connection with. Lucy Inglis does a marvelous job of linking the flower and the product to all kinds of history, following the trend of books that are a history of some particular thing. And opium is a great candidate for such a history, because it has, and continues to have, incredible economic and political connections.
The legacy of the Opium War, for instance, means that China has a utterly draconian approach to drugs. I was in China a few weeks ago, and at the airport, there were these ridiculous, yet sincere ‘don’t smuggle drugs’ PSA’s, which were more like soap opera’s. As I recall through a fug of jetlag, Peter, a drug smuggler, impregnates multiple woman and gets them to move heroin into the country for him. But because there is more than one hundred grams of it, one of the women is court, and taken to prison. Leaving aside the unfairness of this, the opium wars basically created the cities of Hong Kon and Guangzhou as they are today. There’s an island on Guangzhou, created by digging a trench to let the Pearl River through, which is where the foreigners were allowed to live. When I visited it, the walls shone with he flashes of wedding and fashion photography shoots taking place there; after reading Milk of Paradise, I know that those solid stone walls were built with drug money. I find this interesting.
Writing a history of this sort is an incredibly demanding task, and my perception is that Lucy Inglis can handle the research but can’t handle putting it together. Each chapter—no, each paragraph—stands alone, without flow. Fact fact fact, date, statistic, is the general rhythm of the writing. This is a history of places opium has been—most places, as it turns out—but is largely devoid of compassion or the human scale of the problem. Addicts are inevitable. Rehab is totally ignored. It felt like there were a lot of things missing. For instance, instead of leaping straight into the Ancient Egyptians, Inglis could have started with a single story about a drug addict, or a base level explanation of what opium actually does to one’s brain. Sure, one of those things is more biography or sociology, and the other is biology, but those of us who didn’t learn very much about drugs in school would like to know! Instead Inglis focuses too narrowly on writing A History, and thus misses the opportunity to orient opium in a larger context.
Mil of Paradise is also grouped loosely chronologically, which I felt was a mistake. Because opium is so utterly prevalent, this turns it into a history of the world, burdened with the knowledge that while opium was in cough remedies in the US it was probably also being introduced to monastic orders in Latvia or something. Instead, Inglis could have chosen a more interpretive framework like ‘power’ ‘money’ ‘dependency’ or something to link uses of opium at different times to their role in that society. Of course this would also have lent itself to omission but it would have been better. Those categories were used to a degree, but because they were untidily slapped on a chronological framework, the effect was entirely lost.
Opium has been there for most of humanity’s failures and some of its victories. It has made its presence known, so that it is appreciated all over the world, and also reviled. I wish I could say the same of this book.

[Andrea Zerbini · Rating 2 out of 5]

“In mankind’s search for temporary oblivion, opiates possess a special allure. For a short time, there is neither pain, nor fear of pain. Since Neolithic times, opium has made life seem if not perfect, then tolerable, for millions. However unlikely it seems at this moment, many of us will end our lives dependent upon it”.

Quoted in a recent New Yorker book review, the beginning to this book intrigued me: as a cancer patient, I am among those who are likely to end their lives dependent on opiates and opioids (the former, we learn in this volume, are naturally derived from the flowering of the opium poppy and comprise morphine and heroin, while the latter include a swath of synthetic substances such as the infamous oxycodone and fentanyl). Until reading Inglis’s latest work I had no knowledge whatsoever about opium beyond what might be known from movies and popular culture (which mostly relates to heroin production, trade, distribution and consumption).

I emerge from this book having learnt new things, but also vastly disappointed at the amount of information that I was expecting to find here, and didn’t. As it stands, the book is, by and large, a diachronic history of opium trade (and, later on, heroin’s and other opiates’) mixed with a brush-stroke history of opium’s role in medicine and some reflections about addiction (often treated tout-court, not just addiction to opium and its derivatives).

For a book just over 380 pages long, Inglis’ decision to write a global history with a chronological approach does not deliver the goods, forcing her to move from one part to the world to the other, from trade to medicine and back again in the space of a few lines. As a result, even her best sections, such as the one talking about the first synthesising of heroin (which, we learn, was achieved by chemists at Bayer in 1897 during the same fortnight when they also synthesised aspirin), are rushed in a page or two. At the same time, to provide context, Inglis sometimes ends up adding information that, albeit interesting, could have been left out to allow for some more discussion about opium. One example will suffice: across the book, we find out more about the ‘Gin Craze’ that gripped Britain between the late-17th and mid-18th centuries (by which time people across England and Wales consumed 1 gallon of gin per head) than about opium dens.

Reader beware: the book is also riddled with inaccuracies that range from the level that should have been spotted by a good editor (e.g. naming Marco Polo’s fellow-prisoner and writer of his Travels ‘Rusticello’ instead of ‘Rustichello’; or calling one of New York’s Five Families ‘Gambini’ instead of ‘Gambino’) to more serious, historical ones. As an ancient historian, I was dismayed to find Inglis talk about Roman coinage in 330 BC Şuhut, the ancient town of Synnada in modern Turkey, which the Romans did not have any control on until the late-2nd century BC. Similarly, Inglis apparently believes the Greco-Roman town of Byzantium, modern-day Istanbul, to have become part of the Roman Empire only under Constantine (AD 306-337), that is over 500 years after it had been given the title of ‘free city’ by Rome, and 250 since it had been fully incorporated into a Roman province under emperor Vespasian (AD 69-79). In later sections of the book, my subject-specific knowledge is not on a level to allow me to spot such mistakes, but it is clear the book should be approached with caution.

With all the caveats mentioned above still holding true, Inglis is at her strongest in her book’s last 100 pages, which cover roughly the period between WW1 and 21st-century addiction to opioids. Her description of the rise of Afghanistan to biggest opium poppy producer in the world as effected by the geopolitical struggles of the Cold War and the aftermath of 09/11 is convincing and well documented. I also greatly enjoyed the chapter entitled “Heroid chic, HIV and generation Oxy”, where consequences, reflections (and self-reflections, such as those of Jean Cocteau) on addiction are looked at if not with a certain sympathy, then certainly in a light that is free of judgement. As Inglis concludes, “addictions of all kinds surround us, making us neither good, nor bad, nor less human. They make us who we are”. Since the dawn of human civilisation, opium has been there beside us, with its ability to offer relief from often terrible physical and psychological pain, whilst carrying a heavy load of its own. As for many things in life, opium, too, is a double-edged sword.

[Sarah Tregear · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a beautiful book both to look at and to read. The history of opium is the history of the world. Well written and researched so even those of us who are not historians or scientists can understand. You learn so much not just about opium, but about trade, wars, corruption and humanity. There are parts of the book where you think you’d like more detail but you can understand why it will have been edited down to keep the book informative and not lose the reader in detail but it’s full of fascinating facts.

Towards the end of the book where we get to more recent events is where Lucy Inglis writing really excels, and the human element comes to the fore. The search for oblivion to take away the stresses of life has not changed since Neolithic times to this very day, our relationship with the poppy is complex, it’s both good and evil, and shows no sign of abating.

Recommended 4.5/10

[Sarah Furger · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fascinating. Inglis has written a book that is thoroughly researched and deftly crafted. It is informative and empathetic. It’s a history of opium, but also a history of humanity at its best and worst. Really well done.

[Michael Flick · Rating 2 out of 5]

Cursory narrative history of opium, with detours into gin, AIDS, and whatever else might catch the author’s wandering fancy. Very little about how it specifically acts or causes addiction. Not a textbook, a coherent history, or a tale. Not much of anything…

[kagami]

1 star for the audio version I listened to on the BBC radio 4 Book of the Week programme. I have not read the book. The narration is fine, it's the contents I have a problem with.
I don't really understand the point of this radio-book. It's a random amalgamation of a partial historical overview of opium and its use since ancient Greek times, plus some (possibly) historical snippets and stories relating to opium, heroin and occasionally other non-synthetic drugs that took place mainly in the US and its army in Vietnam. Up to episode 4 of 5 there's only talk of opium, then suddenly heroin comes to the stage and seems to be used as a form of opium, but the relationship between the two is never explained. I'm not a specialist in this field (quite frankly, I'd be surprised if the book is aimed at any sort of specialist), so I was hoping I would learn at least one useful thing from this one and a half hour narration, e.g. what's the connection between opium and heroin, or how heroin is derived from opium - but no joy.
Maybe I wasn't listening carefully enough? There was mention of drug cooks brought in from (or to?) Hong Kong to turn the lower-grade Thai opium into something like the higher-grade Afghanistan opium. Maybe that's where opium becomes heroin? Anyway. I've lost interest.
The only remotely curious thing I learned was that, apparently, an opium-containing syrup called Godfrey's Cordial was given to infants in Britain, the USA and elsewhere in the not-too-distant past, and that many of the famous British writers and poets of the 19th century were opium addicts as they were regularly self-medicating with laudanum which contains a large percentage of opium.
In summery, this is a radio-book mostly about opium, but don't expect any talk of the Opium Wars, because there isn't, except as a passing note on the background of Chinese immigrants to San Francisco.
So there. I'd say don't bother listening to this, find something more useful to do with your time. Like unloading the dishwasher to the marginally more educational sound of Radio 1.

[Bettie · Rating 3 out of 5]

BOTW

https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b0bf...

Description: Derived from the juice of the poppy, it relieves our pain and cures our insomnia. It may even inspire great art. It also causes addiction, misery and death. Historian Lucy Inglis' new book explores man's long and complex relationship with opium.

"In mankind's search for temporary oblivion," writes Inglis, "opiates possess a special allure. Since Neolithic times, opium has made life seem, if not perfect, then tolerable for millions. However unlikely it seems at this moment, many of us will end our lives dependent on it."

A turning point in the history of opium was the invention in 17th Century England of a new form of the drug. Two key figures in this development were Christopher Wren - not just an architect, but an anatomist as well - and the physician Thomas Sydenham, who mixed opium with saffron, cloves, cinnamon and sherry to create laudanum. It was easy to swallow, easy on the stomach, and easy to dispense over the counter.

Beautifully read by Anita Vettesse and an interesting subject.

[Hannah Elizabeth · Rating 4 out of 5]

An impressively vast coverage of the history of opium, taking you from the ancient Mediterranean to the current Oxy/fentanyl/carfentanil crisis in the US.

Not intended for the reader who is mostly interested in the latter - the majority of the book concerns itself with ancient trade routes, and the rise of colonialism and imperialism. I still found it very interesting, just not what I expected.

Opium has a very extensive history, however the book does feel tangential at times, and sort of de-rails to explore microcosm histories of various places. Not necessarily a flaw but made it all a bit disjointed.

This would have been an absolutely mammoth task to research and compile/organise however!! Would still recommend, I feel I learnt a lot and most of it was fascinating.

[Samantha · Rating 2 out of 5]

1.5*
Oh my god, this book is like your adhd fuelled internet rabbit hole at 3am. Do you want to learn not only about opium but literally everything? This is the book for you.

Listening to the audiobook was stressful! I felt like I had to focus so hard and even then I got lost in all the unrelated topics that poured in. If a random man in 1856 looked at opium it’s included in this book. It’s too much.

This book could’ve used major editing, and while I’m impressed with the research that must have gone in - it read like a textbook. Also I was very confused that opium in modern day was hardly touched on.

I was not a fan of this book.

[Jerome McCoy · Rating 3 out of 5]

it was cool

[Tom Brennan · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book is exactly what it represents itself to be, a history of opium. Beginning in pre-historic days and culminating about 2015, it traces the flow/use/development of opium as a medicine and drug. It is an academic work, but not so academic as to bore you to tears. But you do have to force your attention from time to time. As you would expect, with such a wide-ranging work it touches on many things - Asia, China, Afghanistan, the British opium wars, colonialism, smuggling techniques through the centuries, organized crime, medical advances, the war on drugs, etc. It does not, however, drill down deeply into any of them.

Aside from its wide-ranging and academic tone, its primary weakness is a repetive, harsh view of the war on drugs. And, surprisingly, the author's tone here is not substantiated by any papers or proof, it is rather emotionally vitriolic. I would welcome an intelligent discussion of the war on drugs, but I do not welcome an opinionated, unsourced attack, especially in what is clearly an academic work. It is a serious flaw.

All in all, of limited but not zero profit.

[JMJ · Rating 1 out of 5]

Badly-researched, poorly-written junk.

I am afraid to say I simply couldn’t complete this book. I had to stop just after Inglis describes all Afghani tribespeople as “backwards-looking” following close on the heels of claiming they “an almost completely non-literate society”.

The very first criticism is that this book’s editor Georgina Morley is evidently in the wrong job. As pointed out by many others, Inglis uses words that don’t exist, the turns of phrase are juvenile and there are frequent spelling and printing mistakes. Perhaps she shouldn’t bandy about accusations of not being literate...

The second is that this book is about 1/8th about opium and it’s products. Inglis rants on about various aspects of history on which she evidently has done incredibly poor research (statements such as 75% of all Chinese females in San Francisco at one point were either prostitutes or involved in the opium trade - no reference to back any of this up). I think her aim is to get some sort of overal chronological history of all things incidental to the opium trade such as the Gin Craze and the causes of suicide of people only vaguely linked to the industry. If so she definitely succeeds, the book being a set of piecemeal paragraphs on some aspect of history that are then revisited one hundred pages further on in the book to reiterate the same information (and prove the scarcity of research).

The third is the the fact that this book could have been so interesting and a real eye-opening account of the intracacies of opium through time and Inglis choses not to explore any of that. Instead it is sensationalist (the many detours into urban legend) and a poor reflection of others who have attempted popular history, with no regard at all to detailed and factual historical research.

[Kathy · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was a heavy read, somewhat encyclopedic, covering the use and commodization of opium from the beginning of civilization in ancient Mesopotamia to modern times. Full disclosure, the book cover art and the seductive title "Milk of Paradise," drew me in, but at times I wanted to stop reading due to the dryness of the writing.

Conversely, there are harrowing and fascinating details of the use and development of the drug in war as medical treatment advanced. I was surprised by the imperialism employed when fertile production areas on the globe were usurped for monetary reasons, leaving those who previously grew the crop more impoverished than they already were. Trade wars, battles on the sea, and slave labor punctuate these excerpts. There are stories of the US involvement encouraging cultivation in certain areas in order to use those involved in production and distribution as conduits to spy networks. Usage by mothers who also gave "quack syrups" to their children left me slack-jawed, but one has to remember this was before the addictive aspect of opium usage was realized.

This book reveals surprising stories of wealthy rulers from ancient times to respectable literary and cultural figures whose lives were cut short due to addiction and overdose. It is hard to imagine after reading this account of the cultivation, use and distribution of opium and its derivatives that it would ever not be a part of our culture and its flawed fabric.

[N.S. Ford · Rating 2 out of 5]

This review first appeared on my blog - https://nsfordwriter.com - on 11th January 2020.

Papaver somniferum (opium poppy) has a long and fascinating history. This book covers the relationship between humanity and opiates, from cultivation in ancient times until the heroin trade today.

Although the topic is very interesting, I found the book difficult to read. The writing style was not engaging enough for me. I don’t often read a ‘proper’ history book, so maybe the genre is the issue. However, annoyingly long paragraphs, clunky sentences and a lot of statistics made it feel like a chore to read sometimes.

I did admire the depth of the author’s research and the range of issues explored. I did learn a lot and I now have a better understanding of how opium is linked to so many other aspects of our history. There are some well-chosen images too. Ultimately, however, I didn’t enjoy the book as much as I anticipated. I thought it was going to be a cultural history, perhaps with more of a focus on the arts, but it’s really about economics and politics (which I can’t pretend to understand well).

I’m not sure who the target audience is. It’s not a book for beginners in history, as there are many references which the author expects you to know. On the other hand, it’s not a book for history buffs either, as there are too many bits of general history which you’re guaranteed to know already. Probably it will be of most use to students of the history of medicine.

[Tim Atkinson · Rating 3 out of 5]

I heard this first read as BBC Radio Four's book of the week. I was fascinated by the subject matter but rather put off by what I thought was a rather brutal attempt to abridge the book for broadcast. It was surprisingly disjointed, stop-start, chopping and changing ad if the author - having fed you a morsel of information - immediately lost interest and turned to something new. It was tapas. I wanted the full meal. So I decided to read the book.
Obviously things are better. There's more here to get you teeth into and there's plenty of real interest. Ironically a lot of this didn't make the abridged radio broadcast as it's incidental to the main book. But these asides - the shocking use by German pharmaceutical companies of Jewish concentration camp inmates, the extent of CIA collaboration with Italian Mafioso, the origin of the word 'coolie' - are suddenly and vividly portrayed in a style the main narrative lacks. It's the difference between a serious orchestral concert and a light instrumental encore, or between a old master studio painting and an al fresco sketch. Obviously the subject matter, the scope of the book, the scholarship demands a certain seriousness of purpose. But it could entertain a little as well as inform. And the author is obviously capable of the latter as well as the former.

[David Ward · Rating 3 out of 5]

Milk of Paradise: A History of Opium by Lucy Inglis (Pegasus Books 2019) (362.293) (3387).

This is quite a comprehensive work. It reads in part like a typical history text, reciting countless dates, countries, and characters that have played roles in the backstory surrounding this legendary poppy.

The book is broadly divided into three sections, one each on the topics of opium, morphine, and heroin.

Having read fairly widely from the non-academic literature on opium and its derivatives, I was impressed with the scope of author Lucy Inglis' project. She successfully melded a great number of widely disparate threads in drafting this narrative. I did not, however, discern any hint of pioneering research or of any original insights offered by the author.

Perhaps this volume is best seen as a simple survey of all of the extant bodies of work on the topic. My rating: 7/10, finished 9/8/19 (3387).

[Robert · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is the most complete history of opium I've read to date. While Inglis beats the historical horse, especially that of Afghanistan, for too long and in too much detail, the long view provided insights seldom seen in more finger-wagging accounts. Inglis even has a section on opium in the Philippines, with stories I hadn't read before. She does trip lightly through Philippine history, especially the complexities of the American invasion, but most interesting was her claim that in the mid 1800s San Fernando, capital of Pampanga, was a major government sanctioned opium distribution and use center. It was actually created or sponsored by the Manila Spanish government as a way to keep the Chinese population passive while the leaders became even more wealthy. I'll be checking up on that. One unfortunate cost of listening to audiobook versions of books is that they never read out the bibliography or the index. I'll figure it out.

[Maureen · Rating 4 out of 5]

What a wonderfully researched and written history of opium.
I learned a lot, including the fact that it was the British selling Indian opium to the Chinese that led to its widespread use and addiction there. After this, Mao was the only leader to successfully eradicate the opium trade in any country, ever.
Under the Nazis, German drug company Bayer paid the government 200 Reichsmarks each for women prisoners on whom to experiment with drugs they were developing, every one of them died.
In the Korean War half of all US servicemen were on drugs including heroin. Strangely she reports that in that war 75% of wounds suffered by New Zealand soldiers were found to be self-inflicted.
Later the US sent teams to Mexico to teach local farmers how to cultivate opium so they had supplies of morphine for their troops in WWII. After the war they sent teams back to try to eradicate it, but by then it was too late.
Ain't colonialism grand?

[Neil Kenealy · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a book about opium but it's also about many other things as well. It's covers exploration, colonization, slavery, war, medicine, trade in order to explain one of the oldest traded commodities. It gives history of opium from the ancients to modern day. Temporary oblivion from reality is what opium gives humans and we've been using it for thousands of years.

It tracks the development of the poppy plant up to synthetic versions. Some parts could be considered too long and digressive. There was a chapter on Hong Kong but it took about 30 pages to get there. But it does give a good description of how brutal and determined the European powers were to dominate the world. When it gets to the 20th century Public Health, International Relations, Law and Culture and Organized Crime are all covered.

The last chapter on heroin is the best because it gave the fullest explanation yet of the current status of heroin and opioids without getting bogged down in the war on drugs and being judgemental. The scientific discoveries were really well described especially the development of the pharmacological and medical industries. It takes a scientific historical approach which is easier to digest and refreshing from the relentless reporting on our news of the latest drug death or drug crime which is only scratching at the surface.

In the afterword, there's a great description of the harvest of the poppy - how the whole family gets involved. How the poppies are only visible for a few days so not easy for the authorities to spot. This is one of the many many observations in the book.

There are well chosen images to elucidate the main points - especially the maps and trade routes.

[Rudi · Rating 4 out of 5]

Als geschiedenisboek zou ik het 4,5 sterren geven. ( ik heb hier een een zwarte bak met sterren , ik weet niet hoeveel erin zitten : ) als boek over de plant en over de (uit) werking op mensen 3,5 sterren , heel veel ben ik niet te weten gekomen over de impact van de stoffen in deze plant , ….. het boek heeft mij wel wat doen nadenken over goed en slecht , als men tandpijn , andere pijn , of als men moet geopereerd worden is het een geschenk om de pijn te kunnen verzachten, … als het een noodzakelijke gewoonte , drugsverslaving, wordt, kan het heel schadelijk worden voor de persoon zelf en de omgeving , .. en dan zijn er pijn en gevoeligheid die per persoon sterk kunnen verschillen op een schaal ,
4 sterren als geschiedenisboek ,

[Dylan · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.4

Starts very strong, an excellent complement to Booth's Opium: A History with complementing focuses. However, Booth's book struggles with far too light coverage of the last century and Inglis's book is sadly worse in this area. Despite more space given to the modern day, it contains just as little information, veering into frequent tangents.

I really appreciated Inglis's diversion to the history of alcohol and marijuana as it gave illuminating context and comparison to the main topic. However, the closing consideration of Afghanistan and other modern topics feel totally different then the rest of the book.

[Gary Miller · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is a highly detailed history of opium and related drugs derived from the poppy plant from ancient times until today. Or synthetic products of the same or related chemistry. I am surprised at how accurate the historical conditions and facts were relentlessly pursued and documented. The research effort must have been incredible.

This was not a book easily written. A book which clearly deserves to be in my library. In addition, the author has made this entire subject, not just readable but a strong source of knowledge which I learned from and can refer to over time. Well Done!

[Stella Simone · Rating 3 out of 5]

The book started with great hopes: a comprehensive cultural, historical, economic, and biological review of the poppy plant and opium. However, I found that it just dragged on and on, focusing on historical facts that I am not sure are backed by actual evidence. The book spent a lot of time on explaining logistical operations on the movement of opium exports throughout the world and history. I wish it would have focused more on the discovery, medical application, and socio-economical impact instead of focusing on facts and figures. It got boring and very dry at some points, spending very little, just towards the end, on the current status of opium and opioid use worldwide.

[Fraser Sherman · Rating 4 out of 5]

It turns out our use of opium as a sedative probably goes back millennia. It's been chewed, snorted, traded, smuggled, smoked, and as morphine and heroin, injected. It's an invaluable painkiller; it's a deadly drug.
It's a great topic, but not a great book. Before discussing poppy farming in Afghanistan, Inglis gives us the history of Afghanistan; we don't need it. While the discussion of ancient trade routes is often interesting, it wanders too far away from the topic of how opium was shared and spread. Still interesting but flawed. I also think I'd have liked more on the pop-culture and social attitudes (heroin chic as they say).

[Emily · Rating 3 out of 5]

While this book is jam-packed with information on all sorts of historical topics, I often found myself asking, “and what does this have to do with opium?” The author would usually briefly circle around to mentioning the topic’s tie to opium before going back to delving into the topic at hand (rather than opium’s role in it). So while I learned a whole lot about all kinds of stuff throughout history in general, after reading this book I remain lacking an understanding of how opium is grown, extracted, produced, sold, etc. the book felt like the author, in their research, found rabbit holes to go down and ended up writing about those instead.

[Julian Walker · Rating 4 out of 5]

An extraordinary read which gives superb historical perspective to an issue that tends to be demonized, or glamorized.
 
This book does neither, but is highly readable, due in part to the way the author weaves the story threads together - peppering the book with factoids which will be indispensable to anyone with a need for general knowledge.
 
Seeing the drug's evolution through these pages also explains the motivations and power base of criminal organisations involved in its trafficking - another part of this history, deftly handled by the author. 

A fascinating and engrossing read.