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The Story of Junk
A New York City junkie and heroin dealer re-evaluates her life when one of her associates reveals her identity to a DEA agent
336 pages, Paperback
First published April 1, 1997
27 people are currently reading
1414 people want to read
About the author
Linda Yablonsky
19 books15 followersLinda Yablonsky is an American art critic and journalist. She writes for Bloomberg News and for the "Scene & Herd" columnist for Artforum.com. Her writing has also appeared in The New York Times, Art in America, and Art + Auction.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 47 reviews
April 1, 2023
4.0 Stars
Drug fiction and junkie fiction is not at all my thing, so I was surprised how much I enjoyed this one. I've just never been particularly interested in the subject of drugs but this novel was so incredibly gripping. I think the standout element is the writing. I've attempted to read many poorly written stream of conscious memoirs so this beautifully written piece of literary fiction really stood out. I really appreciated how it presented a complex, multifaceted protagonist who challenged my assumptions about who becomes junkies. I highly recommend this one to readers who looking for a dark, literary read.
Drug fiction and junkie fiction is not at all my thing, so I was surprised how much I enjoyed this one. I've just never been particularly interested in the subject of drugs but this novel was so incredibly gripping. I think the standout element is the writing. I've attempted to read many poorly written stream of conscious memoirs so this beautifully written piece of literary fiction really stood out. I really appreciated how it presented a complex, multifaceted protagonist who challenged my assumptions about who becomes junkies. I highly recommend this one to readers who looking for a dark, literary read.
August 22, 2014
This is an important book. As much for what is told as for how simple it is to dismiss it before even lifting the front cover from the waiting pages of print. After reading many books difficult for me I reached for something non-fiction, straight forward, happily bereft of metaphorical layers, dense passages, dazzling messages if I could stay with it and read on. I didn't think it possible but I felt, Read-Out or R.O. in medical terms. So, I reached down for Yablonski's, The Story Of Junk. The plan was simple and cunning. Or was it cunning and simple? I hate this getting old and not knowing whether I'm being simple or cunning. Either way I would begin in the middle of this hefty book and skip the part of her perfect upper middle class upbringing and the astonishing, can-you-believe-this-can happen- fall from grace into the hell hole of drug addiction.
Junk began in the middle. The book is written in short sentences. It is written in first person present tense. The camera zooms in as close as possible within each passing moment of Yablonsky and her world. The selection of this style is the perfect representative of the experience, or as close as can be gotten. We as readers experience the altering of time and the cessation of consequence. This is a forthright report on the frailty of us human critters.
Yablonsky like many others-little is mentioned of her past and when it is its sleight of hand mesh and weave leaves it for what it is, a passing notion heard in the background as a whispered song-does not like who she finds inside her mind. As a matter of fact can't stand her, hates her. She cannot be left alone with her and must always be with others, drama and events filling gaps. As important, it is essential to not allow anyone to see who she is. The penalty is never questioned because the task is all consuming. I believe the word is dread. Constant dread. Dread risen from its soiled grave to surround Yablonsky and also feed a current of meaning and a vacuous pledge toward something unnamed.
The descent into Heroin Addiction is not a leap into a fiery pit. It takes a while to become addicted. Overtime and somewhat gradual. She was there before knowing she was. Life continued in-between. Daily life. Living with a soon to be lover, a lesbian rock star addict, she went through a honeymoon period where she became high and happy. Her dread backed off like a puppy cute or not.
Once the fairly short honeymoon period ended she no longer got high. She became sick. At this point an addict no longer gets high. There is no further kick. They only become violently sick in a way I do not believe the Geneva Convention would allow prisoners of war to be treated. The horrific yowling symptoms persist until the next fix of junk, until the tourniquet tightened and the loaded syringe is knifed into the waiting blue vein. Life now becomes the daily search for the next fix. The dread of not finding it hovers until found. Once found, the ritual, the sooner the better, begins. The bent spoon, small amount of water mixed with the powder of junk. The difficult part of holding a lit flame beneath the spoon dissolving the powder. If held too long the powder dries and is useless. The sickness gets worse. The life of a junkie is not about getting high but about avoiding sickness, living within daily dread and avoiding it till the next… Being a junkie is a way of life.
Yablonski is engaging and makes connections quick. She must begin dealing and as with most dealers can only make enough money to supply her growing habit. Customers like her. She deals clean dope uncut with things that can overdose and or kill. Also, she is discreet. There is not the personal chat of vulnerability. This is business. It is a business that keeps customers desperately ringing her doorbell, invoking their dramas, hanging out in her apartment listening to music. Then she must cop from the dealers who deal to her. They must be there. In reach. She can't just leave these people desperately sick lined up the stairs leading to her apartment. More important, she needs their money-often not their with their pleas for credit. She knows they're always good for their word, right. She must cop the powder for them to get her next fix for herself, to avoid the nightmare.
Constantly surrounded, constantly fearful, caught in the web of a cycle of need, the Heroin is not always there. All too often she must go into the bleakest most dangerous part of the city. The deluge of Heroin in the New York City of the 1990's has a square chunk of burnt out buildings ignored by the police. In front stands a line of sick junkies shaking and vomiting. She lines up with them waiting her turn to step into a dark shadowed building, entire floors amputated. Slipping her money into a cut slit a bag of powder appears after a tense wait. She leaves not knowing what kind, how good, if it is cut with poisonous substances to increase the dealers profits. She must find a place to shoot the junk. She cannot wait. There are dark recesses in dark buildings, in the hollows of alleyways. Will she overdose there? The sickness has to be stopped. Will she make it home cutting through the harrowing streets? Home means another ritual. Straight now from hitting up the junk she cuts up the powder and must bag it to sell to her customers.
What about the police. She trusts no one. Is vulnerable to many though does not think in those terms. No one trusts anyone. A community is formed where that distance is created and trusted. Isolation and aloneness for her while always surrounded by others. She does not see herself and no one cares to see her. Her problem solved and time filled. Surrounded by others stuck in this cycle she leads a life void of the anxieties of meaning, ambition. Morality as a construct falls away gradually in relevance. Within this world all action can be placed within the reference point of the person being a junkie, accepted, expected, and permissible. The addict has entered another world where the relativity of morality has been certified beneath a different code. Within their culture and world the addict's behavior is normal and expected. There is a forgiveness other communities cannot imagine. There is a faith in the present.
Over time it is simple to see and label the physical habit as self destructive. The damage done to once attractive facial and bodily images is palpable. However the addict lives now in a world that is mirror- less. The damage caused them in appearance is not registered or calculated. Their world gives no points for appearance. Appearing more damaged may provide as an asset in asking to be fronted dope or money or not be available to do the same for others requests.
In short the junkie has fallen into a life where, similar to a child, they live in a constant state of need and the searching hope of having that need gratified so as to avoid the horrible mounting feeling of sickness when the need is not met. This fear, insecurity, drives the addict. The sickness of not having the dope the next morning on waking is torturous. So, the addict spends their waking time seeking out a gratifier who will return them to a state of avoiding the horror of being in need and its consequent physical liabilities-copping dope or having enough, works clean or not, a dealer or if not available anyone, even off the streets from an unknown, enough customers to provide not money for a profit but enough money to cop enough dope to keep one's habit afloat.
Fear based, skimming on the uneven voltage of dread, it is a life easily stepped into and once inside, the netting turns out to be the thickness of unyielding iron bars,
Junk began in the middle. The book is written in short sentences. It is written in first person present tense. The camera zooms in as close as possible within each passing moment of Yablonsky and her world. The selection of this style is the perfect representative of the experience, or as close as can be gotten. We as readers experience the altering of time and the cessation of consequence. This is a forthright report on the frailty of us human critters.
Yablonsky like many others-little is mentioned of her past and when it is its sleight of hand mesh and weave leaves it for what it is, a passing notion heard in the background as a whispered song-does not like who she finds inside her mind. As a matter of fact can't stand her, hates her. She cannot be left alone with her and must always be with others, drama and events filling gaps. As important, it is essential to not allow anyone to see who she is. The penalty is never questioned because the task is all consuming. I believe the word is dread. Constant dread. Dread risen from its soiled grave to surround Yablonsky and also feed a current of meaning and a vacuous pledge toward something unnamed.
The descent into Heroin Addiction is not a leap into a fiery pit. It takes a while to become addicted. Overtime and somewhat gradual. She was there before knowing she was. Life continued in-between. Daily life. Living with a soon to be lover, a lesbian rock star addict, she went through a honeymoon period where she became high and happy. Her dread backed off like a puppy cute or not.
Once the fairly short honeymoon period ended she no longer got high. She became sick. At this point an addict no longer gets high. There is no further kick. They only become violently sick in a way I do not believe the Geneva Convention would allow prisoners of war to be treated. The horrific yowling symptoms persist until the next fix of junk, until the tourniquet tightened and the loaded syringe is knifed into the waiting blue vein. Life now becomes the daily search for the next fix. The dread of not finding it hovers until found. Once found, the ritual, the sooner the better, begins. The bent spoon, small amount of water mixed with the powder of junk. The difficult part of holding a lit flame beneath the spoon dissolving the powder. If held too long the powder dries and is useless. The sickness gets worse. The life of a junkie is not about getting high but about avoiding sickness, living within daily dread and avoiding it till the next… Being a junkie is a way of life.
Yablonski is engaging and makes connections quick. She must begin dealing and as with most dealers can only make enough money to supply her growing habit. Customers like her. She deals clean dope uncut with things that can overdose and or kill. Also, she is discreet. There is not the personal chat of vulnerability. This is business. It is a business that keeps customers desperately ringing her doorbell, invoking their dramas, hanging out in her apartment listening to music. Then she must cop from the dealers who deal to her. They must be there. In reach. She can't just leave these people desperately sick lined up the stairs leading to her apartment. More important, she needs their money-often not their with their pleas for credit. She knows they're always good for their word, right. She must cop the powder for them to get her next fix for herself, to avoid the nightmare.
Constantly surrounded, constantly fearful, caught in the web of a cycle of need, the Heroin is not always there. All too often she must go into the bleakest most dangerous part of the city. The deluge of Heroin in the New York City of the 1990's has a square chunk of burnt out buildings ignored by the police. In front stands a line of sick junkies shaking and vomiting. She lines up with them waiting her turn to step into a dark shadowed building, entire floors amputated. Slipping her money into a cut slit a bag of powder appears after a tense wait. She leaves not knowing what kind, how good, if it is cut with poisonous substances to increase the dealers profits. She must find a place to shoot the junk. She cannot wait. There are dark recesses in dark buildings, in the hollows of alleyways. Will she overdose there? The sickness has to be stopped. Will she make it home cutting through the harrowing streets? Home means another ritual. Straight now from hitting up the junk she cuts up the powder and must bag it to sell to her customers.
What about the police. She trusts no one. Is vulnerable to many though does not think in those terms. No one trusts anyone. A community is formed where that distance is created and trusted. Isolation and aloneness for her while always surrounded by others. She does not see herself and no one cares to see her. Her problem solved and time filled. Surrounded by others stuck in this cycle she leads a life void of the anxieties of meaning, ambition. Morality as a construct falls away gradually in relevance. Within this world all action can be placed within the reference point of the person being a junkie, accepted, expected, and permissible. The addict has entered another world where the relativity of morality has been certified beneath a different code. Within their culture and world the addict's behavior is normal and expected. There is a forgiveness other communities cannot imagine. There is a faith in the present.
Over time it is simple to see and label the physical habit as self destructive. The damage done to once attractive facial and bodily images is palpable. However the addict lives now in a world that is mirror- less. The damage caused them in appearance is not registered or calculated. Their world gives no points for appearance. Appearing more damaged may provide as an asset in asking to be fronted dope or money or not be available to do the same for others requests.
In short the junkie has fallen into a life where, similar to a child, they live in a constant state of need and the searching hope of having that need gratified so as to avoid the horrible mounting feeling of sickness when the need is not met. This fear, insecurity, drives the addict. The sickness of not having the dope the next morning on waking is torturous. So, the addict spends their waking time seeking out a gratifier who will return them to a state of avoiding the horror of being in need and its consequent physical liabilities-copping dope or having enough, works clean or not, a dealer or if not available anyone, even off the streets from an unknown, enough customers to provide not money for a profit but enough money to cop enough dope to keep one's habit afloat.
Fear based, skimming on the uneven voltage of dread, it is a life easily stepped into and once inside, the netting turns out to be the thickness of unyielding iron bars,
September 20, 2012
I read this book many years ago, before i ever touched heroin myself. Of course, I lost this book somewhere along the way, maybe in the same place I lost so many other things. This story stuck with me over the years, as I remembered it crawling through my own addiction. I remembered it crawling out of my addiction. A number of years after I got clean and finally had a steady job, I ordered a copy of this book. It was just as good as I remembered it!
May 24, 2013
This novel was absolutely terrifying. Her account ov carrying smack over foreign borders by shoving heroin-filled condoms up her ass was harrowing. I read this while on a pretty unglamorous smack streak, so what made it through the heroin haze, smack fog, dope filter, etc, was still enough to make quite an impression. Especially when a week later my then-roommate turned cyanotic blue from an overdose! After I stopped running in circles, squawkin' & throwing our stash under the couch, I calmed down, called 911 & gave her mouth to mouth until that horrifying & totally unforgettable blue-like color began to go back to fleshtone. Summation: our street in West Seattle soon turned into a sea ov swirling lights from cop cars, ambulances, even firetrucks! She ended up being okay, & I sat up with her for the rest ov the night, scared that she may fall asleep & never wake up again. Ov course the moment the house was clear ov pigs & nurses, I had to shoot up to calm my rapid-fire nerves, & it is this feeling ov horror that this novel instilled in me. For anyone who has ever been a slave to the needle, I highly recommend Yablonsky's nightmarish tale. I have since gone on to living a life without drugs & that damn needle, (yay me!), but this novel does a pretty good job with taking the glamour out ov addiction, & revealing it as the horrorshow it really is.
March 26, 2016
Very readable drug thriller. The writing is a bit clunky in places but the dialog is good and sometimes the writing catches on fire; there are moments of tenderness, though mostly, it's told in a very detached voice from a person who has a bleak and dreary view of life. More social history than novel, it gives good insight into the grip drugs had on the downtown NYC scene in the 1980s. A few characters I recognized: The great artist Jean-Michel Basquiat(Claude),writer/muse Cookie Mueller(Honey), photographer Nan Goldin(Ginger Snaps),art critic Rene Ricard(Prescott Weems), owner of Max's Kansas City and other clubs, Micky Ruskin(Sticky) and Contortions and Bush Tetras guitarist Pat Place(Kit). I'm sure others are fairly easy to identify but I'm not that up on the scene.
It's interesting to hear a dealer's story and how vulnerable they are in a predatory system based on snitches. What's sorely missing is that Yablonsky never made the connection to the primary source, despite all the rumors on the street and excellent books like Alfred McCoy's "The Politics of Heroin: CIA Complicity in the Global Drug Trade", that had been published for many years prior to her book. She could have at least made a few veiled comments about it, especially since there's a long section about her buying dope in Thailand! It would have added some perspective and interest. No mention of corrupt cops and DEA either, though a DEA agent is a central character. I think that's playing it way too safe(and square) since the whole system, including the snitch network, runs on corruption. She's no William Burroughs, but if you're interested in downtown New York Bohemia, or need to convince yourself that heroin just ain't worth it, or need to convince yourself that this is what passes for an adventurous life in a rotten, vulgar, massively hypocritical and insane society, then this is the book for you. Here comes Johnny Yen again...
It's interesting to hear a dealer's story and how vulnerable they are in a predatory system based on snitches. What's sorely missing is that Yablonsky never made the connection to the primary source, despite all the rumors on the street and excellent books like Alfred McCoy's "The Politics of Heroin: CIA Complicity in the Global Drug Trade", that had been published for many years prior to her book. She could have at least made a few veiled comments about it, especially since there's a long section about her buying dope in Thailand! It would have added some perspective and interest. No mention of corrupt cops and DEA either, though a DEA agent is a central character. I think that's playing it way too safe(and square) since the whole system, including the snitch network, runs on corruption. She's no William Burroughs, but if you're interested in downtown New York Bohemia, or need to convince yourself that heroin just ain't worth it, or need to convince yourself that this is what passes for an adventurous life in a rotten, vulgar, massively hypocritical and insane society, then this is the book for you. Here comes Johnny Yen again...
April 18, 2013
This story will take you on a ride. Obviously your taste for it is going to depend on your feelings on narcotics. For those who have been there this is a beyond real telling of the non-stop party life of 80's New York. It perfectly captures the seedy glamour, the escape, the FUN of getting fucked up...and what happens when it gets light out, the party's over, you're not a rock star: you're a junky. The sickness, deterioration, crime and pain creep up before you even know it. I've been searching for more Yablonsky work since I bought this book years ago, her voice is clever and clarion pure. It's real beyond real and utterly tragic.
August 9, 2011
Devoid of the stream-of-consciousness rambling that accompanies many stories in which drugs are at the forefront, Yablonsky's narrator gives us the straight dope (pun intended) about how a regular girl might come to use heroin, begin dealing, become a junkie, and get busted. The book is fascinating and realistic, which leads me to believe Yablonsky might either be very close to her story or be extremely skilled at research. The writing is very matter-of-fact, and our unnamed narrator could be anyone. The reader identifies and empathizes with her. The consequences of her use are neither minimized or exaggerated. Very well-written and engaging.
March 20, 2008
cookie mueller makes a cameo in this book. . .rad. usually junkie books annoy me but i think she did a good job. especially when she describes how everything she put in her body was brown. . .chocolate milk and dope. kit is such a babe, i want to be her. sort of predictable ending. i've actually been wanting to re-read this but only the winnipeg "millenium" library has it. . .montreal hates this book, FYI.
September 2, 2020
Back in the 1980s when lower Manhattan was still dirty, Linda Yablonsky lived with Bush Tetras guitarist Pat Place and dealt heroin to all of their artsy friends, which included Cookie Mueller, Nan Goldin, and Jean-Michel Basquiat. The Story of Junk is her roman à clef about their scene. The novel begins in 1986 when the nameless narrator is busted by the DEA and narcs on her supplier to avoid doing time. The narrator, while ruled by her addiction, has an instinct for self-preservation that creeps into ruthlessness. She’s white and middle-class and hasn’t had a particularly hard life; as she tells the agent when she gets the ‘how did a nice girl like you’ speech, “Anyone can be a junkie.” It’s a point made throughout the book, whose addicts skew to smart, educated, talented, and good looking. The narrator will definitely alienate some readers. She cheats on her girlfriend with men; she’s apolitical, bordering on internally homophobic, and doesn’t seem interested in much besides drugs. And this isn’t a redemption story—unflinching candor and flashes of dry humour is all that is on offer—but it is one hell of a great drug story. In scorching, meticulous, page-turning prose, Yablonsky transports the reader from the back kitchens and punk clubs of Manhattan to scoring in Italy to the night markets and heroin smuggling business of Northern Thailand. A fascinating social history that should have become a cult classic. (If you enjoy queer gossip, when you finish this book, read Eileen Myles’ short story, ‘Robin,’ in Chelsea Girls about an affair between Myles and Yablonsky.)
May 8, 2017
This was ok. Its funny how junkies are so boring - whether in the 80s or now
All they have is mobile phones now.
The timeline explaining who was the rat etc didnt really sync with me
All they have is mobile phones now.
The timeline explaining who was the rat etc didnt really sync with me
January 5, 2022
It was a good read...
May 31, 2017
From most pop culture books that I've read, the 80s sounded like a really bad time to be in New York if you weren't on heroin and a really bad time to be in New York if you were. I have no idea if either was true, but Yablonsky's The Story of Junk makes for a thrilling read nonetheless.
Set in downtown New York, everything feels hot and dirty, and heroin is the drug of choice for many. For two young women in love, it starts off as a party/social drug but soon develops into a habit, which then takes over their lives as they turn to dealing it to friends and junkies. The cash is coming in thick and fast, but their world soon comes crashing down when a someone they know tips off a DEA agent and they get busted. But who was it?
The Story of Junk is a well-written, fast-paced thriller with plenty of dark downward spirals amongst the highs. It's gritty and very bleak in places (there's certainly no sugarcoating going on in here), as you'd expect which makes it a compelling read overall, but some parts felt a little rushed.
Set in downtown New York, everything feels hot and dirty, and heroin is the drug of choice for many. For two young women in love, it starts off as a party/social drug but soon develops into a habit, which then takes over their lives as they turn to dealing it to friends and junkies. The cash is coming in thick and fast, but their world soon comes crashing down when a someone they know tips off a DEA agent and they get busted. But who was it?
The Story of Junk is a well-written, fast-paced thriller with plenty of dark downward spirals amongst the highs. It's gritty and very bleak in places (there's certainly no sugarcoating going on in here), as you'd expect which makes it a compelling read overall, but some parts felt a little rushed.
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July 12, 2025I took a while to take to this book, because the descriptions of the junkie lifestyle are not close to me and I cannot comprehend them. Perhaps the junkie life is exciting, but it's boring to read about, to me at least! But this book is only on the surface level about junk itself -- it's about the unhealthy codependent relationships junk makes you form, about running a business you're not sure you should be involved in; it's about 1980s New York. Is New York City just synonymous with the drug scene? It feels like every book I read about junkies is set in New York. The prose hooks you easily and the personalities of the characters are bright and lively and jump right off the page. It's heartbreaking, too, but the ending is hopeful -- a welcome relief. And even though I read this book on the way home from vacation, the sections set abroad, although this was definitely not their intent, immediately gave me wanderlust again. I don't want to go to these places to do drugs, but the descriptions of the places are beautiful in themselves.
July 3, 2018
I loved this book so much. As we get older we sometimes look back to the books that got us into reading in the first place. For me, it was never about Catcher in the Rye, The Great Gatsby etc, but those teenage drug novels /downslides that you just can't pull away from. Rarely do I find a book in my adult years that I just "can't put down". This was one of those books. I truly loved each and every character and the deep knowledge that went into what heroin does to people and why not all users are those from troubled backgrounds. It opened my eyes and left me with a better understanding of those around me that choose this drug.
January 19, 2020
This is one of the most shocking and enlightening books I have read in a very long time. I found myself sucked deep into the dark and dangerous world of heroine and addiction. Yablonsky's descriptions were vivid in the best and worst ways. I found myself feeling just as desperate and anxious as the characters within the pages. I think this is an important testament to a world most of us are lucky enough to never find ourselves in. Addiction is dark and evil, and it's so easy for some of us to label others as "junkie" without knowing how they came to be where they are. This book has opened my eyes to the power of heroine and the way it affects everyone exposed. Everyone should read this.
August 23, 2021
This is an eye-opening novel. Yablonsky, more than once, writes that 'Addicts are the best people I know.' I've known quite a few addicts. I used to work at a rehabilitation company. And she's correct. They are some of the best people I've known.
Reading this book was like living in the middle of the insanity of drug addiction. The 'highs' and lows. Funny at times, but heartbreaking all the way through.
Reading this book was like living in the middle of the insanity of drug addiction. The 'highs' and lows. Funny at times, but heartbreaking all the way through.
June 29, 2022
Een drugsverhaal dat zich een kleine veertig jaar terug in New York afspeelde. Zeker niet slecht geschreven, ook omdat ik Yablonsky verrassend openhartig vind, maar voor mij kabbelde het verhaal te veel door. Ik kreeg er maar geen gevoel en te weinig beelden bij. Bovendien vond ik het verhaal niet zo bijzonder, al moet ik erbij vermelden dat ik het boek na 100 pagina's heb weggelegd.
November 17, 2022
Wow! Just wow! This book is a rollercoaster ride, where one minute heroin is romanticized and the next everything come crashing down and you see the hideous and demonic side, and then it goes back up again, only to plummet at the very end. Linda Yablonsky holds nothing back and reveals all sides heroin, making it a book that’s hard to put down.
June 13, 2018
i didn't actually finish it because it was just so long and after a while you really could expect what was gonna happen next, the fact that she opened with how it ends kinda dosen't leave much for u to want to keep reading to find out. i liked the cookie mueller character tho!
December 9, 2019
3.5. So, believe the title. This book is about heroin. That can be pretty challenging to follow for an entire book, but you know what you're getting. The story is well written and interesting, but I don't think it's for everyone/mood.
September 7, 2025
Smooth read … this book is effective bc it’s critique of drugs extends beyond the extreme cases of destruction they can cause by showcasing the way they fill up your life and keep you from doing or enjoying anything else.
July 23, 2017
Tedious.
September 8, 2017
An excellent memoir.
June 9, 2019
I loved this book, it so casually describes drug addiction and how it can take over your life in an instant.
February 26, 2022
An in depth look at drug addiction. The means and end to get more. The depths of despair it takes you to.
May 27, 2022
This is a good book
July 28, 2022
leest even snel als de high van een drug. meeslepend, ontroerend, realistisch en hard. aanrader.
July 19, 2023
I haven’t read many stories dealing with addiction but this one was brilliantly written and causes the reader to follow the story with a constant sense of unease.
November 9, 2017
Another junky memoir, but this one is up there with William Burroughs.
October 16, 2008
I never read novels unless I can relate to the characters. I am too self centered to care about learning what it is like to be a 18th century French peasant or modern day murderer.
So the fact I read this book probably tells way too much about me.
Ummmm. It's very well written. Talent and truth. Obviously this is a form of memoir.
The 80s in New York. There sure was a lot of heroin around, wasn't there? And it seemed like no matter where you went everybody was a famous artist. It was all so... street.
Throw in a lesbian punk rock star with a jonsing problem as your girlfriend and somehow you end up the lower east side's biggest dealer with a massive habit yourself. I swear, I had to have known these people.
I really didn't understand why Yablonsky didn't get super famous like all the men who write about shooting up. Sexism in the drug and literary worlds?
So the fact I read this book probably tells way too much about me.
Ummmm. It's very well written. Talent and truth. Obviously this is a form of memoir.
The 80s in New York. There sure was a lot of heroin around, wasn't there? And it seemed like no matter where you went everybody was a famous artist. It was all so... street.
Throw in a lesbian punk rock star with a jonsing problem as your girlfriend and somehow you end up the lower east side's biggest dealer with a massive habit yourself. I swear, I had to have known these people.
I really didn't understand why Yablonsky didn't get super famous like all the men who write about shooting up. Sexism in the drug and literary worlds?
Displaying 1 - 30 of 47 reviews