Original Sins: An Extraordinary Memoir of Faith, Family, Shame and Addiction

by Matt Rowland Hill

An extraordinarily brave memoir about faith, family, shame and addiction - an Observer, New Statesman and Sunday Times Book of the Year'Brilliant... lively, engaging and extremely well written - scrupulously, painfully honest... sharply funny' PANDORA SYKES, SUBSTACKMatt Rowland Hill grew up the son of a minister in an evangelical Christian church. It was a childhood fraught with bitter family conflict and the fear of damnation. After a devastating loss of faith in his late teens, Matt began his search for salvation elsewhere, eventually becoming addicted to crack and heroin - an ordeal that stretched over a decade and culminated in a period of hopeless darkness.Recklessly honest, and as funny as it is grave, Original Sins is an extraordinary memoir of faith, family, shame and addiction. It's about looking for answers to life's big questions in all the wrong places, how hope can arrive in the most unexpected forms, and how the stories we tell might help us survive.'Remarkable, funny, arrestingly well-written... Brings to mind Edward St Aubyn's Patrick Melrose novels, but is also entirely, exhilaratingly its own thing' The Times'Electric... Artfully structured with novelistic verve... Hill is a blazing talent' Observer'A beautifully controlled tale of a life spiralling out of control... One of the best books I've read this year' Sunday TimesLONGLISTED FOR THE BAILLIE GIFFORD PRIZE FOR NON-FICTION AND SHORTLISTED FOR THE SLIGHTLY FOXED BEST FIRST BIOGRAPHY PRIZE AND WALES BOOK OF THE YEAR AWARD

Genres: Memoir, Nonfiction, Addiction, Audiobook, Biography, Biography Memoir, Autobiography

302 pages, Kindle Edition

First published July 5, 2022

Reviews

[Sarah · Rating 3 out of 5]

2.5 rounded up

Fans of addiction memoirs will find a lot to enjoy here, as will those who like memoirs of people losing their religion - there seems to have been a recent trend for both of these types of memoir, so it seemed about time for someone to combine the two. I found this very readable, but finished Original Sins: An extraordinary memoir of faith, family, shame and addiction feeling like it didn't really bring anything new to the table. The non-linear, fragmentary structure didn't entirely work for me either. I think many readers will love this, but it just left me cold.

Thank you Netgalley and Random House UK / Vintage for the advance copy, which was provided in exchange for an honest review.

[Emly · Rating 4 out of 5]

Given the subject matter, this book was remarkably easy to read. The prose is fluid, engaging and candid.
I liked the brutal honesty, the humour and the questioning nature of the book. Do not skip reading the afterword and acknowledgements. But do so at the end as intended. These place the book in a while different light and for me provided a much needed gravity to the overall feel ( I sometimes felt a nagging sense of levity and superficial glossing when reading, but that is possibly more to do with personal experience and comparison, than a fault of the memoir). That said, this non preachy writing style absolutely enhanced the book as regards response to the author. Unlike many other memoirs, there is no request for pity or blame. Just a terrifyingly open invitation yo view a life warts and all without apology. And no apology would be needed. The grace and transparency require nothing more than a non judgemental reading. And I would challenge anyone who judges harshly to think again.
The early years sections are instantly relatable in many parts and his reassessment of them later is both insightful and tender. Matt Rowland Hill bravely lets the reader see his shortcomings as well as those of the people he loves. This has the effect of making the reader feel fiercely protective of him at various crossroads and also in the present. I like that the candour creates this intimacy.
The memoir presents some of the addiction clichés, but only after the author has rejected them time and time again, finally realising that a cliché is oftentimes a cliché, because its true. The charming part of the cliché trail is that you are completely on the journey with him, so are as surprised as anyone when it looms in front of you.
For me the outstanding areas of writing though are in relation to his tussle with Christian faith. That journey is a desperate addition to his recounting of sobriety and the questioning is both raw and challenging. Having just read Timothy Keller’s ‘Walking with God through pain and suffering’, it was heart-breaking to read some of these wranglings alongside his journey through addiction. Strange that this book should land on my doorstep by chance from the publishers so soon after reading Keller.
I can’t say much more without spoiling things. But suffice to say, you root for him from the opening page. You get a glimpse into the tawdry selfish life of addiction. You smile at teenage rebellion and wince at recognisable family shortcomings. As with all midlife memoirs you are left wanting to know how the next 30 years will be and that is no bad thing in the documenting of the journey of addiction.... one day at a time will eventually unfold the turns of the coming decades.
I read it in an afternoon (much to my surprise) and it is almost up there (as a book), with Amy Liptrot’s The Outrun and (the contentious but still excellently observed) A million little pieces by James Frey. However, as a person, I fell for Matt Rowland Hill and his journey, far more than I did Liptrot or Frey. The writing just makes you so much more part of the ride as opposed to an observer. I am rooting for him still now after finishing the book , so much has his story touched me.

This is an honest review in return for free copies of the book for our book club.

[Kevin · Rating 2 out of 5]

My friend gave me this to read and I didn't know too much about the book or the author beforehand. He told me it was an autobiography of someone with a religious upbringing who became a heroin addict so I knew that much. There are some fascinating books about people taking drugs I have read - Trainspotting, The Doors of Perception etc. - my friend always complained that the De Quincey Confessions of an Opium Eater book didn't really contain enough opium taking.

First off, I am not really that into these sort of autobiographies of not famous people who have had a terrible time which seem quite fashionable so there was always a risk of this being not really my sort of thing. It also doesn't really help that I am reading Proust at the same time so it is not really a fair comparison to make of one of the great biographical epics of literature with this which is of course in no way the author's fault.

I would say it's very readable, the conversations related are quite believable, and it is all told in a very honest way. I have no reason not to think that everything in here happened from his perspective and it can't have been easy to do to go back over all of the horrible stuff he did to people because he was addicted to Heroin. Just from the off really, his religious upbringing with his family, his journey into drug-taking, his behaviour while on drugs and his various efforts to get away from his addiction all felt like a story arc that I had heard before and didn't really stand out in terms of either how outrageous, funny, insightful or memorable any of it was.

I liked the bit about alcoholics anonymous (which like the author I have always worried is a bit of a cult) and there are some nice bits of description. There is actually very little about what it felt like when he was on drugs and a lot of soul searching about what drove him to this in the first place, whilst also maintaining a cynicism about easy spiritual or psychological answers. I suspect if I had a more religious upbringing then perhaps I would identify more with his questioning and guilt (Graham Greene books are quite heavy on a lot of this stuff) and by writing a warts-and-all account of heroin addiction he might help a lot of people. By the end though, I wasn't really sure if he had all that much to conclude about this problem and how he got himself out of it never mind any broader conclusions for other people.

Anyway, it is perfectly readable and others may well like it, but it didn't do that much for me unfortunately.

[Jose · Rating 4 out of 5]

The addiction memoir is not a new genre but it must be having some sort of renaissance because there’s so much being published that fits the bill. The same could be said about biographies of kids getting messed up by fundamentalist religious upbringings. This book is a mix of both. The “faith lost” books tend to read like this : Parents envelope someone’s childhood in their beliefs. These are embraced completely no matter how unnatural. Adolescence comes and cracks in the foundation start to appear, they are too wide to ignore. These cracks are patched with increasingly less solid plaster and alarm until the whole edifice of faith crumbles casting the child (or children) outside the circle. Years of exploration and upheaval follow in which everything forbidden is tried and new connections sought to fill the void. Eventually amends are made when hate gives way to pity and eventually to play-acting normalcy as an act of love.

But in my opinion, “Original sins” is an ode to the NHS, the UKs beleaguered healthcare system. American readers might find it unbelievable how much the author owes to socialized healthcare. How much? His life no less. And this book. Because Matt R. Hill should be dead if his account is truthful.
Born in a family where the father is a preacher and the mother a religious zealot, little Matt grows up quoting Bible verses with deadly precision and feeling secure in his faith. Then he enters the real world in the form of an elite school. It doesn’t take long for him to start trying to square his learned truths with the world at large , from evolution to the existence of evil to his sexual urges which he indulges with high frequency and large doses of guilt. The pressure of his crumbling faith edifice pushes him into cycles of addictive behaviour and isolation. From here, it just gets worse.

As some people reach out to rescue him and the now enlightened author bristles at their methods and ignorance. He has become a militant zealot against any form of spiritual bromide. Not just against the consolations of his old beliefs but against any other healing doctrine whether spelled out by Buddhist meditations , addicts anonymous group mottos or 12 step programs rules. He twists every phrase to expose its inherent banality as he does with St Ignatius famous bargain (which he reverses) “ What does it profit a man to gain his soul if he looses the world”. When fellow addicts drone : “ one day at a time” he rages , as if there was another choice! . His anger at the contradictions of every helpful ready-made phrase uttered during bouts of recovery zeal further sinks his battered will to live in this world full of pain.

And yet, the book ends in a hopeful note about the undeniable power of faith. When hopeless people like the author end up on the receiving end of the aid provided by those whose motivation is faith-based, faith shows it’s value . There is also power in not waiting any longer for life to become easy or a succession of pleasurable events. The cringe-worthy intellectual clutches, those mottos from church groups and addiction support groups also have power. The realization that addiction is forever and expecting a miracle is just postponing life. Not too exciting, it is true, but may be all that’s really needed.

So how does the book read? Mr Hill is a good writer, he provides his story with a good rhythm and enough tension to hold our attention even when the descriptions become a little repetitive ( as do his love affairs , one for every rehab attempt). It ushers the reader into a world of heroine induced horrors that defy any self-preservation logic as well as into other realms, the church, the elite schools, the rehab wards…

In conclusion, a good read wth the added thrill that the book you hold is not just a book but a miracle , courtesy of the NHS.

[Jessica · Rating 3 out of 5]

Matt Hill grew up in his father's Baptist church. He idolized his father and grew up feeling like their Christian beliefs were right in a world full of wrong. But, there were a lot of cracks in the family. His parents were miserable with each other and fought almost constantly. His mother was extremely pious and judgmental. Once Hill was in high school he faced the normal teenage temptations - sex, drinking, smoking, drugs, etc. But, he couldn't admit to himself or his family how much he was struggling. His black and white views of everything made him see himself as bad and if he's already bad then he might as well be REALLY bad. In college he begins using heroin and it quickly spirals into addiction. Like most addicts, Hill doesn't see himself as "that bad" and someone else is always to blame. Eventually Hill gets sober (a few times) and begins to reconcile how he grew up with why he became and addict and how his dysfunctional family contributed to his issues.

I think the description of the book is a little deceptive. The first sentence of the description reads, "Matt Rowland Hill had two great loves in his life: Jesus and heroin." I didn't find that to be true. I don't know that Hill's parents really loved Jesus because they certainly didn't show that love in their household at all. They were religious and self-righteous, but I didn't see much of Jesus's love in anyone in this book. When not one of their four children stayed Christian that says a lot to me. Their household was extremely dysfunctional and the parents never seemed aware of any of that at any time in the book. I do think Hill's addiction and atheism were a direct response to his parents black and white religious views and his own all or nothing mentality. Hill did finally get sober through a Christian rehab, but that didn't bring back his love for Jesus or the Church. While he did start to deal with his religious views and upbringing through therapy, it wasn't that kind of happy ending. The ending was ambiguous, but I think that's because sobriety is a journey not a destination. I found Hill's story very interesting, but it was also sad - especially around his family and all their issues.

"Don't go out too far, my mother had said. But how far was too far? The grown-up world was full of lines I was forbidden to cross, but most of them were invisible until I'd already strayed over them and my mother was furious with me." (p. 48-49)

"I seemed incapable of moderation, either in spirituality or vice. Only perfect holiness was worth attaining, and since it seemed beyond me, I abandoned myself to sin." (p. 86)

[Ron S · Rating 3 out of 5]

Do we need another drug addiction memoir? They all follow very predictable arcs, and tend to convey the same messages and lessons. At this point they're frequent enough that some kind of special angle is required: in this case, it's being raised by Evangelical Christian parents and a subsequent loss of faith. That said, this is a very readable book written with humor and compassion by a likeable author. Just as we needn't question the number of works of fiction we read all sharing the same basic storylines, the burden of non-fiction is often as simple as a tale being well told. Which Rowland Hill certainly manages here.

[Victor Porras · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book was very well written and enjoyable. It's a gripping story about how people will sacrifice everything at the altar of addiction. I didn't find the author/protagonist very likable by the end of it, but I guess that's testimony to the honesty of the portrayal.

[Aoibheann · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a painfully candid memoir about addiction and faith but it manages to be an incredibly easy read as the writing is engaging and even humorous at times. I’ve never read anything like this before, and have never experienced addiction either so this was an eye opening read.

[jean · Rating 5 out of 5]

A wonderful book! I've never read such a warm, witty, self pitying, angry, tolerant, reasoned, crazy, human, humane memoir of scraping the depths and aiming for redemption before, and I doubt I will again
thank you to netgalley and Random House for an advance copy of this book

[Sue · Rating 5 out of 5]

A painfully detailed and frank account of addiction. Self deprecating, with a wry sense of humour, the author leads the reader on a roller coaster ride through his struggles with drugs, faith and relationships. This book will stay with you long after the last page.

[cotcom · Rating 5 out of 5]

This memoir is about family, faith, shame, drug addiction, and despair. Hill manages to write the story of his life in a way that has the reader hanging on every page. The writing is succinct, creative, thoughtful and economical. No words are wasted, and rather than simply tell his story, Hill shows us the absolute bottom-of-the-barrel life he led. From restrictive evangelical family beginnings to theft, the story dips and weaves through the author’s life. 
Whilst dipping into the depths of despair, he also writes of redemption and love. This is an authentic, real and moving story of one man’s tumble into drug addiction and all that it entails. I couldn’t put this down and I have much admiration for the bravery and honesty in which this book has been written. It takes courage to write like this and I applaud Hill on his fine writing style and pace in which he tells his story. This is not for the faint-hearted but I enjoyed this book very much and highly recommend it. 

[Serina · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is the book I’ve been waiting years to find…. It spoke to the deepest part of me … The story is not just about addiction but a universal one _ about growing up and finding yourself ! Exceptionally written !

[Alison Prowle · Rating 4 out of 5]

What to say on finishing this book?
Matt takes us on an emotional journey exploring some of the big issues in life- faith, doubt, love, loneliness, family in all it's beauty and tension, addiction , pain and recovery. As a Christian in South Wales, the cadences of speech and the expressions of faith were very familiar. I could relate to some of the struggles, especially as a young student reading theology at a secular university and finding myself shaken to the core by ideas encountered there. The pictures of family life were unflinching and written solely from Matt's perspective, but throughout the book, there are glimmers of deepest love and respect between family members.


The depiction of addiction is similarly candid. As a reader, I found myself immersed in the world of the drug taker where the next fix takes precedence over everything else. The pain in this book is tangible, even in the most stylised of paragraphs, and we begin to understand so much about the human condition.

The afterword and acknowledgements bring the reader up to the present in Matt's life. This section is heartbreaking, and I am left with so much love for this whole family. I really hope (and pray!) that Matt's recovery will continue. My heart goes out to his parents and siblings, too. How brave, how humble, and gracious they are to support Matt in the publishing of such an intimate story. As I read the final chapter, I got the distinct feeling that Matt is not finished with the God of his childhood, and, moreover, that God is definitely not finished with him x

[Vera VB · Rating 4 out of 5]

Het boek opent met een scene waarin Matthew zichzelf in het toilet van een kerk een shot heroïne toedient tijdens de begrafenis van een vriend van hem die overleden is aan een overdosis. Dat geeft aan hoe erg zijn verslaving is.

Daarna gaat het verhaal verder met zijn kindertijd en jeugd waarbij de strenge gelovigheid opvalt. Zijn vader is pastor en het gezin verhuisd van gemeente naar gemeente. We lezen hoe Matt tijdens zijn puberteit worstelt met zijn seksualiteit, hoe dit past in zijn geloof en hij vindt dat hij faalt. Twijfel over het geloof slaat toe.
De schrijver laat geen details over wat verslaving doet weg, zo is er de scene waarin hij door diarree, veroorzaakt door eerste tekenen van ontwenning, in zijn broek doet. De manier waarop hij probeert het toilet proper achter te laten is erg filmisch beschreven en is vooral tragisch.
Zijn twijfel over het geloof neemt grotere vormen aan wanneer hij naar een kostschool gaat. In zijn laatste jaar begint hij met heroïne. Eerst een keer per maand, dat wordt al snel tweewekelijks, wekelijks, het weekend. Hij gaat over van recreatief gebruik naar medisch gebruik. Het weekend begint al op donderdag, op woensdag vertoont hij ontwenningsverschijnselen en snel daarna gebruikt hij dagelijks. Hij verliest zijn vrienden, familie, religie, werk, onderdak, ja eigenlijk alles.

Verslaafden waren altijd te vroeg - en dealers altijd, altijd te laat. Wanneer ik zat te wachten om te scoren dijde de tijd uit en veranderde mijn bank of trappenhuis in een bitter vagevuur, een duistere nacht van de ziel.

Na een overdosis belandt hij in een psychiatrische kliniek waar hij nuchter en clean wordt. Na zijn opname denkt hij het alleen te kunnen rooien, zonder programma, maar dat valt hem zwaar. Uiteindelijk gaat hij naar een groep waar hij kennis maakt met het twaalfstappen programma. En met een vrouw terwijl je juist in het begin van je nuchtere leven geen relatie moet beginnen en al zeker niet met een andere verslaafde. Het laat zich raden dat hij hervalt en weer twee jaar verslaafd is.

... dat ik weliswaar verfoeide wat drugs met me hadden gedaan, maar dat ik me domweg niet kon voorstellen om zonder te leven? Hoe kon ik uitleggen hoe eenzaam ik was, dat heroïne en crack de beste vrienden leken die ik ooit had gehad?

Hij laat zich opnieuw opnemen en gaat daarna naar een christelijk centrum en retraite.

Ik had geprobeerd het zonder drugs te redden, ik had me er volledig voor ingezet, maar dat was te hoog gegrepen geweest. Het was tijd om te aanvaarden dat er mensen waren die het bestaan aankonden en mensen voor wie dat niet gold.

...dat er zelfs tijdens de kernramp van de afgelopen twee jaar toch een kakkerlakje van hoop in leven was gebleven. Hoop dat alles anders kon zijn, dat het leven het misschien waard kon zijn om te worden geleefd. Het was de hoop waarvoor je moest uitkijken. Bij wanhoop kon je in elk geval niet worden teleurgesteld.

Matt Hill beschrijft heel gedetailleerd de twijfel over zijn geloof en zijn ondergang door heroïnegebruik. Zijn verslaving is progressief, de leugens, het geldgebrek, de diefstal van geld bij vrienden, het verlies van zelfrespect zijn onontkoombaar. De moeite die hij moet doen om nuchter te blijven wordt goed beschreven. Hij moet zijn leven van nul terug opbouwen en dat vraagt veel doorzetting en kracht. Terwijl tegelijkertijd de duivel over de schouder meekijkt en hem terug richting verslaving probeert te duwen.

Erfzonden is een ontnuchterende kijk in het gevecht van een verslaafde met drank, drugs, religie en zichzelf. Het vraagt moed om jezelf te ontdoen van alle schaamte en het proces eerlijk neer te pennen zoals Matt Hill gedaan heeft. Bovendien slaagt hij erin om dit proces hier en daar met enige humor te brengen. Vergeet vooral het nawoord niet te lezen want er staat belangrijke informatie in.
Een boek voor iedereen die kampt met verslaving in zijn of haar omgeving of zelf met de duivel kampt.

Met dank aan Atlas Contact voor het ter beschikking stellen van dit boek.

[Belle · Rating 4 out of 5]

Loved the narration of a religious childhood and the connection between the psychological effect of this upbringing (specifically extremely dogmatic branches of Christianity) and substance abuse/addictive personalities. The last chapter made me cry, especially the discussion of using prayer to meet estranged religious family members on their own terms.

Managed to put into words the very intense and specific psychological experience of mentally warring with your parents’ theology as a teenager, and then acknowledging the lingering effects of this experience as an adult, which is an incredibly unique sensation which I have struggled to articulate to other people. I found the author’s identification of chronic ‘waiting’ as one of these effects very valuable, again specifically in relation to those who grew up in strict Christian households taught to always be waiting with faith/fear for the return of Christ and Armageddon. This insight made the book stand out against the usual discussion of ‘finding worship/escape/God in other things’ when religion and substance abuse are discussed together.

The penultimate chapter was a little too tedious re: the specifics of meditation, therapy methods/experiences which knocked a star off for me personally. In addition something about the way class/privilege was handled re: his friends Adam and Rose left a sour taste in my mouth.

[Dawid Skrodzki · Rating 5 out of 5]

After reading the book, I was disappointed to find out that it was Hill’s first and only publication. I absolutely adored the witty and insightful writing. Some moments made me laugh out loud, while others filled me with sadness and dread. I also identified with some of Hill’s thoughts and experiences, which made the reading feel very personal. So much so that I often wanted to underline certain passages, something I rarely consider doing (and actually never do on real books, only on Kindle versions).

[Tamara Gilfillan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Raw, honest and very well written. This booked really moved me. Reads like a novel, and I felt guilty getting lost in the story but I think that is testament to its writing and telling. Thank you to the author for putting this down on paper and to his family letting him do so. I would thoroughly recommend this book and will look out for anything else he writes.

[Els · Rating 5 out of 5]

I read the Dutch translation. This book is well-written, I hope he'll write more books, maybe novels?

[katya jw · Rating 5 out of 5]

this should be taught in schools

[Elizabeth Allan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Honest and startling. How he lived to tell the tale ...

[Jennie Godfrey · Rating 5 out of 5]

Original Sins is quite simply exceptional. Laugh out loud funny, raw, real and deeply moving it is an insight into the life and mind of an addict and the journey to recovery without preaching and with incredible humility. I devoured it within a couple of days and am already wanting to read it again. Just beautiful.

[Vanessa Russell · Rating 5 out of 5]

This story of addiction is told in such a clear, relevant and engaging manner that I felt vividly as though every single decision the author made in every moment made perfect sense and was the only clear, logical option available. Matt Hill bares his soul to the public with his memoir and succeeds in telling a tale that every single person will relate to on some level- even those who have never touched a substance or sat in a church pew.

[David · Rating 5 out of 5]

An exceptionally well written book. Having had somewhat of a lull reading of late recently due to poor health this really caught my attention and I finished it in just over a day. It's an absolute page turner and I felt like I was there with Matt in many ways. The way he writes about his life, his challenges and his addictions is really quite something and it's so engaging. I used to read a lot of Bukowski and I felt like there were parallels between the two in how the writers made me feel and how vividly I could see or feel the situation. It's rare that a book captures you so entirely like Original Sins did for me, but well done Matt. I really hope this isn't the last

[Sam · Rating 5 out of 5]

And incredible memoir of a person raised in an extremely religious home & became a drug addict.

Many aspects of this book stood out to me and I think would be relatable anymore who grew up with an ideology based world view.

One thing I realize is that I am also an addict. But I am addicted to to stories. When I used to get in trouble for reading fiction, I used many of the same justifications that the author did. Including, "Just this one last time."

I also found the authors struggle with an all or nothing, black or white worldview to be extremely relatable.

[Alison Farquhar · Rating 5 out of 5]

I feel better for having read this book. I read it in three days and looked forward to getting home from work to read it. It is not as much about why someone goes into addiction, it is more about the question of why. That is the reason the book will stay with you and maybe make you look at things slightly differently than you did before.

[Miss Annabel · Rating 5 out of 5]

A beautifully written memoir which takes the reader on an emotional journey between extremes. It is at times utterly devastating yet strangely life-affirming. Both laugh out loud hilarious and excruciatingly painful. Although the story is told against the backdrop of an evangelical Christian upbringing and through a heady tour of the seedy underground world of drugs - it nonetheless contains universally relatable insights into human complexities that touch us all - of family, love, adolescence, health, happiness and redemption. An inspiring read and I found myself disappointed when the book came to an end. I look forward to seeing what comes next from this brilliant young writer.

[Elanor Lawrence · Rating 3 out of 5]

A deconversion memoir mixed with an addiction-recovery memoir, ORIGINAL SINS is brutally honest, to the point where I actually quite dislike the protagonist. It feels wrong, somehow, to say that about a memoir, but the truth is that Hill has done some pretty terrible things and he doesn't shy away from telling us about them. While the end of the memoir reveals that Hill is doing better now (though still without the happily-ever-after ending he hoped for) the memoir itself goes to some pretty dark places and is bound to make many readers uncomfortable.

There is a lot to appreciate about this book. Hill is undeniably a good writer, with an excellent ability to represent characters and his own ever-changing mental state. As the story is very much told in-the-moment, without hindsight imposed upon it, we get a good sense of what he was actually thinking at every point. The book, then, does fulfil its remit of giving us insight into the mind of an ex-Christian drug addict.

But this strength is also the book's weakness. It's written in a series of scenes, often with significant gaps in between, so it can be difficult to get a sense of the flow of his life (his university years, for example, are almost entirely missing). The present-focus also means that we get very little sense of what Hill has actually learned from his experiences. In one of the final scenes, for instance, he attends a reconciliatory dinner with his family, then immediately picks an argument when his father suggests they pray. That same evening, he tries to impose a "tolerant" worldview on his mother, growing increasingly impatient as she insists on believing there is only one way to heaven. He does appear to soften somewhat in the final pages, but it's unclear what (if anything) he believes by the end of the book.

It's also unclear to what extent he's sorry for or has moved on from the behaviours and attitudes expressed earlier in the story. While he states that he has made things right with the people he hurt, that reconciliation is never depicted. He also says some very confused things about Christianity, such as pointing out various "inconsistencies" in the Bible that are very easily explained. While Hill's deconversion narrative makes sense given his background, many of his jumbled teenage thoughts are left standing without comment, so it's not clear to what extent Hill still believes them. It's also never stated to what extent he thinks his deconversion and his drug addiction are connected, and whether his addiction is a result of his religious upbringing, or of his loss of faith. Essentially, the story offers a really vivid look at what he was thinking at various points in his life, but very little by way of overarching commentary.

Overall, ORIGINAL SINS was helpful in giving me a glimpse of a life very different than my own. For in-the-moment descriptions, Hill's work shines. Compared to more thoughtful memoirs like Tara Westover's EDUCATED, however, Hill offers very little in the way of ideas to consider and expand my own worldview. If you're particularly interested in addiction, this is a helpful book to read, but if you're looking for an insightful memoir, there are better books out there.

[Julie · Rating 5 out of 5]

Without a doubt this superb book deserves to enter (and remain on) the best-sellers list for weeks, if not months. One of the finest books I've read in 2022.

[CJ · Rating 2 out of 5]

The fact that the author took his advance, ran out and got high despite the risk to his liver vis Hep C…I’m not sure if there’s anything to gain from this viscerally raw memoir. Maybe it’s the fact that reality is nothing like stories we take in for entertainment.

Two thirds of the way through I really wondered if this was written as a long con to sustain his addiction, still not convinced it wasn’t…

[Rhys Llwyd · Rating 5 out of 5]

I finally got around to reading ‘Original Sins’ by Matt Rowland Hill—a book I deliberately avoided when it first came out in 2022. At the time, I was grappling with my own burnout, trying to untangle the complicated web of how I’d ended up there. And though Matt’s life has taken a very different shape from mine, I knew there were threads that would overlap, intersections I wasn’t quite ready to face. So I waited.

Now that I’ve read it, I’m profoundly glad I did. This is one of the most powerful, unflinching, and strangely beautiful memoirs I’ve ever encountered. It’s culturally significant—perhaps even theologically so. As I turned its pages, I found myself drawn back into my long-held love for the Manic Street Preachers, only now realising that this is no coincidence. Hill and the Manics are, in their own ways, singing from the same scarred hymn sheet—wrestling with the unresolved hangover of a very Welsh twentieth century, its disillusionment, its yearning, its ghosts.

At its core, Original Sins is a story of longing—for love, for relief, safety and a home. Being a Welshman by birth, but now lived most of his life in England, I don’t think ‘hiraeth’ has ever left Matt. His loss of faith and the Welsh language appear intertwined, and fittingly so.

Beneath the personal narrative lies a more uncomfortable question, one that Christianity, at least in some of its forms, must reckon with: How did it create a culture that leaves some people feeling so profoundly unworthy that they spiral into despair, self-hatred, and, in cases like Matt’s, addiction?

Hill’s story is not unique. Again and again, we hear of those who have grown up in the church only to find that their deepest struggles—whether with sexuality, mental health, or simply the inability to squeeze their souls into rigid doctrinal frameworks—lead them to crisis. And too often, that crisis is met with silence, condemnation, or, at best, the hollow promise of change if only they would pray harder, believe more, repent fully.

What does it do to a young person’s psyche to be told, in the subtlest and not-so-subtle ways, that their desires are disordered, their hearts untrustworthy, their very being somehow wrong? Not only am I still a Christian, but I’m also a Pastor—and I’ve even had to see a counselor to unpack the emotional baggage I’ve carried from some of my more negative experiences within the church.

The consequences are not theoretical. For example, there is research suggesting that those who leave some churches often experience emotional and psychological challenges similar to those who leave cults. Studies on religious trauma, such as those by Dr. Marlene Winell (who coined the term “Religious Trauma Syndrome”), highlights symptoms like anxiety, depression, and identity confusion in former evangelicals—paralleling the struggles of ex-cult members. The connection is not hard to trace. When faith becomes a cage rather than a refuge, when its only offer to struggling people is to suppress, deny, or eradicate fundamental parts of themselves, the fallout is inevitable.

My point is that Matt Hill isn’t an anomaly, despite what many churches might suggest. He’s part of a broader pattern—a generation of people, mine included, who were raised in evangelical culture and are now reckoning with some aspects of its impact even if we still hold to the central truth of its Gospel.

Some Christian culture recoils at stories like Hill’s, dismissing them as bad apples or attributing struggles with addiction and self-destruction to personal weakness rather than systemic failure. But if the fruit of a theological system is widespread pain and alienation, should we not question the tree from which it grows? If the Gospel is meant to be good news, why does it so often leave some of its most earnest believers crushed beneath the weight of their own supposed unworthiness?

In ‘Original Sins’, we witness the wreckage that one specific experience of Christianity, a fundamentalist one, can leave behind. But we also glimpse something else—a lingering, inextinguishable longing for God, even in the depths of addiction and despair. The Christianity of Hill’s childhood didn’t bring him joy, but he doesn’t seem entirely at home in his atheism either. It’s as if he’s been conditioned to reject the possibility of looking again at the Jesus of Christianity—not out of apathy, but because he was taught there was only one correct way to believe. If he couldn’t accept that singular doctrinal framework, he had to walk away entirely.

That should give us pause. It should force the Church to ask itself: Do we make space for the full, messy complexity of human lives, or do we demand a sanitised version of faith that leaves no room for struggle, no grace for those who do not fit the mold? If our faith is to mean anything, it must be big enough to hold doubt. It must be strong enough to withstand questions. And it must be compassionate enough to love people as they are, not just as we wish them to be. Otherwise, what gospel are we really preaching?

I grew up in a safe and happy family—nothing like the turbulence Matt experienced. My experience of evangelical Christianity has been largely positive and quite different from the specific brand of fundamentalist evangelicalism Matt describes. But some quirks of the evangelical subculture he describes I do recognise. Perhaps its most enduring mark was its fixation on correct belief, a rigid doctrinal certainty that often seemed to leave little room for actual spirituality. It’s a tension Matt and his mother reflect on in the book’s final pages.

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I’ve actually been thinking a lot about the way aspects of religion embody all kinds of universal wisdom, if you see what I mean. You know, since the meditation retreat. I actually had this really strange experience there I’ve been wanting to talk to you about. Kind of like an epiphany or something, I guess?
My mother listened patiently as I tried to explain my vision and the meaning I saw in it.
‘The way we were all just sitting there, together. Without words,’ I said, surprised to hear a little catch in my throat.
It was just so peaceful. Like the sort of peace – I don’t know exactly what I’m trying to say, but—
‘A peace that passeth understanding’, she said, visibly softening.
‘That’s right! That’s exactly it! All this trying to understand, to fit things into words, concepts, doctrines. And this need to be right all the time – it’s just a total waste of our lives. Who cares if we call it God or a higher power?

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Well, his mother did care about the distinction between God and a more abstract higher power—and so that brief moment of reflection quickly spirals into yet another heated Hill family argument. Personally I hold to a generous historical orthodoxy, but perhaps what Matt’s book reminds us of is that how we hold our beliefs matters just as much as what we believe. Thank you Matt for sharing your story, because it could well have been mine.