I expected this to be a compelling, well-written entry in the addict’s memoir genre– and this is definitely that, with reflections about memory and how the stories we tell ourselves might not be true– but this book is much richer than that.
To my mind, what makes this such a rich text are all of the things that are a little to the side of the main narrative arc of the book, but that give all of this (explanatory?) context to it. Carr is clear-eyed about the fact that the state of Minnesota and its generous welfare system allowed him to go to good, long-term rehab several times until it took. He talks about the support of his friends and family, making it abundantly clear that he was able to recover in no small part because he had extensive support. (And privilege! His career and his family gave him resources to navigate the various institutional systems he encountered.) He talks at some length about masculinity, about the significance and importance to him of being a man.
It’s a shame we lost Carr when we did, honestly, because his book suggests he would have had many things to add to the conversations we’ve been having in the years since he died.