I first heard about this book from a fabulous YouTube video from one of my favorites, Kyle Krieger. Krieger himself has dealt with addiction in the past and turn nine years sober in May. That is an amazing accomplishment, especially after become sober at the age of 23. He is very open about his addiction and struggles with drinking in the past. His friend, Sam Lansky, editor for Time magazine and author of the memoir "The Gilded Razor" was his guest. In the video, Kyle and Sam summarize some of Sam's life entailed when he was battling addiction. As soon as I heard Kyle's supreme praise for Sam's work and Sam's honest and poignant opinions to what his life was then and how it is now as a sober man, I put it down for my summer reading list. I just finished the memoir and Kyle might have a run for his money for the amount of praise that this book can be given.
Below is my actual review. There are very few spoilers, but just in case, slight Spoiler Alert!
Sam starts by painting the picture that led to his early life of addiction, weaving singular, yet interwoven events smoothly and vividly. I could feel the pain, yet nonchalantness of his parents' divorce. I could feel each intake of pot smoke or line of cocaine, or pill he popped. Sam guides us through his transition from Portland, Oregon, his hometown, to New York City, where his father has moved after the divorce. With what seems like unlimited spending money, an absent father who is traveling and hanging out with his new girlfriend, Sam joined his uppity heir classmates in true drug fueled debauchery. There were moments, even earlier on, when I thought there was no way he was going to survive a particular bender, or crazy experience, jumping from taxi to nightclub, stumbling into his father's place at 6am, and going to school at 8am, he was already a miracle in my book.
Along with his drug fueled existent, Sam also found comfort and euphoria in the company of men, most of the time older, successful men he would have sex with and do drugs. He would feel loved in that moment, appreciated, belonging to something or someone. He would use internet chat boards and sites, his experiences happened before Grindr and other apps, to find these men. All of this before the age of 18. He used his fake ID to get into clubs, get drinks, and escape into a world where he got away from the pain of his parent's divorce, or other abuses he faced in his early life. Lansky presents each situation with a beautiful bluntness as he describes all of the drugs he would have in a particular setting, as if everyone has done this combination before. Even in his worst, Sam was always pretty self-aware of what he was doing, not always liking himself in the morning, as popping some pills and drinking coffee to be ready enough to go to class, but always returning to his euphoric and crazy space.
Lansky also goes into great detail describing his ordeal of a rehabilitation experience. Each time it felt he was making progress, or finding deeper meaning into what his problems were, something from his life would sneak in to disrupt the progress. This could another patient's access to his incredibly poor relationship with his parents creeping back into his life.
Lansky has become a sober man, as seen in the video I attached about the book. He looks healthy, especially compared to the descriptions of himself during different points of addiction. He nows works as a writer and editor for magazines like Out, Time, and The Atlantic. He is a success story, a miracle, whatever you want to call him, he led quite the tumultuous life, which he simultaneously paints a glorious and horrible at the same time.
I felt so inclined to write about this book because of what Sam dives into within his own life story. A wanting to be loved, desired, appreciated, wanted. He talked about having friends that he would push away because of his relapses or frequent drug use. He spoke of his loves, the feel of their skin, the brush of scruff on their faces, a soft kiss on the head, that he pushed away, for the most part by his erratic behavior. His parents pay a central role in his story, when they were there, when they were not. How his father seemed all too concerned to other aspects of life, until he took Sam in the middle of the night to rehab, and to Sam's interpretation barely acknowledged how sick he truly was. Lansky's deeply colorful descriptions and solid pacing kept the story succinct and a quick read. I did not want to put this book down. I wanted to know who he would meet next, or what crazy experience he had that one night or if this rehab center was the one that worked. At a time when you feel like you have your whole life in front of you, much like so many of us now, college student age, you are never too young to stop doing something destructive, whether its an abusive substance or just tearing yourself down all the time, you are not too young to stop that behavior or to seek help. I deeply identified with his need to be loved, held, and wanted. I believe we all do. I hope Sam is finding his love, his place, a wonderful existence outside of the realm of his drug induced stupor. It sounds like he is, but we can learn from his story, about how we feel about ourselves, how we can reach out to others, and how we can love just a little bit more.
The memoir is "The Gilded Razor" by Sam Lansky
