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bhalpin's review against another edition
2.0
Found this on the street in a pile of "Free: please take!" books.
I figured, well, I will read at least one book by any author who is the subject of an Ozzy Osbourne song with absolutely killer Randy Rhoads solo.
Like most novels written primarily to convey a philosophical point, Diary of a Drug fiend is not very good. It's certainly better than anything Ayn Rand ever wrote, but that's a very low bar to clear.
There's some interesting stuff depicting the horrible spiral of addiction. I don't know if it had really been done much before this book, but it's been done much better after this book. But still, being inside the characters' heads as they hit bottom and then find a hole in the floor so they can go even further down is kind of compelling.
But the book runs out of gas about halfway through, and the last third is truly terrible.
Everything that follows can be classed as a spoiler, so stop reading if you don't want a terrible book spoiled.
And then there's the whole mumbo-jumbo of the cure, which involves a lot of boredom for both protagonists and readers, and the discovery at the end that all Peter needed to do was discover he wanted to be an engineer, and all Lou had to do was learn that her purpose in life was simply to serve her husband. (Ironic that Lou winds up in this subordinate role when she is the more interesting and sympathetic of the two protagonists.)
Oh yeah, and we wind up with King Lamus telling Peter he really should probably take heroin and cocaine occasionally now that he's discovered his True Will.
If you go in for this kind of egoism masquerading as philosophy, you'll find it dispensed in much more readable fashion in Heinlein's Stranger in a Strange Land.
Still, I was compelled to finish it, though more out of stubbornness and a well-timed vacation than because of the quality of the book.
I figured, well, I will read at least one book by any author who is the subject of an Ozzy Osbourne song with absolutely killer Randy Rhoads solo.
Like most novels written primarily to convey a philosophical point, Diary of a Drug fiend is not very good. It's certainly better than anything Ayn Rand ever wrote, but that's a very low bar to clear.
There's some interesting stuff depicting the horrible spiral of addiction. I don't know if it had really been done much before this book, but it's been done much better after this book. But still, being inside the characters' heads as they hit bottom and then find a hole in the floor so they can go even further down is kind of compelling.
But the book runs out of gas about halfway through, and the last third is truly terrible.
Everything that follows can be classed as a spoiler, so stop reading if you don't want a terrible book spoiled.
And then there's the whole mumbo-jumbo of the cure, which involves a lot of boredom for both protagonists and readers, and the discovery at the end that all Peter needed to do was discover he wanted to be an engineer, and all Lou had to do was learn that her purpose in life was simply to serve her husband. (Ironic that Lou winds up in this subordinate role when she is the more interesting and sympathetic of the two protagonists.)
Oh yeah, and we wind up with King Lamus telling Peter he really should probably take heroin and cocaine occasionally now that he's discovered his True Will.
If you go in for this kind of egoism masquerading as philosophy, you'll find it dispensed in much more readable fashion in Heinlein's Stranger in a Strange Land.
Still, I was compelled to finish it, though more out of stubbornness and a well-timed vacation than because of the quality of the book.
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