5.0

The fact that I grew up in Southeastern Ohio in the late 90's and early 00's made this book very close to home for, both literally and figuratively. My family, like basically every family in my community, has been rocked by the effects of the opiate epidemic. My county has been a victim of the same decline as Quinones details so vividly about Portsmouth (In fact, I remember traveling through Portsmouth in middle school and, even at the age of 12, sensing there was something horribly wrong there. I discovered I wasn't wrong when I read the chapters in this book detailing the full-fledged painkiller economy taking place in the town at that time.) So, I guess this is all to say that there is no way for me to be completely objective about this work due to its proximity, and I appreciate the effort that Quinones made to convey the reality of the epidemic on these hard-hit areas.

I also loved that this book allowed me to see beyond my own scope of the opiate epidemic to the much larger picture of how it culminated into a national crisis. Reading about the pain revolution and the marketing strategies employed by pharmaceutical companies was infuriating, but so helpful in understanding the perfect storm they created. Reading about the Xalisco Boys, I often found myself surprisingly invested in their stories and almost pulling for them in a way, which is a credit again to Quinones' ability to keep a massively complex story ultimately focused on its humanity.

I agree with many other readers in that the book sometimes seems as if it could have used some more editing and is curiously repetitive in a way that doesn't seem intentional. And there are a lot of moving parts, which can get a little convoluted, but none of this disrupted the incredible learning experience of reading this book, which gave me so much insight into a crisis through which I've lived.

Lastly, I appreciated his optimism at the end of the book. Though the devastation of this epidemic is far from over, I've seen welcome glimmers of revitalization in my own community. In finishing the book—even though I'd spent so many of its pages haunted by my ability to put faces and names to those who have lost parents, children, and partners to this cruel epidemic—instead of shame, I unexpectedly felt myself overcome with compassion and pride for the resiliency and heart of my home. Having recently graduated from college, I feel compelled to continue learning as much as I can about this issue and lending all the resources I can to its recovery.

I'm very grateful to Sam Quinones for this work of comprehensive journalism that allowed me to both think and feel so deeply about this issue.