Meanwhile on the flight back from London, I read the most amazing book: A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. Strada gave me the the book, recommend it highly but told me not one thing about it. So, I started reading it and it turns out to be a true story of recovery from addiction. And not just any addiction, but this guy was doing crack, crystal meth, sniffing glue and drinking alcohol. So bad that at the old age of 23, a doctor told him that using any of these substances would be the certain death of him. I gather he started using heavily at 13 and first got drunk at 10.

Anyhow, the book is primarily about his time at rehab, which is one of the most horrifying things I’ve experienced since Schindler’s List. I can’t give it away, but let’s just say I was so gripped that I read 275 pages on the plane and when we got home, I didn’t even unpack until I finished it.

make me never want to do drugs. A horofing story that is not only true but worse than any horror story I have ever read.

Heard wonderful things, so I thought I’d check it out myself.

Unputdownable and not remotely similar to what I normally read. Finished it in 24 hours and had some trouble shaking it off. I have read some reviews that criticise it’s sentimentality, but I found it easy to diregard the sentimental bits and kept turning the pages. I read an interview with the author and he sounds like a bit of a wander, which is a bit disappointing.