novelist, essayist, teacher
Today a woman told me she didn’t think she had a drinking problem because she never drank to feel better, or even to get high, the way others did; she drank so she didn’t have to feel anything. She found her emotions intolerable, and she drank aiming for oblivion. She wasn’t an alcoholic, she said, she was just self-medicating.
Okay. Yup. Sure.
Canadian edition of OUR DAILY BREAD
Well, OUR DAILY BREAD is out in Canada now, and I’m delighted with the Canadian edition. Beautiful new cover, deckle edges, French flaps. I think Harper Collins has done a terrific job, and so far the response from readers has been good.
Which means, of course, I have to start thinking about what I’m going to write next. Actually, I’ve just finished a new novel, a speculative look at what a day (okay, a REALLY BAD day) in the life of a woman very much like me might look like, had I not stopped drinking seventeen years ago.
Last week I received a request from one of the chaplains at the nearby hospital to visit a woman suffering from what may well be the last stages of alcoholism. This was her fourth time in hospital in twelve months.
I admit my heart sank.
Although I am part of a fellowship that understands helping other alcoholics get sober is the best way to stay sober oneself, such calls are often grim and sad. Still, of course, I agreed to go. I called a dear friend I’ll call Ms. H., since experience tells us it is best not to go alone on such visits.
Where I spent too many years . . .
I am very pleased to have an interview up on “The Drinking Diaries” site — which explores the relationship between women and alcohol. You can read the interview by clicking here.
I hope you find something useful in it.
St. Mary's by the Sea, Retreat House in Cape May Point. (Michael S. Wirtz/ photo)
I recently spent the weekend in silence and centering prayer at a retreat center run by the Sisters of Saint Joseph in Cape May. It’s a glorious place overlooking the dunes and sea. I was there with some other folks who, like me, are trying to stay sober one day at a time.
Not one of 'us'?
My new book, OUR DAILY BREAD, which will be out in September explores the idea of ‘us’ vs ‘them’. Who do we consider members of our community, of our family, of our tribe?
As many of you know, I spend a lot of time in church basement rooms with other people who want to stay clean and sober one day at a time. One of the things that never ceases to amaze me is how alike we all are, even though we may seem very different at first glance. In these rooms are people of every race, of every economic level, nationality, every occupation and age group. The guy just out of prison sits next to the cop, the hooker sits next to the nun . . . and so on. Here, we are all members of the same group — the only thing you need for admission is a desire to stop drinking or drugging.
I’m in the midst of editing my new novel, OUR DAILY BREAD, which will be released in the US in September. It’s the story of what happens in a small town when, for generations, certain folks have been ostracized, pushed away and left to fend for themselves. Considered Those People—beyond the pale, beyond redemption—they become resentful, insular, self-hating, inbred, almost feral. Think a rural LORD OF THE FLIES with grown-ups.
Just now I am deep in research for my next book, which involves reading a lot of fairy tales. One is “The Snow Queen” by Hans Christian Anderson. It is, in parts, rather treacly, but the central metaphor is a powerful metaphor for addiction. In this tale a demon creates a mirror that distorts the world — turning every beautiful thing ugly, magnifying every flaw to horrific proportion.
The distorted lens -- illustration from THE SNOW QUEEN by Edmund Dulac
I spend a lot of time with people like me, who want to stay sober one day at a time, and nearly every day I’m reminded of just how defective our perceptions and judgments are.
For example, a while ago a young man trying to stay sober called me from another city and told me he was calling to “tell on himself,” meaning he needed to tell someone he was thinking of doing something he knew wasn’t in his best interests.
“What’s up?” I said.
oh, the allure...
I was in England recently, where there is an ongoing debate about how much folks are drinking. If you Google “binge drinking” and “UK” a depressingly long list of sites pop up. The Brits are trying a number of things to curb the epidemic – physicians now ask their patients directly about their drinking habits, cheap booze prices are under threat, bars and pubs that stay open after 11pm will have to pay a “law and order” fee due to concerns over the levels of drink-fueled disorder, and a shocking (and rather good, I think) PSA campaign is underway.
