Not many books are worth giving up sleep for. This one was. I felt horror at the narrator’s situation; fear and empathy curled up together. I have seldom read a clearer and more intimate portrait of addiction. This book made me question my own life, my choices and my thought process. The way the narrator continually lies to herself and others throughout the book is maddening and mesmerizing. The fate of her baby provided a rich vein of tension and waiting for her partner to finally have had enough had me riveted. It was impossible for me to read this without putting myself in Bydlowska’s shoes; and isn’t that the main point of great narrative non-fiction?
Find it here.