Author: Tony O'Neill
This book is depressing. I think that it is intended to be at least semi-autobiographical, and honestly, the way he has written, I could not imagine any person describing his experiences in such gruesome detail without having experienced it himself. A junkie and his junkie wife living in LA, then London, unconvincingly battle their addiction.
I still haven't figured out how I really feel about this book.
Edit: Two things are true: O'Neill seems to be quite careless with his writing, and his editor is not terribly meticulous. I have seen the word "where" used in place of "were" at least twice, and there have been many blatant typos, particularly letters missing entirely from words.
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