Somehow simultaneously interesting and boring, I gave it one extra star for its well-meaning likeability. Light on details, it left me wondering about how exactly it was he found spirituality, or if he just went to it as a new addiction without much reflection. While I can understand why he'd shy away from gory details of his dark days, it almost gave the impression that they weren't as dire as he let on. His ego and sense of martyrdom have been preserved throughout the recovery process. But, hey, whatever works, and he's genuine and sincere even as he misses having any real insight. As an artifact of a mostly decent but deeply flawed human being, it was interesting.

Plus he cited Joseph Heller's "Something Awful" as his favorite novel, and told a kick ass "Jackie Gleason was a bastard" story and that's worth a star in itself. ( )

"It is an incredibly scary thought to me now that I would ever have allowed my passion for comedy to take a backseat to booze. But I did it and rationalized every second, without a care in the world, until I almost died. It was so sneaky, too, how this willingness to annihilate myself grew inside me with every swallow of booze. I mean I have some of the fastest segues in the business while on stage as a comedian, but my cleverness pales by comparison to how satanically clever this disease is as it begins to dictate one's path to destruction."

This is another one out of the mountainous stack brought home during that fabulous bookstore sale. Richard Lewis is (or was) a stand-up comedian but I recognized him from a sitcom I used to watch faithfully years ago. (So long ago actually that I had to IMDb it to find the title. Gawd, I'm getting old!) The show was called "Anything But Love" and all I can remember is that I liked it, watched it, and thought Lewis was funny. I also liked the title of this book which is, after reading it, pretty fitting. I've never had an addiction myself (except books, coffee, movies, and a few sitcoms on TV - oh, and chocolate!) but other people's addictions have impacted my life. And usually not in a good way. So maybe I felt compelled to read what it was like inside the head of an addict, since I've had a front-row seat to this little movie I like to call "Dysfunction Junction" for quite a while. I can, at this point in life, thankfully report that most of the people in my life (family members on both sides, my ex-husband, who I think had the hardest addiction to kick, have managed to sober up, fight their demons, and get happy). Until then, it was quite a show. Two thumbs way, way down.

Regardless of my very personal interest in the subject, I nearly Pearl Ruled this book. The tea-cup ride at Disneyland has a more linear, straight-forward trajectory than Lewis's writing. By page 47 I grew rather tired, of what was coming off to me, as his narcissistic, circular whining. And what Lewis calls "rigorously honest" I found rather vulgar and crude at times, i.e. way too much information (like a four page somewhat detailed account on how he lost his virginity). So, I was just about to 86 the whole effort but then there was a bit of a turn around on page 50 when he starts reminiscing about how he met the mother of Lenny Bruce (his idol) and Buster Keaton's widow (Keaton being another idol of his). That's when the book started to hold my interest and I'm glad I read it because I learned something here: there's not much difference between the dysfunctional thinking going inside the mind of the addict and the mind of the codependent/enabler/Adult Child of an Alcoholic (or other dysfunction) that goes (or went) along for the ride. Yeah. That would be me!

Example #1: "It's easy to know when you're funny, but much harder to know when you're f***ed up. I mean, how can you know? You're f***ed up. So eventually I was no longer just watching old movies about alcoholics. I was living my own." Not easy to know that you're living a dysfunctional life either, unless, thankfully, in my case, somebody cared enough to tell me: "That's not normal; that's wrong!" Really? I was just that clueless. Consciously clueless, but still, clueless.

Example #2: "Denial is so profound, and requires so much self-deception and lying, that drinking becomes a full-time job. In fact, once you've hit that addictive stage it becomes a new career." Denial! Oh, boy, do I know that one. I think if I was a Superhero, denial would be my superpower. It takes a lot of mental prowess to convince yourself that someone else's addiction that's impacting your life "is not that bad/is not that bad"; "I can fix this" and close your eyes to evidence that is, literally, right in front of your face. I could tell you stories out of the book I'm writing called "Jaw-Dropping Feats of Denial." Brother! I like to think I live in the real world now, but when you're living with an addict, there is no reality, except the hellish one they're pulling you through. Hell: not a place to live or visit. I've seen the brochures.

Anyway, back to Lewis.

It took two interventions and some time before Lewis actually decided to sober up and live his life. And he's very, very candid about his path to destruction and his path back to sobriety. When this book was published (2007) he was celebrating his 14th year of sobriety. He's very realistic about what a hard task sobering up is; people just don't go get sober and all of a sudden the sun comes out and everything is perfect. All those issues and feelings that caused the addictions in the first place have to be dealt with - without the help of the bottle, or the line, or the food, or the sex, or whatever someone's drug of choice is. Lewis is/was addicted to all of the above. Addiction is addiction; escape from reality is escape from reality, no matter the substance or method of escape. It is an every day battle, but according to Lewis, worth every second by second struggle to finally grow up, sober up, and be happy.

Even though I struggled getting through this book, I'm glad I read it because it gave me some insight into myself, which came as a bit of a surprise, really.

I think this would be a great book for someone who is actually addicted (to whatever) and struggling. By the end of the book I forgave Lewis for his somewhat narcissistic, whiny ways because there seemed to be a point to it all:

"Before my recovery and even well into my recovery, I made everything that was good - and everything that was sh** - worse. Don't be ashamed. Don't feel like it's impossible. Don't think too much. I stopped drinking a second at a time. When I got through the first minute the second one was easier. Only now do I have a chance to live out my life with any shot at feeling contentment.

I wish that for you. Help is out there if you reach for it. " ( )

self indulgent, repetitive, not very revealing

For my money, Richard Lewis is one of the funniest men on the planet. The actor / comedian has had a successful career spanning three decades, and is loved by many. However, some fifteen years ago, he nearly died after the alcoholism which he had been battling largely in private finally took it's toll.

This is not a comedic book, nor is it intended to be (although certain parts are laugh out loud funny). Instead, Lewis tells us of his life from a young boy growing up in a dysfunctional family, to his descent into alcoholism, and finally his battle to overcome his addiction. It is not a conventional autobiography, told chronologically; rather it is a collection of essays on all manner of subjects - the aforementioned family, alcoholism and recovery, and other subjects such as his idols, specific incidents in his career, and random musings, which all piece together to tell a very honest tale.

His honesty is what makes this book so readable - Lewis is, by his own admission, self-centred and narcissistic, but he also shows great compassion and understanding of what anybody battling an addiction is facing. He is truthful in admitting that life still sucks sometimes even after one has got sober, and that overcoming his alcoholism wasn't like a magic formula which instantly made life wonderful. He has many neuroses and worries, which he discusses with frankness (I got the impression that writing this book was definitely a cathartic experience for him). He doesn't try to offer solutions for others with similar problems - he merely talks about what, finally, worked for him. ( )

While Lewis displays courage in sharing his painful journey through alcoholism and recovery in a very public forum, much of his commentary is repetitive and self-absorbed. The book could be condensed into a much shorter and more concise narrative. ( )