In this memoir, Wurtzel chronicles her journey through drug addiction, rehab, countless relapses and, finally, recovery. She abuses Ritalin, cocaine and SAT vocab words like salubrious. Her tale–loaded with porn-watching, shoplifting, prison and compulsive leg-hair tweezing–is as amped up as she is. There are even fun facts for addicts. The restaurants Le Bernardin and the Gramercy Tavern in New York apparently offer excellent bathroom stalls for snorting in privacy, with their floor-length doors. Wurtzel also recommends certain hardback books for this: “Best to put the lid on the commode and cut lines on a black-covered book or magazine, so long as it has a shiny, nonporous surface.” The cover of her book, by the way, has more of a matte finish.
The drug abuse in this story starts where the mood stabilizers she discovered in 1994’s “Prozac Nation” left off. They don’t seem to be working for her anymore, so her doctor prescribes Ritalin to boost their effect. Wurtzel, who’s dabbled in heroin and other deadly fixes, is lulled by the fact that her doctor has sanctioned this drug, even if it is speed. Soon she’s snorting 40 pulverized Ritalin pills a day, focusing excessively, alone in her mother’s apartment in Florida. But she’s embarrassed to admit her addiction–not so much because she’s ashamed of being an addict, but because Ritalin is so dorky, the drug of choice, she says, for first graders. Unfortunately, this revelation is pretty much the last we see of Wurtzel’s sense of humor about herself.
In fact, the 34-year-old writer is downright unappealing throughout the book. “Look, you don’t know what it’s like to be me,” she tells her editor. “I have so much–you don’t know what it’s like to have all these things that are supposed to make you happy, and still, and still–” But Wurtzel’s peculiar magic is her ability to entertain despite failing to inspire a lick of sympathy. She’s the Carson Daly of memoirists: her show may be a rubbernecky, guilty pleasure, but who can say why she’s a star?
Wurtzel might venture some guesses. After all, she relentlessly quotes praise of her alleged brains and bodily charm. Though the book has some real insight into addiction, it is even more enlightening about megalomania. While most addicts’ rock-bottom is realizing death will be next, Wurtzel’s is missing the photo shoot for a Coach ad.
Luckily, her vanity will get another chance this June, when the movie adaptation of “Prozac Nation,” starring Christina Ricci, hits theaters. Wurtzel may have recovered from addiction, but she sure hasn’t gotten over herself.
More, Now, AgainElizabeth Wurtzel (Simon & Schuster)
