From Publishers Weekly
In this robustly vicious, often outrageously slapstick first novel, drug-addicted alcoholic Ed T. joins a substance-abuse program HDA (Hard Drugs Anonymous) to sober up and win back his wife and sons. Filled with rage against dealers and himself, Ed immediately wavers in his resolve and visits a crack house where an accident with a crack pipe ("call it God, call it Freud, call it fate") leads him to kill the dealer and steal his money, his gun and his bloodthirsty dog. Sensing anew the possibility of recovery, Ed begins his personal 12-step crusade to rid the world of drug dealers and other street scum. In a first-person narrative that smacks of a lengthy acquaintance with AA, Ed turns self-help cliches on their heads to justify murder in a world where anything can be an addiction and spawn its own 12-step response. On one hand, Ed's tale is a brutal descent into urban degradation; on another, it's a hilarious parody of recovery programs (and the overused concept of addiction), placing Ed, a Jim Thompson-like character, in the middle of a Terry Southern-style satire. A classic comic ending, featuring prison inmates gathered for a BKA (Brutal Killers Anonymous) meeting, wraps up this alternately disturbing and laugh-out-loud debut. Copyright 1993 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From Library Journal
In his first novel, Guinzburg, who hails from a publishing family (his grandfather founded Viking), has created a cynical, seedy look at life in "Crack City," where addicts chant "Beam me up, Scotty" as they smoke the crack that takes them into another dimension. Ed, a recently detoxed drug addict, alcoholic, and sociopath, struggles with his damaged life and tenuous sobriety. It is at Hard Drugs Anonymous (HDA), a 12-step recovery program, that Ed learns about sobriety by attending meetings and forming new relationships. There is Myron/Myra, who is saving nickels for his sex-change operation; Rachel, a young and luscious sex addict; and Frank, a disgraced former cop. Guinzburg has cleverly depicted the HDA meetings; his dialog is true-to-life and quite explicit. The true story is, in turn, comical, satirical, violent, and shocking, as Ed takes the war on drugs into his own hands with the help of Natasha, his bull terrier. Not for the fainthearted, this well-written, chilling novel, optioned for a film, is for adventurous readers who thrive on collections of new fiction.- Stacie Browne Chandler, Plymouth P.L., Mass.Copyright 1993 Reed Business Information, Inc.

FROM THE PUBLISHER

Scotty" (crack) has had its way with Ed, but he finds his way back through the message of Hard Drugs Anonymous, taking their Twelve Steps to the streets of the East Village and dealing salvation in lethal doses. Like Irvine Welsh's Trainspotting, an addictive read.

FROM THE CRITICS

Publishers Weekly

In this robustly vicious, often outrageously slapstick first novel, drug-addicted alcoholic Ed T. joins a substance-abuse program HDA (Hard Drugs Anonymous) to sober up and win back his wife and sons. Filled with rage against dealers and himself, Ed immediately wavers in his resolve and visits a crack house where an accident with a crack pipe (``call it God, call it Freud, call it fate'') leads him to kill the dealer and steal his money, his gun and his bloodthirsty dog. Sensing anew the possibility of recovery, Ed begins his personal 12-step crusade to rid the world of drug dealers and other street scum. In a first-person narrative that smacks of a lengthy acquaintance with AA, Ed turns self-help cliches on their heads to justify murder in a world where anything can be an addiction and spawn its own 12-step response. On one hand, Ed's tale is a brutal descent into urban degradation; on another, it's a hilarious parody of recovery programs (and the overused concept of addiction), placing Ed, a Jim Thompson-like character, in the middle of a Terry Southern-style satire. A classic comic ending, featuring prison inmates gathered for a BKA (Brutal Killers Anonymous) meeting, wraps up this alternately disturbing and laugh-out-loud debut. (June)

Library Journal