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The Lost Weekend by Charles Jackson
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The Lost Weekend (1944)

by Charles Jackson

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Wow. I can't say I've read many books centered on addiction to begin with, but I also find it hard to believe that anyone has ever written as believable an account of it as this. Don Birnam is clearly a man who is more introspective and sensitive than most, but he is also a man completely beholden to the vice of liquor. He will do absolutely anything (well, almost anything) for a drink, all the while understanding that his desire will lead to nothing more than wanton destruction. From the very beginning of the weekend and the novel, Don fully acknowledges that he knows exactly the path he will take in his quest for booze and further that he understands where this quest will ultimately lead. He knows he is hurting many more people aside from himself, but he persists with his behavior because he quite literally cannot stop. Hospital visits, near-run-ins with the law, a lack of money...all of these are minor obstacles for Don as he seeks out alcohol. Mr. Jackson has captured the mindset of the alcoholic perfectly (he unfortunately speaks from experience) and it is a paralyzing sad account indeed.

I think what struck me most was Don's understanding of self, even while drunk, while still being completely powerless to stop his own sickening behavior. There are only a few true events that occur to Don over the course of his lost weekend, but through the lens of these happenings he truly examines every nook and corner of his psyche. This is a must read for anyone who wants to understand the addict or for anyone who wants to observe how one singular, terrible character flaw can absolutely render destruction at every turn. ( )
  Raven9167 | Apr 13, 2013 |
Of all the novels I’ve read about alcoholics, I think Charles Jackson’s The Lost Weekend (1944) comes closest to giving you an idea of what it’s like to be an alcoholic. It’s probably only remembered today because of Billy Wilder’s surprisingly good movie adaptation, which garnered four Oscars, including best picture of 1945. The book is not very well written – Jackson is awkward and his literary references and dips into stream of consciousness come across as pretentious – but its realism and unflinching honesty still shock.

The semi-autobiographical story revolves around a five-day drinking binge rife with blackouts, humiliations and overwhelming desperation. The protagonist, Don Birnam, is a failed writer tortured by his repressed homosexuality and guilt towards his younger brother and his girlfriend. The book is so agonizing largely because of Birnam’s self-awareness; he realizes how horribly he’s acting and how helpless he is to stop it. There are many harrowing scenes, but possibly the most distressful one has Birnam, in terrible physical pain and desperate for another drink, hobbling through New York City looking for a place to pawn the coat he stole from his girlfriend.

Lacking any humor and suffused with anxiety and regret, The Lost Weekend is a tough read. Where the movie ends in an ambiguous note – optimistic viewers could interpret the scene as a turning point in Birnam’s drinking – the book does not offer any palliatives. Neither does the author’s life – after a long period of sobriety he relapsed and eventually committed suicide.

Judging from the book’s modernist flourishes, I think Jackson would have preferred to have written Under the Volcano, but he clearly didn’t have the chops. Which might have been a good thing, as too much art would have blunted his novel’s impact. ( )
  giovannigf | Aug 13, 2012 |
You've seen the movie, now read the book! And discover in the process that the hero is hitting the bottle, not because he has writer's block, as portrayed by Ray Milland, but because he is a closeted gay man. I guess Hollywood wasn't ready for that in 1945.
  booksaplenty1949 | Mar 8, 2012 |
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» Add other authors (8 possible)

Author nameRoleType of authorWork?Status
Charles Jacksonprimary authorall editionsconfirmed
Eggink, ClaraTranslatorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
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Ik ken je. O ja? Zijn woede nam ote. Dat was het probleem met de homa en hij had het niet over de homo sapiens. Zw waren er altijd zo verdomd op gebrand om iedere man die ze niet konden versieren ervan te verdenken dat hij alleen maar onverschilligheid veinsde om zich daardoor des te aantrekkelijker te maken, zw earen er zo verdomd op gebrand om te geloven dat ze hun eigen ontaarding met alle anderen deelden. Hij had er nog nooit een gekend die niet dacht dat iedere andere nog levende of dode of not ve verwekken man er ook een zweempje van had. Tja, wie had er geen zweempje van, of zelfs tien zweempjes. Maar gaf die discutabele mogelijkheid hun het recht door het leven te gaan met dat zelfgenoegzaam grijnzende weten dat van hun mooie gezicht afstraalde alsof het een vaststaand feit was? Alsof ze stonden te popelen om de wereld te vertellen dat ze meer over jou wisten dan jij? Ena als hun blik er een van herkenning was, waarom sprak er dan ook minachting uit? Wanneer ze je als broeder verwelkomden, verachtten ze je om dezelfde reden. Niemand was sneller met het 'mietje', en ook nog eens spottend gebruikt, dan het mietje zelf - zoals de Jood die ineenkrimpt bij het woord 'smous' maar het twee keer zo vaak bezigt als alle anderen; zoals de neger die om de haverklap ' nikker' zeg; zoals de tbc-patient die met heimelijke voldoening glimlacht vanaf zijn kussen omdat de veelbetekenende blos op de wangen van zijn medelijdende bezoeker al te duidelijk verraadt dat hij de volgende zals zijn. 2014 blz. 190 -191
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Amazon.com Product Description (ISBN 081560419X, Paperback)

This book was first published in 1944 and also made into a film. It deals with the subject of alcoholism, and is seen through the eyes of Don Birnam. He is an intelligent, cultured man with a loving family but as an alcoholic he has crazed imaginings which lead to depression.

(retrieved from Amazon Mon, 30 Sep 2013 13:52:39 -0400)

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