David Sheff

35 years after my first reading, as per usual, this time the book hit me completely differently. All that time ago, I was a heartbroken Beatles fan still mourning the loss of a life taken too soon. And I was all of 19.

Back then, I could accept the somewhat spacier of John and Yoko's beliefs. I came at their words as a true believer.

Now, as the father of two, much more jaded by life, but still a Beatles and Lennon fan, and still mourning his loss, as well as George's, all these years later, I show more come at the book still admiring the man, admiring his convictions, his desperate search for peace, both within and without. I love how each deferred to the other, finished each others' sentences and, sometimes, gently disagreed with each other.

Harder to accept is their views on parenthood, but that's always a personal choice.

But, more than anything, what I took away from this interview series this time was, perhaps for the first time, John was human. He said incredibly intelligent things, he said dumbfoundingly stupid things, he said funny things, he said heartbreaking things.

John was, first a foremost, before he was a Beatle, a musician, a father, a husband, a champion of peace, he was a human being, with all the foibles and mistakes built in. Not a God, not someone to worship, hell, maybe not even someone to look up to.

But definitely someone we could learn from.

And I still am saddened that I live in a world without him. show less

To be a parent means you are only as happy as your most unhappy child — this is never more profound as when your child is an addict.

For parents of children who are not addicts, you will never know the grief, pain, loss, desperation, angst, guilt, anger, betrayal, and unimaginable fear we with addict children go through. I envy you.

Beautiful Boy is a raw story of love and misery that one man goes through with his addict son. Sheff’s authentic introspection says it all: “I became show more addicted to my child’s addiction.” We parents of addicts become preoccupied, at the expense of other responsibilities, marriage, other children, work, friends, church. We justify. We beg. We make deals. We compromise, with them, and with our selves. And we never stop loving them.

This is not a read for the weak. This is an in the trenches look at what it feels like to go through the ups and downs of life with an addict. This is not pretty. But this is necessary to know. Addiction is a disease of the brain that only the addict can choose to control. None of the platitudes work: They can just stop. It’s a choice. No one is making them take the drink/drug. And that is the rub for us parents: How can I not try to fix my child? How can I sit back and watch? How can they do this to themselves, to me, to their family? What could I have done differently? What did I do wrong? But again, this is about the addict and we parents just have to ride the waves, arms open for the fall; and the fall always comes. Hopefully, the fall will just be a slip, not a life altering or ending one.

I have heard this book has been made into a movie, I’m sure it’s great. But my guess is that the book is far more powerful with its written descriptions of emotion, feeling, and fear. If you are going through it, or if you have been through it, or if you know someone who is in the through of a child with an addiction, this is one for you. I wish you well, you are not alone. show less

Drug addiction is a living hell. Not just for the addict, but for the family that rides a terrifying roller-coaster marked by relapses and rehab – over and over.
I’ve lived this hell. My older brother was hard-core drug addict. It began in the late 1960s when I was 10 years old. It ended one afternoon in 1976 when I came home from high school. I saw the crowd in our kitchen. I knew exactly what it meant. Then, for almost 25 years, I hated myself for the feeling that overpowered me that show more winter afternoon. It was relief. Pure relief. The seven-year-long nightmare was over.
It took me more than two decades following Billy’s overdose to come to grips with my feelings. In Sheff’s stunning memoir, he grapples with many colliding emotions. How can you love someone so much, yet hate him – or at least hate what he does? How can a little kid possibly understand that his big brother – so kind and giving on some days – is also a pathological liar? A thief? Possibly even a menace? How does a family avoid utter destruction when every ring of the phone and every jiggle of the doorknob trigger feelings of profound dread? When do you finally give up? Or don’t you?
“Beautiful Boy” was one of the most painful books I’ve ever read – and one of the most meaningful. No, it doesn’t provide many answers. But for those damaged souls who have “been there,” the Sheff family saga will strike a chord with every turn of the page.
It’s pretty clear to me now that for most addicts, long-term, inpatient rehabilitation is the only possible hope. My brother spent no more than a couple weeks at a time in rehab, and usually less than that. I often wonder if things might have been different if Billy’s problems had manifested themselves in the 1980s or 90s. We seem to know a lot more about addictions now than we did in the 60s and early 70s.
One of the book’s most important themes focuses on how unbridled love can actually turn caring people into destructive enablers. I’m among those who believe that addicts must face the harsh reality that there are no more safety nets. Addicts must feel alone, broke, desolate and desperate if there’s any hope of permanent recovery. They must understand that the family bank is closed, the kitchen is shuttered and the only option left is long-term rehab.
The book also raises the jolting prospect that some people who are close to drug addicts become “addicted to the addiction,” allowing the problem to govern every facet of their lives. From the time I was 10 until I turned 17, Billy’s drug addiction overshadowed so much of our lives. I only now realize how isolated I felt. Very few of my friends knew what was going on; it was too shameful to admit. In those days, “normal families” didn’t include druggies. My little brother – 10 years my junior – was too young to understand what was happening. My sister – who is seven years older – was away at college for most of the traumatic era. Sheff’s brilliant book touches on feelings of isolation that grip younger siblings, and the importance of getting them counseling.
It’s understandable why some reviewers have grumbled that the book tends to be repetitive in spots, even suggesting that the author should have delivered a “shorter read.” But that’s the horror of addiction. It’s the never-ending pattern of relapse/promises/rehab, relapse/promises/rehab, etc. If Sheff had streamlined this maddening cycle in order to deliver a readable or more “accessible” tome, it would have been less genuine.
“Beautiful Boy” looks at addiction through the eyes of a father. One day, I will also read Nic’s book. But I need to wait. One journey a year down this particular memory lane is more than enough.
I commend David and Nic for sharing this harrowing tale. It shows courage. I want to say “thanks,” but this word seems empty. Perhaps another word is more fitting: “everything.” show less

Gotta say, I was pleasantly surprised by this biography. I was interested in reading it, but I didn't think I'd enjoy it—or find as much insight—as I did.

Did I think Sheff may have glossed over some things? Certainly. Anyone who's been a close friend for almost fifty years likely can't help but do that.

But do I agree with Sheff that Yoko isn't quite the dragon lady and Beatles buster and screaming banshee she's almost always been portrayed as? Completely agree. While her music has never show more been my cup of tea, she's absolutely been ahead of her time with what she produced over the years, and the same can be said for all of her artwork.

She was influential on John—like it or not—and I think she opened first his eyes, and then the world's, to different views that, while they may not always have been pleasant, they were true.

This book is illuminating. Recommended. show less