One doesn’t hear about opium per se these days. I became curious immediately, especially that the author of this tome was still among the living. To be clear, I’ve not used opium or any of its derivatives knowingly. I have known several people who did. Certainly nothing comes close to the exotic opium smoking Steven Martin conveys here. One assumes an opium fiend to hold the less glamorous title: addict. It is at this point, trying to break the addiction, that Steven Martin begins his personal story.
The book is rich with Asian history and tales that surround opium’s mysterious, though sordid, rise in popularity. Martin, a collector of opium smoking paraphernalia, is masterful in his ability to captivate the reader and carry them along in this dangerous and illegal foray. It isn’t long before he becomes prisoner to the pipe. However, three quarters of the way through the book, I was tired of being a spectator to this self-indulgent, self-aggrandizing adventure. But honestly, I didn’t want to miss a word he wrote. Fortunately, the author’s tale takes a turn for the better. All of the people in his story were not so fortunate.
The writing is spectacular, and the neighborhoods and shacks where Martin finds company with his muse bloom in the imagination. At times I felt intensely interested wanting to be present where this activity might be taking place, and actually, I have no real desire for such things. My concern is that his portrayal of opium smoking will be found alluring to a new generation. I give this book four stars. It’s a boldly honest book, and if you choose to read it, not one you will soon forget.
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher through the Amazon Vine Program,
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