Cocaine's Son

November 29, 2010
In his second memoir, New York Times reporter Itzkoff (Lads) turns his attention to his father, an outlandish man who was a drug addict for most of his life. He begins by explaining how his father's cocaine habit made him, as a little boy, believe his father "was the product of my imagination." As father and son try to resolve the problems created by such an upbringing, they find themselves in couples therapy, which leads to a closer yet still strained relationship. The author begins to understand his father by finding out what his dad's favorite albums to snort cocaine to were, attending reunions, and visiting his father's old neighborhood. These historical undertakings have mixed results, both in terms of fixing his relationship with his dad and as relatable stories for his readers. The episodic narrative at times loses momentum. Still, Itzkoff is a talented writer, and whether he is describing his parents' free-spirited lifestyle before he was born as "their Martin Scorsese years" or composing a chapter using only dialogue to demonstrate "How We Argue in My Family," his prose proves both entertaining and sensitive enough to make this a worthy addition to the recent array of addiction-based memoirs.

November 1, 2010

A son's attempt to salvage a relationship with his cocaine-addict father.

New York Times culture reporter Itzkoff (Lads: A Memoir of Manhood, 2004) explores the complications of forgiving a man who may have deserved no second chances. As a boy, the author viewed his father as an ally in the fight against Hebrew School, but he soon realized that these minor heroics did little to make up for his mysterious absences. Though he was unable to discern his father's secret, Itzkoff's mother revealed the truth: "He's a drug addict, Davey," she informed him. "He's been addicted to cocaine almost your whole life." Years passed, though the author continued to struggle to understand his abnormal familial circumstances. While in college, Itzkoff paid a rare visit to his father's office and saw a display of family photos that he deemed incapable of telling the "complete story of a family." The author's memoir picks up where the "profoundly untrue" display left off, offering a front-row seat to his father's addiction. Yet despite witnessing his father at his worst—"all that remained in the room were a few rolled-up dollar bills on a nightstand, a glossy porno magazine on the floor, and a frightened old man shivering on the bed, his nostrils cemented shut with a mixture of blood and mucus, his eyelids sealed closed by some bodily fluid whose origins I couldn't even guess at"—the author also became a drug user, experimenting primarily with marijuana, though he tried cocaine as well. Itzkoff's sheepish admission of personal guilt removes the possibility of a moral high ground, and to the book's benefit, levels the playing field, allowing both father and son to face their struggles together. The pair attempted to overcome their obstacles by attending joint therapy, utilizing their drug use as common ground for a fresh start. But after the therapy proved unsuccessful, Itzkoff made one final attempt at reconciliation—this time, simply by listening to his father's painful tale from start to finish and beginning the slow work of righting the wrongs of the past.

A satisfying journey into the depths of hard-heartedness and the struggle to heal an old wound.

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