Exposing the Myth of a Popular Book: Rick Emerson's Unmask Alice

 Unmask Alice: LSD, Satanic Panic, and the Imposter Behind the World's Most Notorious Diaries by Rick Emerson

Unmask Alice book cover

As someone who grew up slightly terrified of drugs because I ended up reading Go Ask Alice in 5^th grade (around the time DARE infiltrated my school), I was both excited and somewhat confused to read this book. It’s still somewhat hard for me to accept that Go Ask Alice isn’t a real book since I really loved the book and felt a kind of connection to  Alice. Although it’s not necessarily the same as Anne Frank’s diary, I think I also read that book around the same time, and these were both young people who were experiencing similar issues in adolescence as me. Emerson takes a deep dive in exploring the life and “experience” of Beatrice Sparks, the real writer behind Go Ask Alice and Jay’s Journal, another “diary” from a troubled adolescent. In reading this, Alice’s experiences and views make more sense. I always wondered about many of her experiences on drugs and how she was able to write about them, but seeing how Sparks took her experience working with troubled adolescents as well as capitalizing on the death of Diane Linkletter, I can see how these were kind of general perceptions and fear mongering form adults against drugs painted with incredibly broad strokes. It was amazing to learn how someone like Beatrice Sparks could lie about her degrees and experiences and end up gaining the kind of trust and responsibilities that she did. Although this still happens, I think it is less likely to happen now. I was amazed that she was viewed as a kind of early mental health expert and counselor, despite not having a college degree. It was really surprising to see how readily people accepted and believed her. One of the joys about this book was that Emerson was a lot like other young readers growing up in the 70s and 80s who came across Go Ask Alice and were so drawn in by this terrifying tale of hippies. His sarcasm and contempt for Sparks make the read much more enjoyable, as he frequently calls her to account for completely lying about her credentials, and potentially putting at risk kids at greater risk. Furthermore, Sparks’s betrayal of these young people’s trust and confidentiality are even more shocking and upsetting. The fact that Sparks was able to exploit and profit from these troubled teens’ lives and problems is wrong. I really enjoyed this book, even though it kind of challenged my assumptions about a powerful book that has resonated with me across the years. 

A Forgotten Hero of the American Counterculture: Agents of Chaos by Sean Howe

 Agents of Chaos: Thomas King Forcade, High Times, and the Paranoid End of the 1970s 

by Sean Howe

Agents of Chaos book cover

Just looking at the title and cover page, I knew this was a book for me. Sean Howe’s Agents of Chaos tells the story of Thomas King Forçade, who not only founded High Times magazine, but was also a proponent of Gonzo Journalism and happenings of the late 1960s and early 1970s. The entire story is incredible and hard to believe. Nevertheless, Howe’s detailed reporting and descriptive narration allows readers to experience the various activist events and uprisings that occurred with the Yippy movement. While reading this, I was amazed that I had not known about Forçade previously, despite knowing more about some of those with whom he worked. I can kind of understand why he may have been forgotten over time—he seemed to like to provoke people to see what their reaction was; however, through his provocations, he also worked to push the boundaries and limitations about social norms, especially regarding drugs, in the 1960s and 1970s. It was amazing to see some of the events he participated in, whether trying to organize events like those of the Merry Pranksters, or working to organize failed music festivals that have been forgotten. Howe’s research and reconstruction of the events kept me picking up the book at all times, wanting to find out what kind of situation Forçade would find himself in again. There are some really entertaining situations and events, and many of them were unbelievable. Yet, people seem to have fond memories of him. Although the last section of the book, about how High Times started is probably the strongest and most entertaining part of the book, the lead up to this section also has some really crazy events mostly detailing Forçade’s work with the Yippies and his eventual falling out with them. A really entertaining and elucidating read about someone who may have been forgotten, but a highly important contributor to various movements, especially around alternative journalism in the 1960s and 1970s, and someone whose contributions to media transparency and presenting differing viewpoints are really appreciated today.

Humanizing the War on Drugs: Donovan X Ramsey's When Crack Was King

 When Crack was King: A People's History of a Misunderstood Era by Donovan X. Ramsey

When Crack was King book cover

Author and Journalist Donovan X. Ramey

Donovan Ramsey's excellent book "When Crack Was King" seeks to humanize and reframe the crack epidemic of the 80's and 90's during the current opioid epidemic and does so with a well researched history of crack and its spread of terror and addiction interspersed with personal stories from those most affected by it. This is a book that is much needed to reframe the narrative and present the crack epidemic as a public health issue rather than a criminal problem or as a part of the failed war on drugs. Ramsey's research is excellent, covering the history of cocaine and how it evolved into the less expensive form of crack. Like other books that examine the systemic issues in the justice system (Michelle Alexander's The New Jim Crow, Balko's The Rise of the Warrior Cop), Ramsey examines how news and media misrepresented the drug and allowed it to be reframed as a crime issue. This ultimately led to unjust laws as politicians sought to capitalize on the fear mongering from the war on drugs. It was interesting to read about Kurt Schmoke, who I didn't know about previously. As the first African American mayor of Baltimore, Schmoke was on the front line of dealing with both a heroin and crack epidemic in Baltimore. One of the reasons I may not have heard as much about him was that he proposed some radical ideas about viewing the crack epidemic as a public health issue rather than a criminal or legal issue. This completely sensical but unpopular view failed to gain the kind of traction it needed and allowed crack to continue to gain steam as well as leading to overpopulation and representation in the prison system. Ramsey's research and spotlight on Schmoke allows us to hear some of the voices of reason during the failed war on drugs and consider how these voices were largely drowned out by other politicians seeking to frame inner cities as war zones.

While Ramsey's research is insightful, the strength of this book lies in the interviews of those most affected by the crack epidemic-- the recovered addicts, the dealers, and the children of addicts. Their stories and strength were testament to the fact that drugs are not a death sentence, but with community and support, people can and do overcome the serious health problems related to addiction. Furthermore, these stories helped to humanize a period in American history that the media and politicians have largely tried to paint as more of an illicit or criminal epoch. Ramsey's writing ties the historical and factual data with the stories of those who took, sold or were affected by crack. This is a highly recommended and much needed account to challenge many of the prevailing narratives of crack and reframe it as a public health issue in the way we tend to think about opioid addiction.

America's Hidden History of Mind Control: Project Mind Control: Sidney Gottlieb, the CIA, and the Tragedy of MKULTRA by John Lisle

 Project Mind Control: Sidney Gottlieb, the CIA, and the Tragedy of MKULTRA by John Lisle

Project Mind Control book cover

Author and scholar John Lisle

Major thanks to St. Martin’s Press and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of John Lisle’s deeply researched book about a horrible hidden history in America’s intelligence agency Project Mind Control: Sidney Gottlieb, the CIA, and the Tragedy of MKULTRA. I am fascinated by this period not only because it was classified for many years, but also because it is so shocking that the American government would allow indiscriminate human testing with drugs and other forms of psychological torture even after the Belmont Report. However, I think that Lisle recognizes how this kind of thinking and action are part of the continuous pendulum that swings back and forth across American history.  He states this argument well in one of the last chapters that provides a kind of analysis and evaluation of MKULTRA and its impact on later clandestine actions of intelligence agencies like the CIA and NSA:

“As the previous examples show, MKULTRA was not a fluke. Rather, it was the norm in a system that lacks meaningful external oversight and lets perpetrators of abuses avoid accountability for their actions, a system in which the vicious cycle of secrecy pushes the pendulum too far toward security at the expense of liberty.”

I really appreciated this insight, and I think it is something that is lacking in other books about MKULTRA and Gottlieb. I’ve read a few books about this topic, and Chaos by Tom O’Neill and Poisoner in Chief by Stephen Kinzer both explore similar grounds, yet also delved into specific areas, with Kinzer’s book providing an overview of Gottlieb’s career and various projects in the CIA. What separates Lisle’s book is the deposition transcripts that were used as much of the basis for each of the chapters. These provide some important insight into the various projects that Gottlieb was involved in, and also serve as launching points for Lisle to explore these projects and the individuals who were affected by them. At first, it was a little jarring to read through these transcripts and I wished that Lesle provided some insight into the organization of the book; however, about ¼ of the way through the book, I got used to this approach and actually appreciated how these transcripts helped to inform the other parts of the chapter. Furthermore, they also allowed Lisle to take a broader approach than Kinzer or O’Neill and examine many of the sub-projects that were included under the MKULTRA program. Readers also learn how the project initially developed in response to the belief that prisoners of war taken by North Korea and individuals in other Communist countries (especial Cardinal Mindszenty from Hungary) experienced a kind of through reform (or informally known as brainwashing). Not really aware that this kind of shift could be the result of coercive physical punishment like torture, the American government enlisted scientists and psychologists to explore the various questions related to mind control, wondering if it were possible to not only alter one’s belief system and values, but also to possibly alter their behavior. As Lisle notes in the final chapters and epilogue, this secretive collaboration between intelligence agencies, psychologists, especially behaviorists, and scientists was also what we later found out about in the war on terror and the 1980s war on Communism that brought about the Iran Contra Scandal. As Lisle notes, it’s this kind of fear of other ideologies that ends up  deferring power to intelligence, which leads to secrecy, which invites further abuse. It’s a common thread we see in the fight against Communism, the fight against terrorism, and even now with the “belief” that America is under attack by immigrants, although it seems like the abuses are much more blatant, telegraphed and promoted online to send a message. One of the other interesting conclusions that Lisle draws in regards to programs like MKULTRA is the role of that conspiracy theories play in furthering these abuses. Lisle shows how the CIA has not really addressed this scandal, and the fact that Gottlieb and others destroyed the files leads to an absence of evidence. “All claims need some empirical support to have any credibility. Yet in the twisted world of conspiracy theories, an absence of evidence is itself evidence of a cover-up. Nothing is proven, nothing can be disproven.” Lisle explains that many have gone on to use these kinds of absences to connect dots and create their own theories and beliefs for various outcomes and events. One example is school shootings and the belief that these are used as a pretext to remove guns from people. Another is the various reasons for COVID closures and how this is a scheme by the “deep state” to engage in various actions that will take away liberty. Lisle goes on to write “Like McCarthyism during the Red Scare, these sensational claims generate fear, which generates coverage, which generates converts. Ironically, the conspiracy theorists have managed to manipulate more people than MKULTRA ever did,” providing an interesting current analogy to what is happening now with all of the disinformation and “flooding the zone” to not only manipulate people, but also as a means to call to action, using fear as a primal motivator. I really appreciated this insight and analysis that Lisle provides to link up that idea about how behaviorist techniques are often employed in our current political climate. Lisle also makes a note about how the political landscape in America also further allows this kind of approach where there is limited governance and more focus on appealing to emotion- winning the minds through the hearts—and how this also contributes to the limited oversight in intelligence abuse. It’s an interesting idea and throughline that I don’t recall was in some of these other books (or documentaries like Wormwood and Chaos, based on the O’Neill book).

Lisle reviews some of the other cases that were in Kinzer’s book, notably the Frank Olson tragedy (which was the basis for the Wormwood documentary series). Lisle also explores the roles that other agents and psychiatrists played in MKULTRA’s research. In particular, there is time spent on the abuse perpetrated by George White in Operation Midnight Climax, where he used safe houses in San Francisco and New York to drug people on the fringes of society. The unwitting drugging of these people was due to the belief that they were less likely to report the abuses or even question the drugging. Lisle also shares the attempted follow up that happened after President Ford’s inquiry into CIA misdeeds, and it was sad to see how these single drugging may have induced paranoia and mental illness in some of the victims. Similarly, Lisle also highlights the abuses perpetrated by Dr. Ewen Cameron, a Canadian psychologist whose experiments in mind control were horrific. Kinzer also explored Cameron’s abuses in Poisoner in Chief, and Cameron was also the subject of CBC podcast. However, Lisle focuses more on the patients and what they endured, and also follows up on some of their lives and the consequences of Cameron’s abuse. One of his most notorious attempts to erase and reprogram individuals was through a process called “psychic driving” where patients were forced to listen to tape loops, often words or phrases they despised or were upsetting to them, while in a continued drug-induced state for weeks at a time. As Lisle notes, many times the effects were catastrophic, reducing adult subjects to infant like states where they were unable to care for themselves. In the end of the book, Lisle also follows a lawyer for some of these victims, Joseph Raugh, who sought compensation from the US and the Canadian governments for these wrongdoings. This examination of the pursuit of justice was also interesting to see, as Lisle documents the challenges that Raugh experienced in attempting to challenge the secretive agencies involved in these abuses.

I really enjoyed learning more about this topic through Lisle’s research and reporting. At first, I was a little concerned that this was going to be similar to Kinzer’s book, but Lisle approach is to go for more breadth while also taking some more depth with those projects and people who were involved in the peripheries of MKULTRA. Furthermore, I thought that the final chapters that detail the consequences of MKULTRA in fueling further conspiracies as well as other clandestine programs enacted under the guise of protecting and securing America were some of the strongest in the book. It was an apt and timely conclusion to draw as we continue to witness daily attempts at a form of mind control through disinformation (or censorship through noise), conspiracy theories, and the kind of methodologies employed by cults to manipulate and modify behavior (The BITE method-Behavior, Information, Thought, and Emotion). This section was especially important in becoming a more critical consumer of information, whether it is through the media, online, or in print. I’m glad that Lisle’s book adds some additional insight and ideas into the discussion about MKULTRA and the history of these kinds of clandestine operations in America. Furthermore, Lisle’s analysis presents important messages for the current climate of information, both real and fabricated, why it is important to be critical when consuming information. Highly recommended book!

 Set My Heart on Fire by Izumi Suzuki

Author Izumi Suzuki by Nobuyoshi Araki

Author Izumi Suzuki (from Polyester Zine)

Set My Hear On Fire book cover

Big thanks to Verso and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of Izumi Suzuki’s first translated novel Set My Heart on Fire. I was so excited to learn that some of Suzuki’s books had been translated into English a few years back, and I was able to read Terminal Boredom a few years ago, and I really loved her inventive style and metaphoric use of sci-fi to explore gender inequality and sexism in 1970s Japan. I actually learned about Suzuki through her husband’s music career as an experimental Jazz saxophonist. Kaoru Abe was a kind of wild avant garde jazz saxophonist who played occasionally with guitarist Masayuki Takayangi, who I absolutely love. Abe died of a drug overdose in the 1970s, leaving Suzuki a widow who had to care for the couple’s young child. Suzuki did modeling (especially for Nabuyoshi Araki) and wrote her science fiction stories to support herself and her daughter. Although there was not much available on either Suzuki or Abe’s life and marriage in English, this translation seems to provide some insight into Izumi Suzuki’s life and marriage. Although listed as a novel, the book chronicles a young woman’s (also named Izumi) experiences in the Japanese music scene of the 1970s. Suzuki presents Izumi as both beautiful and distant, someone who both seeks pleasure and wants to become somewhat numb and anesthetized. Izumi (the character) only seeks out musicians since she claims they have more passion than anyone else, and the book’s timeline coincides with the start of the heavy psych period of Japan’s rock music (also chronicled by Julian Cope in his excellent book JapRock Sampler).  The book is narrated by Izumi, at times alternating between her conversations with friends and lovers and her inner monologue. During one monologue, Izumi explains how she was trying to quit pills, and that she didn’t like alcohol, but she craved the kind of blank state and cool detachment that the pills bring on. As she explains “I preferred drugs because they were chemical. I wanted their world of artificial, phoney intoxication.”  Other descriptions about her interactions with others and the music scene often use music metaphors, making comparisons to guitar sounds and the use of reverb and echo pedals. “As if an echo-chamber effect pedal had been plugged into time. Like the one The Happenings Four use in their ‘Alligator Boogaloo’ cover: Boogaloo-loo-loo-loo… It leaves a trembling, trailing tail and sound comes back, bit by bit. The reverb of this night in this time within this portioned space continues endlessly.” I loved this aspect of her writing, as it was apt to the scene she was documenting, yet also novel and unique. I can see how some of these events might have been amplified or heightened to make them seem clearer, more distorted, or even somewhat repetitive, especially as the nights, the bands, and the people all seem to have nothing really to offer Izumi except a brief feeling of pleasure.

Izumi’s pursuit of pleasure with musicians eventually leads her to meeting Jun, a clear stand in for Abe. Izumi’s relationship with Jun is hard to understand, and it wasn’t clear why they even got married in the first place. Izumi just seemed to agree to the marriage after only being with Jun for a short time. As Izumi described him, Jun seems completely dependent on Izumi, even having her shave him, feed him, and take care of him while he plays gigs, seeks to find new heights on his instrument, and engages in further self-destructive behavior, including drug and physical abuse. I didn’t know much about Suzuki’s own relationship with Abe, especially since he died in the late 70s, but from doing a little research, it sounded like it was not a good relationship. While Abe is recognized as an important Jazz artist who tried to play faster and louder than everyone, it also seemed like this kind of aesthetic approach to music was also his approach to life in general. I wondered if Suzuki’s candid writing in this section of the book, detailing the physical abuse and cheating that Izumi endured, was a way of not only documenting her experiences with Abe, but also trying to reclaim her own artistry from the man. Set My Heart on Fire seems to emphasize that women took a back seat to the male musicians and artists of the day, and yet Izumi (the character) has her own thoughts, emotions, and even aesthetic, that many of the other characters, especially the male characters, recognize. Although she’s not always given opportunities to grow as an artist, it’s her unique style and dress that set her apart from others. Sadly though, Izumi’s relationship with Jun takes a physical toll on her, and she becomes increasingly thin and worn out by Jun’s destructive and baby like ways. While I’m not sure this is complete auto-fiction, Suzuki’s life has a lot of parallels with Izumi the character’s.

Jun eventually dies, leaving Izumi to care for their daughter. The last few chapters detail her life after Jun’s death, and her attempts to reconnect with Joel, a band member she slept with when they were younger. “He embodied my youth. He was the symbol of a vanished time. I couldn’t let it go. The more terrifying life became, the stronger he shone within me.” It was really interesting to see Izumi in these last chapters, trying to establish herself, but also not completely letting go of the past. Joel, like a lot of the other men in the book, is pretty shallow, and only asks Izumi to come over because of their past. “Attachment to the idea that my life could’ve been different. Meeting him again only stirred up that regret. Turns out he hadn’t rejected me at all. But something else struck me, seeing how he lives now. We shouldn’t grieve over what regret can’t change.” I really liked this line at the end. It’s not necessarily a happy ending, and I wouldn’t have expected that from this book. But it does seem like Izumi walks away from her experiences and life with some insight and ideas. The book showed how challenging it was for women in Japan to become involved in these music and arts scenes, and how they often had to take a secondary place besides the men. Yet, Izumi’s own narration, thoughts, and experiences challenge this, and present a kind of struggle or fight to establish herself. Set My Heart On Fire wasn’t as exciting and innovative as Terminal Boredom’s stories, but it provided me with some more insight about the Japanese music scene of the 1970s, and Suzuki’s own life. I also really appreciated the translation. There were the descriptions of drugs and music, but also Suzuki frequently mentioned how “thick” the nights were, and I thought this was a really great word choice. I’m not sure if the translation always relied on the same word in Japanese, but it seemed to be fitting for the scene. I hope that more of Suzuki’s books are translated to English in the ensuing years.

 

The Last Kilo: An American Tale of Success and Excess

 The Last Kilo: Willy Falcon and the Cocaine Empire that Seduced America by T.J. English

The Last Kilo book cover

Author T.J. English 

Sal and Willy, Los Muchachos

Many thanks to William Morrow Publishers and Netgalley for allowing me to read an advanced copy of prolific writer T.J. English’s new book The Last Kilo: Willy Falcon and the Cocaine Empire that Seduced America. There are several books by English that are on my to be read shelf, so I feel grateful that I was able to read this new book. Furthermore, I had some familiarity with Willy Falcon’s story from the Netflix documentary Cocaine Cowboys. However, as English lets readers know in the beginning of the book, he wrote this book with Willy Falcon’s collaboration and did not rely on the testimony of people who collaborated with the government as witnesses, in the ways that the Netflix documentary was created. This provides a unique perspective that may have some bias in the details. Nevertheless, English’s writing, detailed research, and ability to capture the scene of late 70s and 1980s Miami, specifically the Little Havana area, helps to add to the intrigue and action of Willy Falcon’s story (as well as his partner Sal Magluta and the other members of their gang, Los Muchachos). Just like other true crime and non-fiction books, English helps to contextualize the history and social scene of cocaine use in America in the 70s and 80s. He provides a quick history, and then pivots to explore how many Cubans ended up in Miami in the 60s, 70s, and 80s. I actually didn’t know about the Mariel Boatlift, a time when Cuba and America entered into an agreement to allow refugees to flee Cuba. As English explains, Castro was playing a game with the US, and released inmates and other criminals from Cuba’s prisons, sending them to the US. I wondered if this is possibly the source of some current anxieties over refugees from other Latin American countries. Although Willy and Sal arrived much earlier, their experiences fleeing Castro’s Cuba helps to shed light on the kinds of threats and violence they experienced as young children with their families. Furthermore, it makes their story of American success, using the front of several businesses to become possibly the largest cocaine smugglers in the US, more incredible. I was also amazed to learn that Los Muchachos got their start smuggling cocaine as part of the anti-Castro groups that emerged after the Bay of Pigs failures in the 1960s. That is, it sounded like Willy and Sal took on an existing role of drugs for weapons that predated the Iran-Contra affairs by at least a decade, and may have been going on for some time. In fact, I found Willy and Sal’s story of success incredible considering that neither of them graduated high school, yet they became successful business men and popular within their communities. I think their story also kind of sheds light on how some minority groups and immigrants don’t have the same kinds of advantages and opportunities that other citizens might have. Most don’t turn to illegal activities, but Willy and Sal saw this as their main opportunity to make money and continue to fight to liberate Cuba from communism. Their efforts and experiences raise some important questions about the nature of battling communism. While I don’t agree that bringing drugs into America and feeding addicts is the right way to battle dictatorships and ideologies we disagree with, I can see how their decisions to deal drugs were largely motivated by their patriotism and efforts to return Cuba to its pre-revolution days. English is persistent in showing readers that Willy and Sal regularly donated money to the cause whenever they were asked. I was actually surprised that they could still find the funds to support the liberation efforts even when they were being detained and had limited access to their funds. I also loved reading about some of the other traffickers that have shown up in other Netflix series, especially the Narcos series. I didn’t realize that Willy and Sal were that close with Escobar and some of the Sinaloa Cartel. It seemed kind of incredible to see how Los Muchachos had to navigate the relationships between different distributors of cocaine in Columbia, working with different cartels and trying to import the goods to America. It also showed how ingenious they were in subverting the DEA’s means of halting smuggling.

The Last Kilo is an exciting and fun read. Although the days of crime were action filled and entertaining, the last sections when Los Muchachos begins to fall apart was also compelling to read. English shifts from a crime story to more of a legal tale, exploring the various indictments against Willy, Sal, and many of their compatriots in Los Muchachos. It was amazing to read about the long stint that Willy and Sal spent in prison despite not being convicted of a crime. Furthermore, it was incredible to see the ways they were able to maneuver around the charges, and eventually find a plea deal to reduce their time in prison. Although English had access to Willy’s accounts, I felt like sometimes this book may have overlooked some of the crimes or the cost of addiction. Other books focusing on drug crimes often give the perspective of the victims of drugs—especially the addicts, and there’s not much about the cost of addiction in 80s. One of the pilots that Willy and Sal worked with did become addicted to a early form of crack, and Willy learns about the cost of crack, but he also seems somewhat indifferent to it, like his smuggling was not really resulting in all of the crack addiction, crime, and punishment that was a result of the failed war on drugs. If anything, Willy seems kind of oblivious to his role in furthering this dark period of American society that we are still dealing with. The book always seemed to go back to the idea of fighting for Cuba’s independence and using drugs as a means to subvert Castro’s Cuba, despite not really seeing where the money or weapons went.

I really enjoyed reading English’s book, and I look forward to reading some of his other true crime books. Although I haven’t read too many books about drug smuggling empires, I think that this one ranks with Mark Bowden’s Killing Pablo, one of my favorite and one of the more exciting books I’ve read. The one aspect of The Last Kilo that I felt could be better is the dialogue in the book. Some of the dialogue seemed a little stilted and didn’t quite have the sound that major drug smugglers might sound like—or maybe my ideas about their discussions may be more influenced by popular media like television shows and movies. Specifically, whenever Willy and Sal would talk to other dealers, it seemed like they were always kind of understanding. English also mentioned that they didn’t really engage in violence and often were forgiving of mistakes and issues. However, he does raise questions about the deaths of witnesses that occur while Willy and Sal are awaiting trial. English never directly implicates Willy and Sal, but it seems like they may have had a hand in some of these deaths. Regardless, this was a really fascinating story that covers a range of issues from crime and drugs, to immigration and American opportunities, as well as foreign policy and covert missions to combat communism. A really entertaining and compelling read. 

Narco Noir

 The Devil Takes You Home by Iglesias Gabino

The Road to Hell by Riccardo Maria Montero CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Iglesias Gabino’s The Devil Take You Home was recommended to me in several areas, and after reading the description, I was looking forward to reading it. I was surprised by the level of violence in this book, but it was also one of the aspects of the book that was appealing to me. The book tells the story of Mario, a man who falls into significant debt due to his daughter’s cancer. This illness and her death eventually leave him in debt and desperate, divorced from his wife, and not sure where to go next. His situation reminded me of the Bruce Springsteen song “Atlantic City”, where he’s got debts no honest man can pay, leading him to consider crime and desperate measures. This leads Mario to a job to hijack a money drop to a cartel with some other questionable characters. I absolutely loved this book, and it made me want to read some of Gabino’s other books. The story is propulsive, travelling along the Texas desert, leading to the border, where Mario and his team encounter many strange and unsavory characters from the criminal underworld. Gabino’s story, full of tension and anticipation, kept me reading to find out what was going to happen next. The book combines elements of crime, mystery, and horror or the supernatural, making a compelling concoction for consumption. I loved the strange and violent characters that Mario encounters, and Gabino’s descriptions of them and their fates was well done. There probably are not going to be any other Mario stories, but I would love to read some prologues about the kinds of activities he was involved in prior to this job; if that is not an option, I hope to read other Gabino books as he is a great crime and noir writer, who combines elements of the supernatural and folklore to create this kind of engaging and unique mystery. 

Exploring the Players in Narcoland

 Narcoland by Anabel Hernández

Anabel Hernández receiving the Freedom of Speech Award in 2019 by Deutsche Welle CC BY-NC 2.0 

I read Hernandez's book Narcoland shortly after taking a trip to Mexico. I wasn’t in the Narcoland area, but it was interesting to learn more about this aspect of Mexico’s history. I’m also a fan of Narcos, and reading about these cartels was interesting. I recognized some of the events and stories from the show, and if anything, Hernandez’s book emphasizes how dangerous it is to report on the cartels. The one thing I found difficult about this book, however, was keeping the characters and players straight. There were so many different individuals involved, and I found it hard to keep track of who was who at times. I didn’t find this book as engaging as some other books about the drug trade like Bowden’s Killing Pablo or Quinones’s Dreamland, which takes place more in America. Yet, it does provide important perspective on the cartels and how they have significantly impacted politics and daily life in Mexico. 

Billie Holiday: Persecuted Jazz Icon

 Lady Sings the Blues by Billie Holiday 

Billie Holiday by tonynetone CC by 2.0

Mural of Billie Holiday by Matt Green CC by NC SA 2.0

I read this book after watching The United States versus Billie Holliday. I know that there is another book (Chasing the Scream) that the movie was based on, but this was another interesting and quick read. I was not aware that this was a book until doing a little more research on Billie Holliday. I’ve also seen the Diana Ross movie, so I was somewhat familiar with Lady Day’s life. What I really enjoyed about this book was her storytelling. Her voice was so authentic, and Holliday’s co-writer did a great job capturing her language, style and tone in the stories. The stories in this book ran a range of emotions—funny, sad, sweet, heartbreaking, shocking, fascinating. I couldn’t believe the trauma and hardship that Holliday faced growing up in Baltimore. What was even more shocking was how much of a survivor she was—how tough and resilient she was. I think that whenever I listen to her sing, I can hear this kind of sadness in her voice, and reading these stories and experiences from her childhood and adolescence helped me understand that sound in her voice. In addition to Holliday’s personal experiences, the book highlights the challenges that African Americans faced in the 1930s-1950s. Holliday frequently discusses traveling throughout the south and other segregated areas as one of the first integrated bands and the hardships she especially faced in trying to do things we might take for granted—like eating in a restaurant, getting a hotel room to sleep, or even using a bathroom. It was also interesting to see how her bandmates stood up for her. Part of the book also deals with Holliday’s struggle with addiction and how the US DOJ used this as the beginnings of the war on drugs. This was another important element of the book that I did not anticipate—how Holliday experienced and described the impact of mass incarceration on African Americans. More importantly, as one of the most well-known and influential entertainers at the time, it’s important to see how the DOJ was trying to silence Holliday. What I enjoyed most about this book, though, was the music. There were so many interesting musical stories—whether about how Holliday got her start, how she developed her voice, how she wrote certain songs, or the different artists she worked with, I found this aspect of the book—where she discussed her art—to be the most interesting and engrossing aspect of the book. Lady Sings the Blues is an important book, and I hope that with Lee Daniels’ new film about Billie Holliday, the book gets the renewed interest it deserves.

Raising Questions about a Failed Education Program

 Dare to Say No: Policing and the War on Drugs in Schools by Max Felker-Kantor

1927 antidrug cartoon. Image: New York Academy of Medicine

Raymond Wambsgans from Akron Ohio, USA, CC BY-SA 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

The Provost Marshal Office’s Drug Abuse Resistance Education Lion, Daren, interacts with community members during the Joshua Tree Community

Days Summer Splash at the Joshua Tree Community Center in Joshua Tree, Calif., June 18, 2016. (Official Marine Corps photo by Lance Cpl. Levi

Schultz/Released)

Thank you to NetGalley and the University of North Carolina Press for providing a preview copy of this excellent and important book. Like many kids from the 80s and 90s, I too had experiences with the “Just Say No!” brand of drug deterrence. Along with the messages in popular school publications and on sitcoms, my school also participated in some kind of DARE program. I can’t remember if it was an actual DARE program since I don’t remember on going lessons. However, as other PA kids may remember, we were frequently visited by Trooper Ash (who showed up surprisingly in Alex Winter’s awesome Zappa documentary). However, all digressions aside, I bring this up because Max Felker-Kantor has written a book that importantly interrogates these kinds of programs in schools to ultimately conclude that their purpose was more about a PR program for police rather than any kind of drug deterrence. Much like Felker-Kantor’s conclusions about the effectiveness (or lack thereof) of DARE, I too recall learning and becoming more interested in drugs as a result of the officer’s visit. I still recall the briefcase full of paraphernalia and can easily remember the feather roach clip, proudly returning home from school to tell my mom I learned what a roach clip was. Nevertheless, Felker-Kantor’s meticulous research into the history, program evaluations, and popular perceptions of DARE help to clarify what its ultimate goal was: to humanize police, while also establishing a continued surveillance system in American schools. I honestly hadn’t thought much about that. I’ve worked in education for nearly 25 years and since Columbine, have sadly come to accept that school resource officers (SROs) have become a part of education. However, this book brings about a better understanding of how these officers have arrived and how DARE tried to tie 9/11 to a need for more police presence in schools. I found this book to be not only insightful, but also necessary for today as more and more ideologies continue to push into schools under the false pretense of protecting children. While not directly stated, Felker-Kantor’s research and analysis presents some important lessons in considering how using children and education can pressure politicians, policy makers and public support into giving up their freedoms or easily accepting increased police presence in our lives. Additionally, I appreciated this book’s analysis of how the presence of police can vary for different groups. Until recently, I didn’t realize that DARE also pressured children to snitch on their parents’ drug and alcohol use. Bettina Love’s amazing book Punished for Dreaming also shared how programs like DARE impact students of color and ultimately cause more harm than good. I highly recommend this book for educators and others working with students and schools to better understand how programs with good intentions might ultimately have harmful outcomes for students. Furthermore, it's important to read to understand how political pressure can often influence learning and pressure schools to accept a greater police presence. There were so many great ideas in this book, and it applies to all of society, not just teachers and schools.