This book didn’t have to be well-written to be riveting, but it is, nonetheless: Few have written so well about the joy of drugs, and few are as unsparing about their drug-driven selfishness. While his parents’ failings are chillingly self-evident, the author isn’t vindictive; he saves his harshest criticism for himself. By the end, the reader is cheering for Lawford’s recovery. It would have been so easy for him to end up like his cousin David. The miracle is that he didn’t.