Guided tour of drug hell

Oran Canfield

Freefall, Oran Canfield, Ebury/Random House, $37.99

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ORAN CANFIELD, the son of an American self-help guru, a self-confessed crackhead junkie and alcoholic, has written what appears to be a handbook on bad parenting.

It is an astonishing real-life tale of a freefall descent into drug-fuelled despair and self-loathing, a guided journey through the seventh circle of hell on earth. It stands as a remarkable warning against the horrifying mental, physical, financial and social effects of addiction.

Born into relative wealth and the son of creative, educated and articulate parents, Oran's misfortunes start virtually on day one of life. His father, a "lying, cheating, conniving, manipulative, inhuman son of a bitch", dumps the family early on, to remain a conspicuous absence in Oran's growth. His mother, after time in "a community of weird therapists, early self-help freaks" and drug-experimenting hippies, takes her two sons to Guatemala. She conducts a one-woman crusade against international corporations. The two sons are frequently farmed out to others for food, shelter and care. The warning signs start to appear at an early age – confusion, distrust, social inadequacy. But still his mother continues her obsession with every passing fad, vehemently arguing her case. Oran's early life seems like a geological section through late sixties and seventies fads, all adding to the young artist's bewilderment. Tofu, macrobiotics, Gestalt theory, juggling; all feature at some stage of his childhood.

Returning to the US, the family's chaotic life continues. The boys are shuttled between grandparents, friends of varying levels of reliability and complete strangers. They live in a caravan on a dirt lot in New Mexico with negligent strangers, suffer briefly the cruelties of born-again Christian schooling, then are whisked off to yet another set of surrogate parents.

What little schooling Oran receives is haphazard, often optional and, unsurprisingly, Oran makes little formal progress, learning only a wide vocabulary of obscenities and an interest in pornography. He rebels against authority in any form, viewing teachers, policemen, doctors and counsellors as enemies.

As Oran grows, he begins to see the sharp irony of his situation: "I felt lucky that with two parents who fixed other people's problems, I would never have any problem of my own." How wrong he could be. As he moves into teenage years, so he begins his involvement with drugs. First it is pot then he progresses on to heroin, then cocaine, then both, then crack. Despite winning a place at art school, his life starts to seriously unravel.

What is remarkable about this autobiography is not its style – the frequency of profanities is not for the squeamish – or its structure – its twin timeframes are often confusing and frustrating. The language is unremarkable. It is Canfield's insights into this dark and intensely private lifestyle that set this book apart. Like other journeys into seamy underbellies, such as George Orwell's into a down-and-out lifestyle or William Styron's into clinical depression, this book shines a very clear light on to the psychology of addiction and its practices. It also highlights the extraordinary efforts of others, to help Oran and other addicts return to "normal". As he learns, "the only way out is through". It is a tough but exact lesson.

Steve Walker is head of English at King's College, Auckland.

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