Smashed: Story of a Drunken Girlhood

by Koren Zailckas

I don't know why I'm drawn to stories of troubled girls. I just am. Maybe it's the need to reassure myself that there's ALWAYS someone out there more f%$#ed up than I am (although this book aptly demonstrates that just because all your friends are messed up, and you're less so than they are, being comparatively less messed up does not make you more of a prize). Actually, I don't even think of myself as that f%$#ed up anymore, which I guess, is a good thing. Regardless, this book reminds me of Prozac Nation, which I liked, but disagreed with. And this one seems to frame the solution to the problem a little simply, but hey, I guess if it works for her.

The book is about being an "alcohol abuser", not an alcoholic. Specifically, what it does to a girl's emotional development (and her subsequent relationships) when she develops a habit of binge drinking. She claims that she was emotionally dependent, not physically dependent. And she uses a variety of ways to liken alcohol to a lover. It's an interesting comparison to think about. It made me sad, though, and scared me a little, 'cause I sympathized with her at several points in the book(as if by sympathizing with her, it meant that I was admitting a problem).

"That's the thing about social drinking: In the end, it's the drinking that creates the scene, not the other way around. Your grow to relish the buzz, regardless of the situation. Once you're there, really there inside that moment, with its neighborly wamth and conversation, it's hard to tell what's responsible for producing emotion. What's responsible for the light-headed feeling? Is it the Molson, or the boy who is running his fingers through the ends of your hair? Are you chatty because you're drunk, or because you're connecting with someone on a level that you have never before experienced? To an outsider, the distinction is an easy one to make. But when you're fifteen and female, when you experience these feelings first and later only when you are drinking, it becomes a question of which came first, the liquor or the Greg?"

"Elle is the ideal friend to have in moments of melodrama. She will dive into conflict with you so that you'll have company, instead of pulling you out. She will smack down her MasterCard on the bar and tell whoever is listening to "Keep 'em comin'." She happily play the decoy so you can maintain some semblance of self-respect, making the big distracting bang that prevents people from noticing while you drink until you're gone.

Elle is not the friend who puts one hand on your cheek and coos "It will be okay." Elle is the friend who stands on the bar stools and hurls bottles, the one who understands pain so completely, even when it's not directly her pain, that she doubles over and sobs. She reminds me that this is not okay, that 'This is bullshit.'"