Quitter

Once, I almost got caught in the act. I was sitting in my usual spot near the back of the bus, gulping from a bright-yellow carton of lukewarm Bandit Chardonnay, when a guy across the aisle caught my eye to let me know the driver was coming my way. "Hey, lady, you gotta watch yourself!" he grinned after the danger had passed, pulling a brown-bagged tallboy from his puffy black jacket. "They're checking for that shit now!"



Speak for yourself, I thought. I'm invisible. And compared to him, as a still vaguely professional-looking woman in my thirties with a MacBook in her lap, I was.



At the airport, I shoved the bottle, now several fluid ounces lighter, back in my suitcase, rolling it carefully in a sweater to make sure it didn't clank around.



I wandered back into the terminal, thinking, I can handle this.



And then, suddenly, I couldn't. That's how I found myself glued to this chair by the United ticket counter, watching the blur of travelers rushing past me to their Very Important Destinations. Things felt unreal. I started to wonder if I was hallucinating, or actually imperceptible. Or maybe I was still stuck in a dream from the night before-the one where security officers had to carry me, flailing and screaming, from the building after I was fired. I should get a taxi home, I thought. Instead, I flagged down two TSA agents and asked them to call me an ambulance.



"What's wrong with you?" one asked. "Acute intoxication," I responded, surprised at my own lucidity. Even when I couldn't force my body to stand, I still wanted people to know that I knew what I was talking about.



The aborted flight was an attempt to trace a familiar path-back home to Meridian, Mississippi, the small town where my family lived until I was seven. I had just been fired from my job at the online news site I cofounded with my best friend, Josh, and I thought that if I could retrace my steps-dry out for a few weeks in a place where I had always been welcomed without judgment, then figure out how to re

(she goes to an interview drunk, and shoplifts wine) of how her ever-worsening problem caused her to lose her health, her job, and many of her friends, and alienate her family. . . . Emotionally devastating and self-aware, this cautionary tale about substance abuse is a worthy heir to Cat Marnell s How to Murder Your Life."
Publishers Weekly (starred review)

"A Seattle-based political reporter recounts her tumultuous, nearly deadly dance with the bottle. . . . Barnett rises to the challenge with a witty, self-deprecating, sometimes snide voice. . . . If you re in the mood for a well-written, relatable, rock-bottom recovery memoir, this will hit the spot.
Kirkus Reviews

I can t think of another memoir that captures the nightmare of drinking relapse like this one. Erica Barnett s tale is brutal, maddening, and beautiful. Quitter will give hope to anyone afraid they can't ever get this thing. Hang in there. You just might.
Sarah Hepola, New York Times bestselling author of Blackout

[Barnett] paints a grotesque portrait of the horror show that is alcoholism with great skill and style. I tore through this book.
Cat Marnell, New York Times bestselling author of How to Murder Your Life

Quitter is all these things: a beautifully told story of one woman's descent into darkness; a rigorously researched exploration of the causes and treatments of alcohol abuse; a furious howl of pain. Erica C. Barnett has written a female story of addiction that moves beyond clichés and accepted truths. I loved this book, in all its raging glory.
Claire Dederer, author of Love and Trouble

Barnett writes with seismic clarity on the baffling nature of the early morning vodka trip and the anguish and relief it produces in equal measure. This book understands what it is like to fail but have that last bit of hope. Remarkable writing on a disease that effects so many. Quitter is the new manual for those seeking a recovered life.
Erin Lee Carr, author of All That You Leave Behind; director of I Love You, Now Die and At the Heart of Gold

Erica Barnett s Quitter is a harrowing, deeply truthful account of her long journey through alcoholism and repeated relapse an addiction consequence so common that Barnett calls it almost inevitable, yet one to which most treatment methodologies pay scant attention. Barnett doesn t flinch in showing the impact of her ever-worsening relapses on her health, career, and even her most steadfast relationships, and she holds herself to account while also making it clear how the treatment system failed her. In addition to being a riveting, suspenseful read, Quitter will also start important conversations about how addicts can best be helped at all stages of the recovery cycle. An essential addition to literature of addiction.
Kristi Coulter, author of Nothing Good Can Come From This

Erica Barnett s Quitter is an impeccably researched, long-overdue examination of America s billion-dollar addiction industry and its decidedly mixed record of success. Drawing from her own painful experience in countless hospitals, rehabs and treatment centers, Barnett bravely tackles the limitations and sacred cows of the 12-step-movement while also acknowledging the vital role it has played in rescuing thousands of addicts and alcoholics from desperate cycles of despair. In her hard-won quest for sobriety she discovers that it s possible for even the most hopeless addicts to recover if they are willing to give up pre-conceived notions about what recovery looks like and how to get there.
Maer Roshan, author of Courtney Comes Clean