THE ALCOHOLIC isn’t the first time that author Jonathan
Ames has cast himself as the lead in one of his stories. It’s
a regular motif of his novels and essays, which have always bent
the truth and gleamed the surface of truth in wildly inventive
ways. This is simply Ames’s latest reimagining of himself,
and it’s a taut, rambling, compulsively readable journey into
the mind not only of an addict but of a pain-filled young man still
searching for resolution.

Make no mistake, THE ALCOHOLIC is most definitely a novel, even
though it reads like a tell-all memoir. Then again, who’s to
say how truthful Ames is being within its pages? Did he have these
misadventures or just invent them? Ultimately, it doesn’t
matter. This isn’t just a personal journey of self-discovery
for the author; it’s a chance for the reader to relate to a
complex, utterly confusing yet lovable human being with no shortage
of troubles.

The fictional Jonathan, who narrates, relates his life story,
from his teenage years with his best friend, Sal, with whom he had
his first drink, up through his 40s, in which he is trying to make
sense of it all. At 15, Jonathan and Sal have their first sexual
experience with each other, setting up a paradigm for
Jonathan’s life: He’s straight, but he can never quite
get to what he wants, never gets the satisfaction he desires and
never understands why it eludes his grasp. The sexual frankness of
THE ALCOHOLIC is one of the reasons the book is so rich; it’s
sometimes shocking but always appropriate. Even when Jonathan is
losing yet another job by having an ill-considered tryst with
several college coeds, it never crosses the line into prurient
territory --- which is not to say that it doesn’t have its
graphic moments.

Jonathan faces a horrible array of tragedies and upsets in his
life, but perhaps it’s the emotional abandonment he feels
after his sexual liaisons that drives him primarily in his life. He
is constantly in search of love and acceptance and rarely finds it
(the delightful character of his great-aunt is a wonderful
exception; she’s a fantastically well-rounded and developed
supporting character in a novel that could easily have skipped over
her in the hands of a lesser writer).

THE ALCOHOLIC falters only when the events of 9/11 unfold,
lingering just slightly too long in a tragedy that doesn’t
directly affect the protagonist and doesn’t do enough to
advance his story. As Jonathan witnesses the raw pain of his fellow
citizens, people who are dealing with terrible loss, it threatens
to overwhelm the small story of one man dealing with his own
personal demons. Nevertheless, it’s a very slight stumble in
a work that encompasses so many years’ worth of pain that
it’s hard to believe it’s actually laugh-out-loud funny
at points. Ames knows full well the territory he’s mining
here, and he does it with such superb genuineness that it
effortlessly delivers the reader onto the streets of his
protagonist’s life, giving a you-are-there immediacy to the
entire work. It would be a crime not to note that its bracing
realism is due in large part to the stellar work of artist Dean
Haspiel (The Escapist, Billy Dogma). In his
hands, the story truly comes to life.

THE ALCOHOLIC is a major accomplishment in every way, a
singularly touching book that lingers and resonates.