The Night of the Gun: A Reporter Investigates the Darkest Story of his Life--His Own

"As a recovering addict, I was looking for a recovery story that was inspirational. The author's ploy of fleshing out the dimly remembered past by using journalistic techniques constructs a self-serving narrative long on war stories. I found the disclosures of what a "super bad" dealer/womanizer the author was to be appalling at first and ultimately obnoxious. I suspect the book was mercifully remaindered after a brief life on the shelves."
~ Written on 2010-01-27

"Carr -- now a respected New York Times reporter and new-media personality -- reports on his miraculous recovery from the depths of hard drug and alcohol addiction, a serious bout with cancer, poverty-level living, and custodial parenting of his twin daughters born to a drug-dealing girl friend who left town during their infancy.

His quiescent writing and reporting skills were crucial to his regaining a livelihood after he determined to take recovery seriously. They are wonderfully on display in this gripping memoir. Describing a collection of dilapidated fishing shacks his family used for summer weekends: "It was the sort of like the Kennedy compound in Hyannisport, but without the football, ocean, or yachts -- a white trash nirvana."

Describing family and friends' worries amidst his cancer battle: "There was enough avoidance in all that concern that I began to think I had a case of 'It,' instead of cancer. How is it going? Did they get all of it? What's its status. Oh, do you mean this giant cancerous tumor on my neck that is tipping my head over? 'It' seems to be doing fine. The host is a little freaked out though."

Even more intriguing than the courageous saga of how Carr surmounted his financial, addiction, and health challenges to build a new life complete with trophy wife, trophy job, and reporting trophies (as well as 3 great kids) are the musings about memory's role in self-identity. Carr had forgotten much that occurred when his troubles peaked in the late 80s and early 90s; where he did remember, his version of key events frequently differed from versions told by friends and family whom he interviewed for the book. The Rashomon-type "What is historical truth?" questions which biographers and historians routinely struggle with are even more bedeviling when the investigator's recounting of his or her own past is filtered through the screen of how they feel about their life today.

Much gratitude to David Carr for all his efforts to reconnect with so many people with whom he was then down and out to put together the near-tragic story of the life he once lived.

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~ Written on 2010-01-11

"To my mind this book should have been titled "The Night I Left My Babies in the Car Alone for Hours in the Middle of Winter in Front of A Crack House So I Could Go In and Score." That scene was the emotional core of the book as far as I'm concerned.

"I walked toward the darkened car with drugs in my pocket and a cold dread in all corners of my being," the author writes. "I could see their breath. God had looked after the twins, and by proxy me, but I realized at that moment that I had made a mistake... I made a decision at that instant never to be that man again."

Well, the author's intent was good, yet still it took quite a few rehabs to sober up. But at least his story, and that of his children, ends well. To see his byline in the New York Times these days makes you realize how easily he could have been just another obit in the same paper.

The hook of a journalist investigating his own story was what drew me in. But, truthfully, I really didn't care whose memories among this sorry, addicted lot were accurate and whose not. That one of them wielded a gun one night - the author? the author's friend? - isn't a particularly shocking event sandwiched as it is between hundreds of similarly depraved scenes.

I read this book in batches. I had to. The sordidness got to me every few chapters and I had to put it down. If I could just summon a little more of that prurient interest the bottom-feeding public is so widely credited with having, I might rate books like this higher than I do.
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~ Written on 2009-09-25

"I tried so hard to like this book. I really wanted to, given all the rave reviews and press. But, like so many other over-exposed media products, this one fell short of my expectations. I found Carr's writing style to be self-indulgent. I found myself asking "Well, why do I care?" while I was reading about his problems. He failed at connecting the reader to the story in any emotional realm. Some may like this, however, it made it impossible for me to get into the book with any sort of interest. It was just a very disjointed collection of random events during his life that he's gone through without much purpose. Possible fun for some, but not for me."
~ Written on 2009-09-17

"I am a memoir addict, which I suppose is the literary equivalent of reality TV (but I hate reality TV, I swear. But I digress). The more brutally honest, the better in my mind.

David Carr is a gripping writer with a compelling story of addiction and loss to tell. It's one of those books you can't put down. And he's an author to admire for having the courage to tell a story that doesn't spare any unflattering details. This kind of writing is urgent, rare and captivating. This book is excellent and deserves to be read."
~ Written on 2009-09-17