For a limited time, receive paperback copies of all books currently in our Drug Chronicles series (The Nicotine Chronicles, The Marijuana Chronicles, The Heroin Chronicles, The Speed Chronicles, and The Cocaine Chronicles) for $40, plus shipping!
The latest entry in the Akashic Drug Chronicles Series. Heroin has long been understood as the most “literary” of narcotics, and this collection will, for better and worse, have tremendous pop cultural appeal.
Joyce Carol Oates, Lee Child, Linda Yablonsky, and others take short fiction to a higher level (though they don’t inhale).
Following the international success of the Noir Series, this volume marks the launch of a new drug-based sister series.
The best fiction anthology of cocaine-themed tales to blow through in years, featuring all-new stories from Susan Straight, Lee Child, Jerry Stahl, Ken Bruen, Laura Lippman, Bill Moody, Nina Revoyr, and many more.
The gateway drug is not the weed you smoke in a too-thin joint as a teenager. It’s not the beer you surreptitiously sip from your father’s fishing cooler while hunkered down in the garage. The gateway drug is escape . . .
I always told myself that I’d never use anything stronger than pot. I was a middle class kid away from home, NYU, my second year of art school, and hard drugs scared the shit out of me. But pot, I loved it. I smoked in the morning, afternoon and night. I’d go to school stoned, paint stoned, fuck stoned. It was 1970 and I was living on Avenue C. It looked like the set for an end of the world movie: deserted tenements, bums, hustlers, junkies and pushers on every corner . . .
Which reminds you of the first time you ever dropped acid.
Hardly anyone then had ever heard of LSD. But rumors dawned of a great new drug which let you see God, or someone similar. Apocryphal stories drifted like alien blimps through misty skies. How LSD had been discovered by an atheist Swiss chemist who got some on his hands and became a holy man. How Aldous Huxley had taken tons of it and left his dying body behind, rising like a comet into heaven . . .
