Light up the night America's overdose crisis and the drug users fighting for survival

Journalist Lupick (Fighting for Space) focuses this candid and vital look at the harm reduction method of addiction treatment on two drug users turned activists. Jess Tilley, a native of Northampton, Mass., started snorting and shooting heroin to cope with the trauma of sexual abuse, and discovered harm reduction while seeking treatment for an abscess in her arm. Louise Vincent's bipolar disorder sent her on a downward spiral with drugs, but she now runs a needle exchange program in Greensboro, N.C. Lupick follows both women as they put the theory of harm reduction--"that you could improve health outcomes for people who use drugs without entirely ending their drug use"--into practice by organizing a march to commemorate "victims of the overdose crisis," developing a recovery program that doesn't require abstinence, and campaigning against efforts to prosecute people who unwittingly sell or procure drugs that cause someone's death. Lupick also delves into racial disparities in drug sentences, the arrival of fentanyl in the U.S. in the 2010s, and how social stigma hinders drug users' efforts to get help. But the book's greatest strength is the intimate portrait of two indomitable women who have dedicated their lives to helping others. This is a must-read for those on the front lines of the opioid crisis. (Jan.)

A report spotlighting two former drug addicts who now advocate for opioid abuse treatment and prevention. As he did in his vigorous debut, Fighting for Space: How a Group of Drug Users Transformed One City's Struggle With Addiction, Lupick effectively destigmatizes the opioid epidemic by focusing on effective activism. In Massachusetts, Jess Tilley travels to local drug hot spots to distribute harm reduction supplies as an alternative form of addiction treatment. Her own story involves childhood sexual abuse and the immense emotional pain she could only numb with hard drugs. In North Carolina, Louise Vincent's parents used "punitive" love when she began acting out in her early teens, battling bipolar depression and longing for connection. Cocaine became her downfall, but a trip to the hospital for chronic abscesses opened her eyes to a needle exchange initiative. Now sober, both women distribute clean syringe supplies and travel with numerous doses of "the overdose-reversal drug naloxone." Lupick further humanizes both activists by noting that, as former addicts, Tilley and Vincent understand the allure of drugs and the dark solidarity shared among communities of addicts. Louise: "When you do illegal things with people, when you are all in pain together, when you are all in a struggle together, you're bonded in a way." The women's tireless efforts not only save lives; they also recognize the dignity of a population that is ritually stigmatized or ignored. Tilley and Vincent spearhead efforts in their communities and beyond to foster alternative cessation programs and advocate for more robust "drug-induced-homicide laws." Lupick explores pharmaceutical industry culpability, recovery program retention, the horrors of withdrawal, rampant racism in the justice system, and the scourge of the synthetic opioid fentanyl. The author's riveting profile of two "heroes walking among us" serves as a hopeful perspective on an enduringly grave predicament that is only getting worse. Potent, illuminating reportage on a public health crisis of epidemic proportions. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.