In Praise of Elizabeth Wurtzel

I was taking a break from reading East Lynne for my Victorian Lit class (because it's so Victorian that you need boots to wade through all the snobbery), so I decided to re-read More, Now, Again: A Memoir of Addiction by Elizabeth Wurtzel, because I've re-read her first book, Prozac Nation, more times than I can count, but I've only re-read More, Now, Again maybe twice.

As I was reading it, I was reminded of why I love Elizabeth Wurtzel: she's witty, intelligent, and more importantly, she knows what she's talking about. The book was published in 2002, and so I began to wonder what my favorite non-fiction writer has been up to in the five years since her last book, so I began to search for information about her online. What I came across really blew me away. Apparently, she's somewhat of a pariah. People hate her. Just about every review I found for More, Now, Again was scathing; comments about her were mostly negative and malicious. I was surprised. I love her, but apparently, I am in the minority.

I don't know if it's the tactless, out-of-context comments she gave to a Canadian reporter regarding the events of 9/11, or if people just don't "get" her writing. All I know is that she needs someone to give her a good review, because she definitely deserves it. Regardless of how she is portrayed, her books are excellent. They have helped me through my own battles with depression and addiction more than anything else ever has. And isn't that what really matters? I will take on Elizabeth's naysayers, because, well, somebody has to.