I gave her a half hug, we had discussed before how we both didn’t like touching, but I thought she would laugh at me if I tried to shake her hand. She kind of hugged me back, but she was holding on tight to her luggage.
“Hey, good luck out there.”
Divided into two parts — twenty-two-year-old Bobbi’s experience in a residential rehab program and what happens after her release thirty days later — Hey, Good Luck Out There is a decidedly alternative story of addiction and recovery. Perhaps based on debut author Georgia Toews’ own experiences (there are hints of this in the Acknowledgments at the end of the book), Bobbi is a character who goes to rehab after an undramatic intervention by her imperfect family, and although she can recognise that the other women in the facility need to be there, she doesn’t believe that she has personally hit rock bottom, and as a consequence, doesn’t embrace the program or the therapy; solely confronting her demons and her past in the sparkly pink journal her grandmother gave her. There’s discomfort in Bobbi’s halting dialogue and inability to connect with others, some sardonic humour in Bobbi's inner musings, and dramatic irony in the disconnect between how normal Bobbi outwardly insists her life has been and the revealed details of her party days; much of the specifics of the writing are well-crafted and compelling. On the other hand, the overall plot left me a bit cold: Despite some frequently appalling particulars, this didn’t feel “gritty” as the publisher’s blurb states — likely because these are the hinted at experiences of third parties and fuzzy memories that Bobbi brushes off; not much gritty happens in the present moment — and if this is meant to be a critique of residential rehab and twelve step programs, Toews doesn’t really dig into that either. Bobbi is simply a broken human drifting through life — accepting abuse or aid as it comes — and this driftiness gave me little to grab on to. I would give three and a half stars and am rounding up for the sentence-level writing. (Note: I read an ARC through NetGalley and passages quoted may not be in their final forms.)
I had only been in rehab for four full days and already I was beginning to forget which woman had suffered what, which woman was attacked when, who ran from the cops or whose boyfriend found her seizing in the doorway. That must be the point. Inundate you with horror stories and trauma until you realize how serious your addiction is and finally give in to the program, your only saving grace. But at this point, I didn’t feel shockable. I just felt that all that bullshit was a given.
A hardcore alcoholic, and occasional party drug user, Bobbi was talked into rehab by well-meaning (hard-drinking, mentally unstable) parents who didn’t know how else to help her. But because she’s doing the rehab more for the parents who paid out of pocket for the program than for herself, Bobbi doesn’t really do the work; just counting off sober days until her release while frequently bursting into uncontrollable tears and only confiding past trauma to her journal. Most of the first half of the book is about Bobbi’s efforts to fit in with the other women at the facility, but poor conversation skills and an unwillingness to be vulnerable leads to her being accepted, but not really embraced. I have no idea how realistic her cold turkey experience is (she can’t drink so she won’t drink, without physical or psychological effects), and when she is eventually released, it’s a stubbornness of mind and a wish to not disappoint her parents that Bobbi will rely on to keep herself sober.
The second half of the book sees Bobbi on the outside — with shockingly little support from parents who assume she will be able to find herself a job and an affordable apartment in downtown Toronto on her own — and again, I have no idea how realistic it is to portray someone with addiction issues and unresolved trauma (and no support system other than her former party friends and recent rehab roommates) who can take stressful situations as they come and just not drink because she promised her mom and dad that she wouldn’t. Once again, this part seems to be about Bobbi’s efforts to make connections with new people despite her lack of sober communication skills, and some people help her, some take advantage of her — some do both — and the tension in the plot comes from wondering if the shaky sobriety will stick.
I walked past the hostel and back, trying to make up my mind, I wanted a part of me back, the brave part. No, I wanted the child back, the one who had friends, who had a safe house and a family that didn’t hold their breath around me. I kept going through the scenarios: living, dying, drinking on this beautiful summer evening.
Of course I was rooting for Bobbi — she really is a damaged character who deserves stability and hope for the future — but it felt like, ultimately, the events of the plot (the good things that landed in Bobbi’s lap, the things that were taken away) were more random than literary (like there wasn’t a point to the up and down struggles beyond, “It could happen this way”) and that was a bit frustrating for me, a bit wispy. Still, overall, a very good read.
