Review of Kristi Coulter's 'Nothing Good Can Come From This'
Writer, Kristi Coulter opens up about her alcohol addiction in a delightful series of essays.
Kristi Coulter quit drinking.
When she did, she started noticing things: Societal norms around female alcohol consumption, how events, holidays, and certain days of the week are relegated to alcohol, and most importantly, she noticed she was "no longer numb to complacency."
Coulter's collection of essays, on sale August 7th, is eye-opening, be it to yourself or those around you. As a woman reading Nothing Good Can Come From This, it's hard not to reflect on your personal drinking habits. Memoirs about alcoholism can be blunt, honest, and uncomfortable, but Coulter avoids demanding your sympathy. Her stories aren't lectures riddled with statistics and scientific studies on alcohol and the body. She never makes you feel bad about your choices, she simply reflects on hers. It is up to you to find a connection to your life and your habits.
Awkward run-in at Trader Joe's. I probably drank a *hundred* bottles of this wine back in the day, but I hadn't thought about it in years, so it felt like bumping into a vaguely remembered ex. I almost felt like I should *say* something: "How *are* you? You're looking well. Trick knee still acting up? Bet the kids have gotten so big!" (I did not. I backed away silently and with only a slight chill down my spine.) #sobriety #soberlife #recovery #alcohol #rose #oldlovers
She is candid about her life, the trials and tribulations that led her to drink, and the support system (and sometimes, lack thereof) that she has made for herself. Her husband quit drinking, but she lost friends; two new realities in the life she has to deal with. Coulter lays out her past drinking habits, Margarita Mondays and Tequila Tuesdays (the norm in our society), and why we're encouraged to drink.
I'm excited about the recent surge in popularity of essays collections. They're skillful in that they have to accomplish more in fewer pages. They hook you quickly and leave you so delighted you're eager for more. And Coulter does just that.
There might be pain and obstacles to overcome but, in her writing, she does both with ease and grace. And she's funny. Don't think for a second that the topic of alcoholism would bore you; no, she is delightful in her honesty, candor, and self-deprecation. The reader will take away many things, but self-reflection in an unpretentious way might be the greatest gift Coulter will give to you. And if you can't relate to addiction, you don't have to.
Readers will connect with the self-love, self-confidence, and how we all can improve ourselves. Coulter writes about hiding herself for the acceptance of others:
"So I skirt the edges, camouflaging myself with baby turnips and bleak movies so no one can spot me and kick me back out of the club I'm not sure I wanted to join in the first place."
But she doesn't care, she lives for herself now and that is something we can all walk away with, "that's where you can find me, if you want. And if you don't want, that's fine, too. I don't really want to hang out with you anyway."