Beer, Booze and Books... a sober look at higher education

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Not so much at university. Then I moved to London, to work as a freelance journalist, and started drinking more heavily. Three years later, when I moved out of London, I drank much less; six years after that, when I moved back again, I drank a lot more. My entire social network was being taken over by pubs, and bars, and people who liked to drink in pubs and bars, and people who liked to drink at home. Drink had woven itself into the fabric of my life. That was when I started trying to quit.

Talking to Drummond made me think about the pattern. There were three bouts of heavy drinking, each more serious than the last. In the first two bouts, in my teens and then in my mids, I responded to stress — the stress of school, the stress of work — by drinking alcohol. In the third bout, when my drinking escalated dramatically, it was as if the alcohol itself had become a stressor. Some people drink, and then they drink more, and at a certain point, they become obsessed with drink.

I always used to notice bottles, the shapes of bottles, the labels and coloured glass. Just looking at the bottles would make me feel a rush of desire. I would know which pubs stocked the strongest beers and ciders, just in case. I loved walking around off-licences, and picking up bottles, and holding them.

For a year, I took a wine course, because wine seemed civilised. I sat in a classroom, one evening a week, talking about wine, and drinking wine, and taking notes. There were always bottles in my life, bottles everywhere, more bottles than I could believe. All this time I was in a relationship, and we both drank. I drank more than she did. When friends visited, I would open the wine in the kitchen, and pour one bottle into four glasses.

But drinking always increased my desire to drink, so I would finish my second glass before the others had finished their first. By the time everybody had had three drinks, four bottles would be gone. There was a solution, of course — to buy five bottles. With drink, there always seems to be a solution. Drummond asked me about my family. Was there alcoholism in my family? I thought about my family. My brother drinks robustly.

My mother hardly drinks. A glass of wine here and there. Maybe two at a wedding. My father drank very little until late middle-age. Then he drank in small amounts.

When he retired, he drank more. In his 40s, a very light drinker, he used to warn me about my drinking. By the time I quit, he was in his 80s, and drank every day. I never saw him drunk; he claimed never to have been drunk. But I worried about the brandy, the rum, the gin. Our roles had reversed; now I would warn him about alcohol. When you drink, it can be impossible to think clearly about your drinking. Alcohol was the drug of choice for both my year-old self and my year-old father: Drummond listed some of the reasons why alcohol is so attractive: H ow does alcohol do all the things it does?

See a Problem?

How did ethanol, when ingested, give me those perfect moments of escape? And why did my search for those perfect moments turn into a pernicious obsession? Lewis has written, brilliantly, about his own experiences with alcohol, opiates and several other drugs in his book Memoirs of an Addicted Brain. When the golden lager or shimmering vodka slipped down my throat and entered my brain, Lewis explained, it changed my mood by tampering with several neurotransmitters — the chemicals that enable neurons, or brain cells, to communicate with each other.

When you have a thought, or an idea, or a feeling, it is because neurons in your brain are joining up and forming pathways, facilitated by neurotransmitters. Two of the most important ones are glutamate and gamma-aminobutyric acid, or Gaba. Glutamate promotes brain activity; Gaba inhibits it.

Booze acts as a red light for glutamate and a green light for Gaba. Think about that for a moment. Gaba hinders communication and glutamate helps it. Booze helps the hinderer and hinders the helper. In Memoirs of an Addicted Brain, Lewis describes what happened when he got drunk for the first time: Alcohol, then, stops you thinking too much. It slows down the hamster wheel of anxiety. When you drink, another neurotransmitter, dopamine, is sent all over the brain.

Dopamine is the neurotransmitter of anticipation, of excitement, of wanting more. Dopamine floods your brain with a sort of excited hunger, the sensation of being in thrall to something. The American writer Elizabeth Wurtzel wrote a book about her addictions called More, Now, Again ; this raw desire is a good description of how a surge of dopamine makes you feel. The sweet spot — the exact moment when anticipation and reward are in perfect balance. I began to notice something about the perfect balance. It seemed to be getting more elusive.

The amount of euphoria and excitement a drink could provide, measured in intensity and time, seemed to be diminishing. When you trick it, it gets wise. When you flood it with chemicals to make it feel rewarded, it will find ways to feel that reward a bit less intensely. So you need to drink a bit more to get the same buzz. And then more, and yet more. In the short term, Lewis explained, desire increases as the reward gets closer.

Desire grows as fulfillment shrinks; anticipation nags as reward becomes less rewarding. Something happens to the prefrontal cortex, the centre of decision-making in the brain. Imagine every thought you might have as a narrow pathway. Now imagine an obsessive, dopamine-fuelled thought happening over and over. It becomes a trunk road, and eventually a motorway. There are no other routes. You find yourself in a difficult situation. You want to drink, but drinking is making you ill. You feel ill, but you want a drink. You are full of wanting. I n her memoir Drinking: A Love Story, the late American writer Caroline Knapp said that there was a fine line between problem drinking and full-on alcoholism, but that, as a drinker, you never see it.

They are lying to me, they are lying to themselves. These conversations make me angry, largely with my former self. I sometimes wonder when I started lying to myself.

High Sobriety: my year without booze by Jill Stark

At school I was full of bravado: In my 20s the bravado still existed; drinking carried a certain status. The lying, the deception, must have started in my 30s. Buying five bottles of wine instead of four. Stashing bottles around the house.

Tales of the city

You cross the line when you start lying to yourself. But you never know where the line is. Colin Drummond said that some people go out after work with colleagues and have a single drink, then go home and spend the rest of the evening drinking on their own. I had done a similar thing, but at one step removed. I remember emerging from an after-hours bar, walking up the basement steps to pavement level, and seeing that it was already light. Not only light, but sunny.

That was a dark moment.

It kept happening, that moment. I carried on, knowing I needed to do something. But drinking had me stuck in a rut.

The decision-making zone of my brain had become excellent at making a single type of decision: I walked along the street, trying to duck into the shadows. I hailed a taxi, went home, fell asleep. At a certain point, the sweet spot begins to disappear. You search for it. You search for it by drinking more. The hangovers get worse. You spend at least half of each day fighting a hangover. You lie in bed until the last possible moment. You have sharp pains behind your eyes. You feel paranoid and anxious. Your sweat reeks of booze.

You like yourself less and less. It works, a bit. Then a bit less. And then, 15 years ago, came the beginning of the end. Every problem drinker who decides to quit drinking has a story like this. I had a feeling of not drinking enough, of wanting more, and I came home and went into the kitchen. There was a half-full bottle of vodka in the freezer. I poured some vodka into a glass, and topped up the glass with orange juice, and drank it.

Then I poured the rest of the vodka into the glass, added orange juice, and drank that, and the vodka was gone. I was filled with a powerful urge to drink: All I had to do was go to the shop across the road. What astounded me was I was being judged for not drinking I also don't think being Aboriginal helped I became the "blackfella" that doesn't drink. The fact is that on my father's side of the family alcoholism has been rife for generations The point is in Multicultural Australia, we do have a huge drinking problem as a nation but also many other countries do.

We need to remember that although alcohol is legal it does not mean that it it's necessarily safe. Some of the biggest traumas that have happened in my life have been alcohol related such as two of my closest friends both aged 22 dying from a drunk driver running a red light. Another example my sister aged 14 at the time was hit by a drink driver as she crossed the pedestrian crossing on the way home from school. Her pelvis was broken in 4 places, she also had a fractured femur and tibia.

I could continue with other incidents but I think you get the picture. As a mother of teenage boys it does concern me as I am sure it does other parents. Australia's culture desperately needs to change it's attitudes towards alcohol. I believe that we as parent's need to set the example and to teach our kids to respect alcohol. Next time you put that glass of alcohol to your lips, just for a moment think about who you are influencing, if it's possible you may need to drive later, are you making someone feel uncomfortable because that person no longer drinks?

Does it make YOU feel more comfortable about your drinking, if you have someone else drinking with you? These are some of the questions AND answers that came to me whilst reading this book. Thank you Jill Stark for the reality check not just for me but also for Australia. View all 36 comments. Jan 30, Suzanne rated it really liked it Shelves: Where to start with this sobering read. Absolutely no pun intended.

Jill Stark is telling the world her story of not drinking alcohol for more than twelve months. She was a party girl who happened to be a health reporter for the Melbourne Age Newspaper. And so it went on for a long time. This was serious and full of some excellent research, this is was not meant to be an entertaining read. I thought it was a ta Where to start with this sobering read. I thought it was a tad long, but her self depreciating stories of life growing up in Scotland were heartfelt and honest. I really like this woman, not just the author.

How I let drinking take over my life

So many facts were discussed. This teaches the drinker and non-drinker a lot. I am not a wowser by any standard. Australians of course not all are drinking too much, no matter what grey area you read into. Life did not stop. But it certainly did change. View all 15 comments. Note added New Year's Eve, December , I thought of this book today and remembered how good it was. I decided to share my old review in case anyone feels inspired to attempt "high sobriety" or maybe do a quick FebFast 29 days this year!

Whatever, it's worth a read. Dry July for the heck of it, I mean. I had heard good things about "High Sobriety", so I figured it was a good time to read it. Great timing, as I think I would have found it confronting to be drinking while reading it. Jill Stark came from a hard-drinking Scottish background, so it was easy for her to fit into hard-drinking Australia. But eventually, one hangover pulled her up long enough that she actually took notice of what she'd been writing about as a health reporter for a major newspaper for some years.

She doesn't cut herself any slack or offer any excuses for writing about health during the week and getting wasted on the weekends. It's just considered normal behaviour here. Must get together for a drink. Let me get you a drink. Man, does anyone remember Saturday night at all? Her original intention of giving up for a month like my Dry July stretched on to a year and involved facing her friends and their parties and occasions with only ginger beer my personal choice, also to fortify herself with.

Meeting new blokes was a whole new challenge.

While a few friends made her feel uncomfortable about her self-imposed drought, she persisted with her experiment and did more research and interviews, all of which I found compelling, although I have never been a drunk-drinker or moved in those circles. I reckon every drinker should. Apr 26, Lizz Sayers rated it really liked it. I'd love to know how Jill is doing now - has she managed to drink in moderation?

For myself, I decided to give up drinking 15 months ago and apart from a six week stint of trying to drink in moderation and failing, I've not touched a drop. Although it's hard sometimes, the health benefits both physical and mental , totally outweigh the fleeting enjoyment that comes with drinking booze.

Feb 12, Emma rated it it was amazing. A great book to read if you are querying your relationship with alcohol. May 13, Belinda rated it really liked it. As someone for whom binge-drinking has been a regular part of socialising — not as in I binge-drink a lot, but regular heavy weekend drinking has definitely been acceptable and encouraged in many of the groups I have spent time with — it certainly resonated with me. Following on from the success of that article, this book details the year-long break from alcohol taken by the life-of-the-party Jill Stark. Her personal experiences are interspersed with really confronting and disturbing data about the damage that alcohol abuse can have on a personal, social and cultural level.

As a Scotswoman living in Australia, Stark comes from two cultures where drinking is seen as an integral part of belonging. The recent increase in alcohol sale and abuse has not been matched by an increase in funding for treatment and recovery and, according to the picture painted by the experts Stark interviews, the problem is only going to get worse as baby boomers take their problem drinking habits with them into retirement homes.

There were two things I found incredibly disturbing in this book. Firstly, I was shocked at the long-term ramifications of heavy drinking physically — for women, a considerable increase in the risk of breast cancer and for both sexes, an all-over increase in cancer risk — as well the considerable psychological damage that can be done to memory and behaviour. Secondly, I was not aware of the role of industry and government in the ever-increasing ubiquity of alcohol. Over the last ten years there has been a massive increase in the number of places that sell alcohol and the hours in which alcohol is available for purchase.

Advertising within the industry is self-regulated, which in practical terms means very little regulation at all. Alcohol is a huge part of sporting events and, disturbingly, a vital part of sports funding. I really enjoyed reading this book. Jill Stark has a frank, interesting writing style and she seems like ironically she would be a great person to go and have a drink with. Having completed both Dry July and FebFast, a lot of what she found was true to my experience — the fear of going without alcohol tends to be a lot worse than the reality. We are still us without a drink.

Yet just as nature abhors a vacuum, Australians are terrified by a non-drinker and dealing with talking about not-drinking is definitely more painful than the not-drinking is. The people I know who say they drink too much drink too much at home, not out and about. I give it four stars. View all 4 comments. May 20, Trish rated it liked it. I read this based on the thumbs-up it received from all panelists on a recent episode of The Bookclub - and that 3 out of the 5 panelists had not had a drink since finishing the book. I was curious to see what it said that could have such a life changing effect.

Unfortunately High Sobriety had the opposite effect on me. By the end of the book - having read pages and pages of examples of the author's fun times with alcohol - she had totally sold me: I just wanted a drink. I think it was a descri I read this based on the thumbs-up it received from all panelists on a recent episode of The Bookclub - and that 3 out of the 5 panelists had not had a drink since finishing the book.

I think it was a description of beer on a hot day that did it. On the plus side I do admire the author for sticking out the 12 months when it seemed like every social encounter was engineered to get her glugging again. But this focus of the book our social culture of drinking just didn't ring true for me personally.

Of the many social events I've attended and not drunk , I've felt no pressure from others to drink. Also, the stats and stories bits rather than the personal reflection just didn't work for me - I was continually asking "Where's the evidence? What do we really know? Could I go 12 months without alcohol? Aug 05, Sarah rated it liked it. I have been recommending this book to people who say they don't normally read non-fiction, as the writing style is so engaging. Stark finds a perfect balance between personal memoir and expose of our culture of drinking, and moves from one to the other seamlessly.

At times it feels like a series of magazine articles, which is no bad thing. I think it would have had a stronger impact on me, though, if I was a regular drinker and one of the many Sunday-morning-hangover victims she describes. The ru I have been recommending this book to people who say they don't normally read non-fiction, as the writing style is so engaging. The ruthless exposure of how reliant we all are on alcohol to fuel every social event doesn't seem as shocking or relevant if you happen to have a perfectly good social life sans drink. Maybe when she writes 'My Year without Coffee' I will be forced to examine my own addictions.

It is also fairly repetitive in its message - every chapter reveals how yet another aspect of Australian or Scottish life is dominated by drinking. I got the message early on - yes, we have a drink problem in our society. Despite this it remains eminently readable and refreshing in its frankness. View all 7 comments. Jun 11, Rebecca Moore rated it it was amazing. What a fantastic book!

I am ashamed to say that I bought this book a long time ago and have been afraid to read it. I was so far in denial about a slightly unhealthy relationship with booze that I did not want to read anything that would make me feel bad. After a particularly groggy long weekend I decided it was time to read it. Being set in Melbourne it was so immediate to my experience and it was really easy to read as Jill has a lovely writing style.

I enjoyed the thorough research and effort What a fantastic book! I enjoyed the thorough research and effort to cover a large range of relevant topics; advertising, sports culture, being 'aussie', being 'scottish' etc. I have signed up for Hello Sunday Morning and I'm looking forward to it! Nov 06, Tara rated it it was amazing.

However it came with a warning- 3 of 4 panelists had decided to stop drinking for a period after reading it. The concept fascinated me- we seem to define ourselves as Australians by our strong drinking culture. How challenging is it to be the non-drinker at standard social occasions? I've had conscious periods of alcohol abstinence throughout my adult life. These have been driven by two things. The first has been a growing intolerance to many beverages- there's no pleasure having a drink of merely a glass or two if hours later you're feeling terrible or violently ill.

The second reason has been an awareness that I was looking forward to that after-work wine far too much. Or when I was dreading something, a beverage was a fall back. This book sat waiting for me through two library renewal periods. I wanted to read it, but wasn't ready to face some reality about my attitude towards drinking.

After a ridiculous evening hungover, some very regrettable drunk texting, and the library due date looming, I opened the book And couldn't put it down. While my own drinking habits didn't mirror the author's, her sheer honesty was inspiring. Some of the data presented was distracting during the personal stories, but a few facts shocked me and will hopefully remain forever burned into my shriveled neurons. Will I give up drinking entirely? But the book certainly gave me more awareness about myself and may help some of my future decisions. May 28, Olivia Shanahan rated it really liked it. I finished this book four days after having a really depressing hangover.

I wasted my long weekend, curled up in bed feeling sorry for myself, rather than using the extra day to get more shit done and spend more time doing the things that I enjoy. Not only that, I don't remember most of the second half of the night, which from other peoples'recollections was terrific, I'm sad that I can't remember much. The book is one part journalistic, looking at Australia's love affair with alcohol, and one p I finished this book four days after having a really depressing hangover.

The book is one part journalistic, looking at Australia's love affair with alcohol, and one part about the author's 12 months without booze and her relationship with the liquid. I really enjoyed it! Feb 01, David Clement rated it really liked it. Starks book is not a fix all, nor is it really self help. What it is, is an interesting experiment and a fascinating look at what a huge part alcohol plays in most of our lives. I recognised many worrying traits that Stark fearlessly fesses up to here, and while it sounded some alarm bells it also gave me a sense of relief that I am 'not the only one'.

The tone of this book is never preachy and ties in details of the authors personal life that make her feel like a friend and stop the book ever Starks book is not a fix all, nor is it really self help. The tone of this book is never preachy and ties in details of the authors personal life that make her feel like a friend and stop the book ever feeling judgmental. Apr 03, Beth rated it did not like it. Jul 26, Ellen McMahon rated it really liked it Shelves: This was a cracking read. I loved the format: Stark lays out each chapter as a summary of her personal experiences each month without booze, while using them as a segue into wider themes, such as underage drinking, alcohol in sport and finding love while sober.

Her writing is engrossing and entertaining and her research is thorough. After more than two years since my last drink, so much of it heavily resonated with me. Though, sadly, if I hadn't given up drinking, I don't think I would 4.

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