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A heart-breaking memoir that takes you on an emotional journey with love and resilience leading the way

This book tells the true memoir of Louisa and Robert and their time together over a number of decades. Louisa Young met Robert Lockhart at the tender age of 17 at a party, which followed on by many years of an on-off romance. During this time, both of them developed their careers and had children by different people, but were always drawn back together. For much of Robert’s life he was addicted to alcohol and went through some very turbulent times, suffering injuries and near death experiences. Louisa loved Robert and helped him through these times, often without reciprocation, this quote really summed it up for me “he is bucket with a hole in it. I pour in love; love pours out”. This is a heart-breaking story which really pulls at your heartstrings knowing what emotional turmoil she went through and what she did for the man she loved so much. It has really opened my eyes to the journey that people suffering with alcoholism go on and how this has a profound and devastating impact on those around them. This book will stay with me for a long time.

Nicola Edwards

Did not like this book at all and cannot give any positive feedback whatsoever.

I am not able to give a positive review for this book at all and gave up half way through as did not connect at all to the main characters and actually really disliked both of them intensely. As someone who lives with an alcoholic and the disruption and chaos it causes for the family I am afraid I had little and no sympathy for the characters.

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Review: You Left Early: A True Story of Love and Alcohol by Louisa Young — a life ruined by addiction

Nothing could save a talented composer from destroying his life through alcohol.

T here are a million tales of love and many more of addiction, claims the press release for You Left Early, a grief memoir by the award-winning novelist Louisa Young. “This one is truly transcendent,” it promises.

The book follows almost four decades in the on/off love life of a posh London girl who falls for a raffish musical prodigy from Wigan and tries, unsuccessfully, to prise him from his one true obsession, alcohol.

It begins in 1976 on a staircase in an Oxford college where Young, daughter of the politician Lord Kennet and granddaughter of Kathleen Scott, wife of Scott of the Antarctic, bumps into the “mesmerising” Robert Lockhart. His seduction routine includes lying women under his piano while he plays Rachmaninov’s Prelude in G.

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Sarah's Reviews > You Left Early: An ‘extraordinarily powerful’ story from the Costa Novel Award shortlisted author

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You Left Early: A True Story of Love and Alcohol Hardcover – Aug. 14 2018

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‘Spectacular. I can’t stop thinking about it. Louisa Young is a beautiful, beautiful writer’ Cathy Rentzenbrink, author of The Last Act of Love

This brutal, beautiful memoir from award-winning novelist Louisa Young is a heartbreaking portrayal of love, grief and the merciless grip of addiction.

Louisa first met Robert Lockhart when they were both 17. Their stop-start romance lasted decades, in which time he became a celebrated composer and she, an acclaimed novelist. Always snapping at their heels was Robert’s alcoholism, a helpless, ferocious dependency that affected his personality before crippling and finally, despite five years of hard-won sobriety, killing him.

There are a million love stories, and a million stories of addiction. This one is truly transcendent. It is at once a compelling portrait of a unique and charismatic man; a bittersweet reflection on an all-consuming love affair; and a completely honest and incredibly affecting guide to how the partner of an alcoholic can possibly survive when the disease rips both their lives apart.

This is a hugely important book – raw and unflinching but also uplifting and elegiac, it should be essential reading for anybody who’s ever lost someone they loved.

• Print length 416 pages
• Language English
• Publisher The Borough Press
• Publication date Aug. 14 2018
• Dimensions 15.9 x 3.7 x 22.7 cm
• ISBN-10 0008265178
• ISBN-13 978-0008265175
• See all details

Product description

‘Rich and moving and beautifully written’ The Times

‘Bloody hell. It is an extraordinarily powerful and moving work – for all. Especially those of us who know alcoholics who can’t not be that. An achingly beautiful book which I devoured in two sittings. Amazing’ Emma Thompson

‘Spectacular. I can’t stop thinking about it. Louisa Young is a beautiful, beautiful writer and there is great courage and love in the way she addresses her subject. It’s the portrait of a man and his times and his illness told with love but also with an unflinching honesty that feels like a great gift to the reader’ Cathy Rentzenbrink, author of The Last Act of Love

‘Beautiful but, yes, sobering story … it is, at heart, an old-fashioned love’ Daily Mail

‘An extraordinarily candid bereavement memoir… As much as it’s an overwhelming love letter, Young’s book is also a sobering reminder of the devastating effects of alcoholism, not just on an individual’s life, but on everyone else around them’ Evening Standard

‘The most riveting, heartbreaking book I've ever read about addiction, but above all about the nature of love. Already one of my books of the year’ Linda Grant

‘Brave, honest and beautiful’ Nicholas Lezard, Evening Standard

‘Louisa Young's memoir of her long, bruising love for musical genius Robert Lockhart is as honest as the morning after and the best account of loving against all sense since Penelope Mortimer’s The Pumpkin Eater’ Patrick Gale

‘I’m still fucking crying. And it’s such a great work of art. I wish I'd read it before I worked as a drug and alcohol counsellor’ Philippa Perry

‘Oh my God, it’s so beautiful, and heartbreaking, and true’ Sam Baker, The Pool

'Had me weeping into my pillow… Anyone who has ever loved an addict will recognise most of what she has to say’ iNews

‘An important book, one that demands we rethink a culture of blame around alcoholism … moving, harrowing and tirelessly empathetic’ Daily Express

About the Author

Louisa Young was born in London and read history at Cambridge. She co-wrote the Lionboy series with her daughter, and is the author of eight further books including the bestselling My Dear I Wanted to Tell You, which was shortlisted for the Costa Novel Award, and was a Richard and Judy Book Club choice, and its acclaimed sequels The Heroes’ Welcome and Devotion. Her work is published in 36 languages. She lives in London.

Product details

• Publisher ‏ : ‎ The Borough Press (Aug. 14 2018)
• Language ‏ : ‎ English
• Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 416 pages
• ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 0008265178
• ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-0008265175
• Item weight ‏ : ‎ 600 g
• Dimensions ‏ : ‎ 15.9 x 3.7 x 22.7 cm
• #5,169 in Grief & Bereavement (Books)
• #6,410 in Biographies of the Rich & Famous (Books)
• #8,561 in Author Biographies (Books)

About the author

Louisa young.

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You Left Early by Louisa Young (Review by Monique Roffey)

While there is a body of literature out there written by those who have had alcoholism badly, books such as The Lost Weekend , by Charles R. Jackson, Under the Volcano , by Malcolm Lowry and the memoir What to Look for In Winter: A Memoir in Blindness , by Candia McWilliam, fewer books, if any, have been written by those who love an alcoholic. Louisa Young’s memoir, You Left Early , (published yesterday by The Borough Press/Harper Collins) is such a book. It is the same subject, alcoholism, but a shift in lens. The lens is that of lover, and not just a lover en passant, or a lover of a small chapter of a life of an alcoholic. Louisa Young fell in love with a man, Robert Lockhart, when they were both very young and she loved him for thirty years. As she says, she was either half in love with him, or madly in love with him for most of her adult life. The love affair began in 1976, when they first met on a staircase in an Oxford College.

Robert Lockhart, from Wigan, a musical prodigy who, at an early age, won a scholarship and then achieved a double first degree at Magdalen College, Oxford, was a the kind of man who signifies a strong animus and imago figure for many women, or rather a type of woman: brilliant, handsome, talented, charming, intense, romantic – in short, yer basic likeable unpredictable, impossible-to-pin down rogue. Women adored him and Young writes of women lying under his piano when he played. He seduced and ravished many, including her. The first twenty years of their relationship contained many adventures, trysts, periods of loving monogamy and still, comparatively, only a medium amount of pain. In these decades, Lockhart is a man who drinks, and who is wedded to drink, and he is also, like many drinkers, evasive. Also, he is a man who is loveable, and who loves her, and he shows up, albeit intermittently, and when he does he is dazzling and heartbreakingly beautiful. At some point, though, he runs off and marries someone else and has a son. Young, at this time, also has a daughter with another man. It’s when Lockhart reappears, three years later, post failed marriage, his luck starting to wear thin, that the story, and hence the plot, grows darker. Young, whose pride has played an upper hand in keeping Lockhart well sussed, says she will commit to loving him only after he commits to stop drinking. It’s then that their affair shifts gear to another level of pain.

Lockhart dies a decade later. He does get clean and sober, for five of those years. His final years of alcoholism are so grim, they are hard to read. He owns a flat littered with bottles filled with piss, he is banned from every local pub. He wanders the streets. He and Young separate. One night, he almost snaps his foot off during a drunken fugue. He tries the famous rehab Clouds, for six weeks, only to drink again. Young, still in love with him, tracks her relationship with hope. He ends up half dead, on the stairs outside his flat, emaciated and shit smeared, barely conscious. It’s not really till Lockhart almost dies and loses his mind completely, is given a six month dry out in a rehab in Chalk Farm, that he begins to do the necessary work to reverse the decades of damage. You could say his case is standard and in no way unique because alcoholism, in society, is so common. Eventually, Lockhart surrenders to AA and begins to complete the 12 steps. It is a grim and sad story, for it ends in cancer, and death and a crazy death at that.

Copyright Sarah Lee – Novelist and writer Louisa Young.

And yet this is no misery memoir. Anyone who has known a great love will understand this book and know that its primary theme is Eros. Young wasn’t a do-gooding Saviour and rescuer; she was Lockhart’s lover. There were times when she walked away, disconnected and disassociated to save her self. There’s fine writing here, hard facts about alcohol and just how much alcohol is sold in the UK every year and how most of it is consumed by people who have alcoholism as badly as Lockhart. “I want to throw it open,” Young said to me recently. “The shame keeps people silent and silence breeds ignorance.” Indeed. All good memoirs contain insight, the reflective voice of the narrator who has survived her or his own life, has added things up and reports back. When we write a memoir, we share our humanity. When we readers watch the memoirist making sense of her world, no matter how different our story is, we feel a little less alone. Memoirs are an important part of shaping culture and it’s vital that people write them and that women, in particular, write them. Shame kills off so many true stories, and so culture has lots of holes. This is why You Left Early is so good; it plugs a hole. It contributes and gives us a unique understanding of an impossible and taboo world. Best of all, it’s a love story.

– Monique Roffey is an award-winning Trinidadian-born British writer and memoirist. She is the author of six books, five novels and a memoir. Her most recent novel,  The Tryst , was published in July 2017 by indie press Dodo Ink.

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1 thought on “ you left early by louisa young (review by monique roffey) ”.

Wow. This book will hit a nerve with me. My mum was an alcoholic, so it would be a challenge and a half for me to read this. Thanks for sharing 🙂

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You left early: a true story of love and alcohol.

On Sale: June 26, 2020

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‘Extraordinarily powerful’ Emma Thompson

There are a million love stories, and a million stories of addiction. This one is transcendent.

Louisa Young met Robert Lockhart when they were both 17. Their stop-start romance lasted decades, in which time he became a celebrated composer and she, an acclaimed novelist.

This is both a compelling portrait of a lifelong love affair, and an incredibly affecting guide to how the partner of a 'charismatic, infuriating, adorable, self-sabotaging’ alcoholic can find the strength to survive when the disease rips both their lives apart.

‘Rich and moving and beautifully written’ The Times

‘Spectacular. I can’t stop thinking about it’ Cathy Rentzenbrink

‘Extraordinarily candid’ Evening Standard

‘Beautiful, and heartbreaking, and true’ Sam Baker, The Pool

‘Moving, harrowing and tirelessly empathetic’ Daily Express

Goodreads reviews for You Left Early: A True Story of Love and Alcohol

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You Left Early: An ‘extraordinarily powerful’ story from the Costa Novel Award shortlisted author Paperback – 4 April 2019

Purchase options and add-ons

‘Extraordinarily powerful’ Emma Thompson

There are a million love stories, and a million stories of addiction. This one is transcendent.

Louisa Young met Robert Lockhart when they were both 17. Their stop-start romance lasted decades, in which time he became a celebrated composer and she, an acclaimed novelist.

This is both a compelling portrait of a lifelong love affair, and an incredibly affecting guide to how the partner of a 'charismatic, infuriating, adorable, self-sabotaging’ alcoholic can find the strength to survive when the disease rips both their lives apart.

‘Rich and moving and beautifully written’ The Times

‘Spectacular. I can’t stop thinking about it’ Cathy Rentzenbrink

‘Extraordinarily candid’ Evening Standard

‘Beautiful, and heartbreaking, and true’ Sam Baker, The Pool

‘Moving, harrowing and tirelessly empathetic’ Daily Express

• Print length 416 pages
• Language English
• Publisher The Borough Press
• Publication date 4 April 2019
• Dimensions 12.9 x 3 x 19.8 cm
• ISBN-10 0008265208
• ISBN-13 978-0008265205
• See all details

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Product description

‘An extraordinarily powerful and moving work – for all… An achingly beautiful book which I devoured in two sittings. Amazing’ Emma Thompson

‘Spectacular. I can’t stop thinking about it. Louisa Young is a beautiful, beautiful writer and there is great courage and love in the way she addresses her subject. It’s the portrait of a man and his times and his illness told with love but also with an unflinching honesty that feels like a great gift to the reader’ Cathy Rentzenbrink, author of The Last Act of Love

‘Beautiful but, yes, sobering story … it is, at heart, an old-fashioned love’ Daily Mail

‘Extraordinarily candid… As much as it’s an overwhelming love letter, Young’s book is also a sobering reminder of the devastating effects of alcoholism, not just on an individual’s life, but on everyone else around them’ Evening Standard

‘The most riveting, heartbreaking book I've ever read about addiction, but above all about the nature of love. Already one of my books of the year’ Linda Grant

‘Brave, honest and beautiful’ Nicholas Lezard, Evening Standard

‘Louisa Young's memoir of her long, bruising love for musical genius Robert Lockhart is as honest as the morning after and the best account of loving against all sense since Penelope Mortimer’s The Pumpkin Eater ’ Patrick Gale

‘I’m still fucking crying. And it’s such a great work of art. I wish I'd read it before I worked as a drug and alcohol counsellor’ Philippa Perry

‘Oh my God, it’s so beautiful, and heartbreaking, and true’ Sam Baker, The Pool

'Had me weeping into my pillow… Anyone who has ever loved an addict will recognise most of what she has to say’ iNews

‘An important book, one that demands we rethink a culture of blame around alcoholism … moving, harrowing and tirelessly empathetic’ Daily Express

Book Description

An ‘extraordinarily powerful’ story from the Costa Novel Award shortlisted author

About the Author

Louisa Young was born in London and read history at Cambridge. She co-wrote the Lionboy series with her daughter, and is the author of eight further books including the bestselling My Dear I Wanted to Tell You, which was shortlisted for the Costa Novel Award, and was a Richard and Judy Book Club choice, and its acclaimed sequels The Heroes’ Welcome and Devotion. Her work is published in 36 languages. She lives in London.

Product details

• Publisher ‏ : ‎ The Borough Press (4 April 2019)
• Language ‏ : ‎ English
• Paperback ‏ : ‎ 416 pages
• ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 0008265208
• ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-0008265205
• Dimensions ‏ : ‎ 12.9 x 3 x 19.8 cm
• 14 in Alcohol & Drug Abuse Biographies
• 18 in Drug & Chemical Abuse Addiction & Recovery

About the author

Louisa young.

Discover more of the author’s books, see similar authors, read author blogs and more

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You Left Early

• A True Story of Love and Alcohol
• By: Louisa Young
• Narrated by: Louisa Young
• Length: 12 hrs and 2 mins
• 4.4 out of 5 stars 4.4 (181 ratings)

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This brutal, beautiful memoir from award-winning novelist Louisa Young is a heartbreaking portrayal of love, grief and the merciless grip of addiction.

Louisa first met Robert Lockhart when they were both 17. Their stop-start romance lasted decades, in which time he became a celebrated composer and she an acclaimed novelist. Always snapping at their heels was Robert’s alcoholism, a helpless, ferocious dependency that affected his personality before crippling and finally, despite five years of hard-won sobriety, killing him.

There are a million love stories and a million stories of addiction. This one is truly transcendent. It is at once a compelling portrait of a unique and charismatic man, a bittersweet reflection on an all-consuming love affair and a completely honest and incredibly affecting guide to how the partner of an alcoholic can possibly survive when the disease rips both their lives apart.

This is a hugely important book. Raw and unflinching but also uplifting and elegiac, it should be essential listening for anybody who’s ever lost someone they loved.

• Unabridged Audiobook
• Categories: Biographies & Memoirs

Critic reviews

"Spectacular. I can’t stop thinking about it. Louisa Young is a beautiful, beautiful writer and there is great courage and love in the way she addresses her subject. It’s the portrait of a man and his times and his illness told with love but also with an unflinching honesty that feels like a great gift to the reader." (Cathy Rentzenbrink, author of The Last Act of Love )

"Oh my God, it’s so beautiful, and heartbreaking, and true." (Sam Baker, The Pool )

More from the same

• My Dear I Wanted to Tell You
• Twelve Months and a Day

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What listeners say about You Left Early

• 4.5 out of 5 stars 4.4 out of 5.0
• 5 Stars 134
• 5 Stars 121
• 4.5 out of 5 stars 4.5 out of 5.0
• 5 Stars 127

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Audible.co.uk reviews, amazon reviews.

• Overall 5 out of 5 stars
• Performance 5 out of 5 stars
• Story 5 out of 5 stars

• Mrs. Jacqueline M. Carter

Heart wrenchingly

Agonising and brilliant, made me cry often, but in the next breath lifted me up again; SO beautifully written and narrated. It felt like a privilege to have been allowed a glimpse into Robert and Louisa's story, special and forever memorable. 😖😎💕

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3 people found this helpful

Very moving and beautifully written

I have listened to this book twice now. It is profoundly sad but uplifting at the same time. Louisa Young graphically describes the agony of having a partner who is ill with alcoholism and how his illness destroys him. I don’t think I have ever read a book like this before and doubt I will again. Superb.

Absolutely love her voice

Brutal, sad and authentic I absolutely loved every single bit! Can’t stress enough how much I love the narrator voice tho 🥰

Great true life story

Maybe it’s true that lights that burn twice as bright burn half as long. Written from the heart of the author with true descriptions of the decline of a truly gifted person to alcohol.

i loved this from beginning to the end. also this that writer is reading this storry too. thank you for this book Louise! amazing!!!!

• Performance 3 out of 5 stars

Heartbreaking tale of love an addiction.

This is a heart rendering tale of love between two ‘soul mates’ and the third entity in the relationship- alcohol. Louisa Young’s prose is beautiful (as anyone who has read any of her other books might expect ) and desperately sad at times, though shot through with moments of absurd joy. This is an excellent portrayal of what it is like to love with addiction and ultimately what it is to be in love with someone who loves something else more. I don’t love Young’s narration- but she doesn’t make too bad a fist of it. A fantastic book , well worth a credit.

• Performance 4 out of 5 stars

An emotional journey

Once I had tuned into Louisa’s voice I was taken on an emotional rollercoaster. The sister of an alcoholic brother I felt her pain. The ending had me weeping in Tesco’s carpark wishing I had met Robert and listened to his music

the love sadness heart wrenching honesty that Lou told in her story had me speechless, thank you for telling this story, admiration all the way, hope you find someone who adores you, you are a truely beautiful talented person. I never wanted your story to end, the detail in how you told the story was amazing I felt I was with you in the room... thank you

Beautifully Tragic

A very moving and heart felt story of a gradual process of self destruction. The view of Louisa is one of a fly on the wall as well as someone who is completely immersed in this painful journey. Louisas use of humour and strength is a amazing ability, with this combination she tells her story quite magnificently. Thought provoking and vert touching.

Thoroughly enjoyed the story

Written beautifully, felt as though I knew them both. Related to many parts. Really enjoyed it

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"Eruption" (to be published June 3 by Little, Brown & Co.), Michael Crichton's thriller about a massive volcanic eruption in Hawaii, was unfinished when the "Jurassic Park" author died in 2008; more than 15 years later, James Patterson, the bestselling author behind the Alex Cross series, has completed Crichton's work.  

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"Eruption" by Michael Crichton and James Patterson

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A helicopter appeared in the window of the data room at the Hawaiian Volcano Observatory, frighteningly close and low; it rushed past them and swooped down into the caldera.

"Sweet Jesus!" lead programmer Kenny Wong yelled, running to the window to get a better look.

"Get the tail number," John MacGregor, scientist in charge of HVO, snapped, "and call Hilo ASAP. Whoever that idiot is, he's going to give one of the tourists a haircut!" He went to the window and watched as the helicopter dropped low and thumped its way across the smoking plain of the caldera. The pilot couldn't be more than twenty feet above the ground.

Beside MacGregor, Kenny watched through binoculars. "It's Paradise Helicopters," he said, sounding puzzled. Paradise Helicopters was a reputable operation based in Hilo. Their pilots ferried tourists over the volcanic fields and up the coast to Kohala to look at the waterfalls.

Mac shook his head. "They know there's a fifteen-hundred-foot limit everywhere in the park. What the hell are they doing?"

The helicopter swung back and slowly circled the far edge of the caldera, nearly brushing the smoking vertical walls.

The woman in charge of the volcano alert levels, Pia Wilson, cupped her hand over the phone. "I got Paradise Helicopters. They say they're not flying. They leased that one to Jake."

"Is there any news at the moment I might like?" Mac said.

"With Jake at the controls, there is no good news," Kenny said.

"Apparently Jake's got a cameraman from CBS with him, some stringer from Hilo," Pia said. "The guy's pushing for exclusive footage of the new eruption."

"Hey, Mac? You're not going to believe this." She flicked on all the remote monitors at the main video panel to show the eastern flank of Kīlauea. "The pilot just flew into the eastern lake at the summit of Kīlauea."

MacGregor sat down in front of the monitors. Four miles away, the black cinder cone of Pu'u'ō'ō — the Hawaiian name meant "Hill of the Digging Stick" — rose three hundred feet high on the east flank. That cone had been a center of volcanic activity since it erupted in 1983, spitting a fountain of lava two thousand feet into the air. The eruption continued all year, producing enormous quantities of lava that flowed for eight miles down to the ocean. Along the way, it had buried the entire town of Kalapana, destroyed two hundred houses, and filled in a large bay at Kaimūī, where the lava poured steaming into the sea. The activity from Pu'u'ō'ō went on for thirty-five years — one of the longest continuous volcanic eruptions in recorded history — ending only when the crater collapsed in 2018.

Tourist helicopters scoured the area looking for a new place to take pictures, and pilots discovered a lake that had opened to the east of the collapsed crater. Hot lava bubbled and slapped in incandescent waves against the sides of a smaller cone. Occasionally the lava would fountain fifty feet into the air above the glowing surface. But the crater containing the eastern lake was only about a hundred yards in diameter—much too narrow to descend into.

Helicopters never went inside it.

MacGregor said, "Do we know gas levels down in there?" Near the lava lake, there would be high concentrations of sulfur dioxide and carbon monoxide. MacGregor squinted at his monitor.

"Can you see if the pilot's got oxygen? 'Cause the cameraman sure doesn't. Both these idiots could pass out if they stay there."

"Or the engine could quit," Kenny said. He shook his head. "Helicopter engines need air. And there's not a lot of air down there."

Jenny Kimura, head lab scientist in charge of the lab, said, "They're leaving now, Mac."

As they watched, the helicopter began to rise. They saw the cameraman turn and raise an angry fist at Jake Rogers. Clearly he didn't want to leave.

That meant Rogers's passenger was even more reckless than he was.

"Go," MacGregor said to the screen as if Jake Rogers could hear him. "You've been lucky, Jake. Just go."

The helicopter rose faster. The cameraman slammed the door angrily. The helicopter began to turn as it reached the crater rim.

"Now we'll see if they make it through the thermals," MacGregor said.

Suddenly there was a bright flash of light, and the helicopter swung and seemed to flip onto its side. It spun laterally across the interior and slammed into the far wall of the crater, raising a tremendous cloud of ash that obscured their view.

In silence, they watched as the dust slowly cleared. They saw the helicopter on its side, about two hundred feet below the rim, resting precariously at the edge of a deep shelf below the crater wall, a rocky incline that sloped down to the lava lake.

"Somebody get on the radio," Mac said, "and see if the dumb bastards are alive."

Everyone in the room continued to stare at the monitors. Nothing happened right away; it was as if time had somehow stopped moving when the helicopter did. Then, as they watched, a few small boulders beneath the helicopter began to trickle down. The boulders splashed into the lava lake and disappeared below the molten surface.

More rocks clattered down the sloping crater wall, then more —larger rocks now —and then it became a landslide. The helicopter shifted and began to glide down with the rocks toward the hot lava. They all watched in horror as the helicopter continued its downward slide. Dust and steam obscured their view for a moment, and when it blew away, they could see the helicopter lying on its side, rotor blades bent against the rock, skids facing outward, about fifty feet above the lava.

Kenny said, "That's scree. I don't know how long it'll hold."

MacGregor nodded. Most of the crater was composed of ejecta from the volcano, pumice-like rocks and pebbles that were crumbly and treacherous underfoot, ready to collapse at any moment.

From across the room, Jenny said, "Mac? Hilo still has contact. They're both alive. The cameraman's hurt, but they're alive."

"How much daylight do we have left?" MacGregor asked her.

"An hour and a half at most."

"Call Bill Kamoku, tell him to start his engine," Mac said. "Call Hilo, tell them to close the area to all other aircraft. Call Kona, tell 'em the same thing. Meantime I need a pack and a rig and somebody to stand safety. You decide who. I'm out of here in five. We wait, they die."  

The red HVO helicopter lifted off the observatory helipad and headed south. Directly in front of them, four miles away, they saw the black cone of Pu'u'ō'ō, its thick fume cloud rising into the air.

Mac rechecked his equipment in his front seat, making sure he had everything. Jenny Kimura and Tim Kapaana were in the rear. Tim was the biggest of their field techs, a former semipro linebacker.

He stared out of the bubble. They were over the rift zone now, following a line of smoking cracks and small cinder cones in the lava fields. The collapsed crater of Pu'u'ō'ō was a mile ahead and just beyond it was the eastern lake.

Bill said, "Where do you want to put down?"

"South side is best."

The helicopter set down about twenty yards from the crater rim. Immediately, the helicopter's bubble clouded over with steam from nearby vents. MacGregor opened his door and felt air both wet and burning on his face.

"Can't stay here, Mac," Bill said. "I've got to move downslope."

"Go ahead," Mac said, then pulled off his headset and stepped down onto the gray-black lava without hesitation, ducking his head beneath the spinning rotor blades.

The downed helicopter was at the opposite side of them, on a shelf above the lake. But its position was even more precarious now. The lava could spin at any moment, meaning the craft was perhaps seconds away from sliding down into the lava. Mac had already zipped up his green jumpsuit. He cinched the harness tighter around his waist and legs. He could loosen it when he got down there and put it around another person.

MacGregor handed the ends of the rope to Tim. He adjusted the radio headset over his ears, pulled the microphone alongside his cheek. Jenny had put on her own headset and clipped the transmitter to her belt, and she heard MacGregor say, "Here we go." Jenny watched as Mac descended slowly and carefully into the crater.

The lava lake was nearly circular, its black crust broken by streaks of brighter and more incandescent red. Steam issued from at least a dozen vents in the rocks. The walls were sheer, the footing uncertain; Mac stumbled and slid as he went down.

Suddenly his extended leg hit a solid surface, like he was a base runner sliding into second.

Although he was only a few feet below the rim, he could feel the searing heat from the lake. The air shimmered unsteadily in the convection of rising currents. Between that and the sulfurous odors swirling from the crater, he began to feel slightly nauseated.

As Mac descended along the sheer wall, inside his heat-resistant jumpsuit, he was sweating. Thin Mylar-foam insulation sewn between layers of Gore-Tex kept sweat off the skin, because if the temperature went up suddenly, the sweat would turn to steam and scald his body, meaning almost certain death.

The helicopter hung only fifty yards above the lava lake. Below the crust, the glowing lava was around 1800 degrees Fahrenheit, and that was at the low end.

"There's a guy coming down for us."

Pilot Jake Rogers, on his side and in a tremendous amount of pain, looked straight down at the lava lake and heard the hissing of the gas escaping from the glowing cracks. He saw spatters of lava, like glowing pancake batter, thrown up on the sides of the crater.

Jake didn't think his leg was broken. The cameraman—Glenn something —was in worse shape, moaning in the back seat that his shoulder was dislocated. He rocked in pain, which rocked the helicopter. The sudden shift of weight sent the copter sliding downward again, throwing Jake's head against the Plexiglas bubble.

The cameraman began to scream.

Only twenty yards away now, MacGregor watched helplessly as the helicopter began a rumbling descent. He heard yelling from inside, and it must have been the cameraman, because Jake Rogers swore at the guy and told him to shut the hell up. The helicopter slid another twenty feet toward the lava, then miraculously stopped again. The struts were still facing outward; the twisted rotors were buried in the scree. The passenger door was still facing upward.

Jenny turned to Tim, covered her microphone, and said, "How long has he been down there?"

"Eighteen minutes."

"He's not wearing his mask. That may help him communicate clearly, but it's going to get to him soon. We both know that."

She meant the sulfur dioxide gas, which was concentrated near the lake. Sulfur dioxide combined with the layer of water on the surface of the lungs to form sulfuric acid. It was a hazard for anyone working around volcanoes.

"Mac?" she said. "Did you put your mask on?"

He didn't answer.

She looked through the binoculars, saw that Mac was moving again. He was above the helicopter now, about to lean down on the bubble. She couldn't see his face but saw straps across the back of his head, so at least he was wearing the mask.

She saw him drop to his knees and crawl gingerly onto the bubble. Mac picked up a short crowbar and started trying to pry open the door. He saw Jake pushing up on the Plexiglas from inside. He heard the cameraman whimpering. MacGregor strained against the crowbar, using all the leverage he had, until, with a metallic whang, the door sprang open wide and clanged hard against the side panel. MacGregor held his breath, praying that the helicopter wouldn't begin to slide again.

Jake Rogers stuck his head up through the open door. "I owe you, brah."

"Yeah, brah, you do." MacGregor reached out a hand, and the pilot grabbed it and clambered onto the bubble. Once he was out, MacGregor saw that his left pants leg was soaked in blood; it was smeared all over the Plexiglas dome.

MacGregor asked, "Can you walk?"

"Up there?" Jake pointed to the rim above. "Bet your ass."

In the back, the photographer was huddled in a ball at the far side of the helicopter. Still whimpering. A haole guy, late twenties, skinny, his face the color of paste.

"He got a name?" Mac asked Jake.

"Glenn." Jake was already starting up the slope.

"Glenn," MacGregor said. "Look at me."

The cameraman looked up at him with vacant eyes.

"I want you to stand up," MacGregor said, "and take my hand."

The cameraman started to stand, but as he did, the lava lake below began to burble, and a small fountain spit upward with a hiss. The cameraman collapsed back down and started to cry.

Over the headset, Mac heard Jenny say, "Mac? You've now been down twenty-six minutes. Glenn and Jake already have pulmonary restriction. You've got to get out of there before you do."

"I got this," MacGregor said, looking at the lake through the bubble. Everything he'd learned from everywhere he'd been in the world of volcanoes told him he wasn't fine at all.

"We're gonna die here!" Glenn yelled, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Just hang on," Mac barked.

Then he climbed down into the helicopter.

The helicopter slowly rotated on its axis. Mac gripped the seat, trying to keep his balance, watching helplessly as the world outside spun, the Plexiglas bubble closer than ever to the glowing surface. Then it stopped, and the Plexiglas started to blister and melt, and smoke filled the interior of the helicopter.

"Just try to keep your balance so you don't jar this thing," Mac said.

The cameraman stepped between the seats, coughing because of the smoke, moving as if in a daze.

They were just a few feet above the lava lake. Small sparks were spattering up. MacGregor stepped out, drew Glenn after him.

He tried to ignore the smell of fuel.

Nearly out of time.

Glenn followed him outside.

"You got this," Mac said, steadying him as his feet slid.

"I'm scared of heights," Glenn said, keeping his eyes fixed on the rim of the crater, away from the lava.

MacGregor thought: You should have thought of that before, you jackhammer .

Mac looked up, saw Jake about ten yards above them, reaching for Tim. Down here, the sharp odor of aviation fuel was stronger than ever.

They kept moving. The guy looked around and said, "Hey, what's that smell?"

Too late to lie to him, too close to the top . "Fuel," John MacGregor said.

His radio crackled, and he heard Jenny say, "Mac, the lab says the concentration from the fuel vapor is going up."

Mac looked back and saw the Plexiglas bubble of the helicopter had begun to burn; flames licked upward along the fuselage.

His headset crackled again. "Mac, you're out of time—"

But in the very next moment Tim was grabbing Glenn in his big arms and pulling him over the side. He quickly did the same for Mac, who glanced back and saw the helicopter enveloped in flames. Glenn tried to move back to the crater, but Tim shoved him hard toward their copter.

"We're safe now," the cameraman said. "What's the freaking rush?"

The helicopter exploded.

There was a roar, and the force of the explosion nearly knocked them all to the ground. A yellow-orange fireball burst up beyond the crater rim. A moment later, hot, sharp metal fragments clattered onto the slope all around them as they hurried to the red HVO helicopter.

          From "Eruption." Copyright © 2024 by Michael Crichton and James Patterson. Reprinted by permission of Little, Brown and Company, a division of Hachette Book Group. All rights reserved.

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• "Eruption"  by Michael Crichton and James Patterson (Little, Brown & Co.), in Hardcover, Large Print, eBook and Audio formats, available June 3
• michaelcrichton.com
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You Left Early: A True Story of Love and Alcohol Paperback – June 28, 2018

• Print length 416 pages
• Language English
• Publisher The Borough Press
• Publication date June 28, 2018
• Dimensions 6.02 x 1.22 x 8.7 inches
• ISBN-10 0008265186
• ISBN-13 978-0008265182
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• Publisher ‏ : ‎ The Borough Press; edition (June 28, 2018)
• Language ‏ : ‎ English
• Paperback ‏ : ‎ 416 pages
• ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 0008265186
• ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-0008265182
• Item Weight ‏ : ‎ 1.06 pounds
• Dimensions ‏ : ‎ 6.02 x 1.22 x 8.7 inches

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HALO Bar and Lounge

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8070 Greenfield Rd

Detroit, MI 48228

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I'm all about a low key, divey watering hole and this place fit the bill. I was expecting it to be packed as the parking lot was full (with the exception of a couple of open spots), but thankfully, that wasn't the case. I'm not sure of their happy hour times (we arrived closer to 7pm) but we had a couple of drinks each and they were only 4.00 for well cocktails (not a bad price indeed). Bartenders were somewhat friendly (but not overly), and they weren't as attentive being that it wasn't busy. If you want to play tunes out of their jukebox you might need to ask the bartender to unlock it as an electronic message was displayed (not that the music playing was bad, I just wanted to hear some of my choice). Overall, I really like this place and will be back during our stay.

I love this bar. The drinks are poured heavy and the beer is ice cold. Nice patio out back with ample seating. Friendly bartenders and a friendly crowd.

Can be hit or miss depending on if there's an event. Drinks are poured well and with the new owner it's had some great upgrades indoors and out.

I am a queer trans woman who went to Hayloft with another queer friend. We were so eager to go to a gay saloon in Detroit, but the reality was devastating. For over fifteen minutes at a fairly slow bar we we continuously ignored. The bartenders repeatedly made direct eye contact before quickly looking away and avoiding us. One bartender seemed to even wave the other away from serving or even acknowledging us. When we decided to give up after it was made abundantly clear we weren't welcome there we heard laughter at us while walking out the door. This isn't an LGBTQIA friendly bar, that was made obvious; It's was a profoundly unwelcoming experience at a bar for cis gay men and not the community at large. It's heartbreaking to know that I would have been treated better back when I was closeted and miserable. Skip this place and go to Adam's Apple nearby or one of the other LGBTQ friendly bars in the area. It's sad to see this from a bar which has been around for so long.

I walked in and it was an older crowd and I felt like I was looked at weirdly. Probably not a place for younger people.

Place to relax and have some heavy drinks. Mix clients bartenders are awesome. Jukebox is a massive plus.

One of the "safer" gay bars to go to in Dee-town, and gets one star for that. Just use an established route (Greenfield) and use Dearborn as your "landing strip." They DO watch the lot and the nearby street, that's a plus. But don't expect much. Generally a group of "regulars" or pals, mostly from Ferndale, this mixed with a few local Detroiters. Once a fun place sporting an eclectic crowd with lots of daddies and daddy bears and a fun Lincoln Park-Westland-Livonia-and beyond crowd, the only thing I see these days are 30-ish Ferndale types in Steve Olberman glasses, mixed with uninteresting fatties. The few dads that wander in are generally ignored, and as a result, and understandably so, they leave before they even finish a drink. Not the fun (or mixy) place it once was, even just a few years ago. And to think this bar replaced the Silver Star! Friday and Saturday nites (late, after 11) are the best bet. Trips here during the week reveal nearly deserted place with small cliques - don't risk your life. Gay bars in most places (especially Detroit) are pretty vacant anymore probably due to fancy phone apps (which, btw, are the rage around here) for meeting most any guy these days. A few of the old crowd now go to the R&R (from what I hear) but that's on Michigan Ave...a very dangerous place - don't go alone.

Quintessential classic Detroit dive gaybar - expect anything beyond that and you'll be pleasantly surprised. We tried visiting on a whim - decent bar specials and music. Not too loud - not too quiet, but if your under the age of 30 - this may not be what some are accustomed too. Grateful such a place and atmosphere still exists amongst the stereotypical "frills" of the times. We left early due to sudden plans - no problem going back.

When traveling I always have to contend with the issue of do I go out or not. Early nights (read late afternoon) is usually a dismal proposition. That being said, I went to the Hayloft on Tuesday evening and had a nice time. Jason and Conner were welcoming and attentive bartenders. I decided to return Wednesday, once again had a great time thanks to the bartender Jimmy. Let me be clear, this isn't a dance bar, it's a neighborhood bar. The staff and the patrons are very friendly, making it well worth the trip.

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She left the CIA in frustration. Now her spy novel is racking up awards.

I.S. Berry scored rave reviews and awards for her literary debut, “The Peacock and the Sparrow,” a novel mined from her time at the CIA.

She felt each boom like an electric jolt as she was trying to sleep in her Alexandria, Va., apartment.

It was August 2006, and Ilana Berry was then a 30-year-old Central Intelligence Agency case officer. Outside, construction crews were beginning work on the Woodrow Wilson Bridge, knocking down the old expanse to make way for a new six-lane roadway.

But each rumble threw Berry off the steady anchors of time and place, hurling her back to her last year stationed in war-rocked Baghdad. There, she had spent sleepless nights alone in a trailer as insurgent mortars and rockets screamed into the Green Zone, the central area of the Iraqi capital where the American military, diplomatic and intelligence staffs were housed.

“I remember waking up and having the worst panic attack of my life,” she recalled. “I called my parents to say that we are all under attack.”

To cope, Berry began tracking when the crews would do demolitions and set an alarm for herself to stay awake. She began writing, caging the emotional fallout of her time in Iraq into the tidy frames of sentences. That writing would kick off a sequence of events that would pit her against the agency’s bureaucracy and end in her resignation.

But it would also start her second act as a celebrated, award-winning novelist — one that would be eventually be invited back to the CIA.

Berry applied to join the CIA while attending law school at the University of Virginia, believing it would combine her interests in international relations and intelligence work with her sense of patriotic mission.

Raised outside D.C., she was a 1994 graduate of Thomas Jefferson High School for Science and Technology. She spent time in the Balkans after graduating from Haverford College, an experience that led to a position as an intelligence analyst with the Defense Department. “I loved the work of intel, and I wanted to make it my career,” Berry said. “So the CIA is the place to go, right?”

After being accepted, she trained at Camp Peary near Williamsburg, Va., known as “The Farm.” Much of that training was about logistics — how to conduct surveillance, how to know if you are being surveilled. But the more in-depth psychological elements made Berry wonder if she was in the right place.

“Your whole training is basically how to find people’s vulnerabilities,” Berry said. “What are their motivations? Is it flattery or vanity or revenge, or do they hate their boss? That was never an easy fit for me.”

But Berry graduated with high marks and volunteered to be stationed in Iraq for a year-long assignment. She arrived in 2004 as doubts were beginning to stain America’s initial reasoning for toppling Saddam Hussein’s regime. Among the CIA team, there was a growing realization that there were no weapons of mass destruction in the country — the main justification for the U.S.-led coalition’s invasion.

Berry found that the CIA trailers didn’t have the armored protections or safety protocols in place like their military counterparts. But when she advised CIA headquarters about the danger, she was ignored, she said.

“We weren’t taking the precautions that we should have been,” Berry said. “And it was clear we knew we weren’t.”

One specific incident left Berry with doubts about the CIA’s mission. She got a tip from an Iraqi informant about a possible suspect involved in the 2003 truck bombing of the U.N. Baghdad headquarters that left 22 people dead, including the commissioner for human rights at the time. Berry’s tip led to the suspect being taken into custody, but he claimed he was not involved. Still, he was carted off to a detention facility. Berry later heard from other officers that they were unsure of his guilt, and she worries he may have been wrongfully pulled into the maze of America’s post-9/11 detention system.

In response to Berry’s allegations about her time in Iraq, a CIA agency spokesperson did not address specific complaints or allegations but said the agency “is absolutely committed to fostering a safe, respectful, and equitable workplace environment for all our employees, and we have taken significant steps to ensure that, including strengthening the Agency’s handling of issues when they arise.”

The living conditions. The murky mission. All that seemed to Berry to fuel rampant alcoholism at the CIA station. “Baghdad really screwed me up,” she said.

Her tour done but still living with the emotional aftershocks in Virginia, Berry kept writing. “My goal was never to publish my account of Baghdad,” she said. “It was to make sense of what happened.”

She had volunteered to go next to Afghanistan and was enrolled in Farsi-language classes. During that time, Berry volunteered to the agency that she had been writing about her experience.

According to agency regulation, all current and former CIA employees must submit any writing they plan on releasing to the CIA’s Publication Classification Review Board, which determines whether a potential book or screenplay or writing contains classified information. After the agency learned Berry was working on a memoir, she submitted the manuscript.

When her writing came back, it was covered in redactions that Berry felt made little sense. “They redacted my height and weight,” she said. “They redacted the color of the sky. These are clearly things that are not classified.”

Berry felt the pushback was all due to the unflattering light the account showed the agency. Her complaints in Iraq had already begun to hurt her prospects at the CIA. Her follow-up assignment in Afghanistan was pulled. She channeled her frustration into an appeal over her manuscript.

“I fought every single redaction, if for no other reason than to stick it to them that this was wrong,” she said.

Mark Zaid, a D.C. attorney who regularly represents CIA officers and helped Berry with her appeal, said he believes the board’s difficult responses were tied to the protective stance the agency assumed at the time. “There is a deep-seated paranoia and ignorance among security officers,” he said. “Their internal processes are geared for damage control, no matter whether there is damage or not.” Zaid later hired Berry into his law firm as an of counsel attorney.

In response to questions about Berry’s past conflicts with the review board, an agency spokesperson said the “CIA does not comment on details regarding specific prepublication reviews.” The spokesperson added that “the Board is open to authors’ requests to reconsider content they believe is unclassified.”

Eventually, the review board agreed with most of Berry’s appeal and removed most of the redactions from her manuscript.

By then, she had already resigned from agency, frustrated with the fight and her experiences in Iraq. She was married and a new mother. Though she had won the right to publish her account, she no longer wanted her own story — and the trauma and personal doubt she had put in writing — out there.

Write what you know

Despite her clash with agency, piling the mixed feelings about her time as a spy into a memoir reminded Berry how much she enjoyed writing. As she launched herself into a new career as an attorney and later followed her husband to Bahrain in 2012, Berry kept at it. Now it was fiction, but Berry found all her sentences echoed back to her time in Iraq.

The pages that would eventually become “The Peacock and the Sparrow,” a novel featuring a weary CIA officer caught in the turbines of Middle Eastern political change, include themes mined straight from Berry’s time at the agency. Its first lines plunge a reader into the morally ambiguous head space Berry learned in her training. “It was the ability to please that you learned as a spy: smoking a cigarette, offering compliments you didn’t mean, falling down drunk from having accepted too many vodkas,” Berry writes.

The novel’s CIA protagonist, Shane Collins, faces the same indifference from higher-ups that Berry said she saw in Iraq. She funneled the same problematic behavior she witnessed — the drinking, the war-zone infidelities — into her main character. The gnawing doubts about the guilt of the bombing suspect also popped up as a plot point.

Perhaps the most surprising element in her new work as a novelist was how easy it was to submit the manuscript to the review board. They demanded no significant redactions.

“Time had passed, and I had built up a good relationship with the board,” Berry said.

Berry’s debut novel, “The Peacock and the Sparrow,” was released by Atria Books in May 2023 under the pen name I.S. Berry. The book was feted by both the New Yorker and NPR on their annual lists of the best books of the year. This month, the novel also won the Mystery Writers of America’s Edgar Allan Poe Award for best first novel by an American novelist, a significant industry award whose past recipients include Viet Thanh Nguyen and Tana French.

Even with that acclaim, Berry was still surprised when the CIA invited her to speak with Invisible Ink, a group of agency employees who are also writers.

“I was not exactly a poster child for the place,” Berry said. “But they assured me they valued authenticity over filtered plaudits, which were words I never thought I’d hear.”

Last September, Berry was sitting in her car in the ocean of parking spaces sprawling outside CIA headquarters in Langley, Va. Even with her invitation, she felt “nervous as hell,” she said. “I did feel like it was a family reunion where I was estranged from my family.”

But Berry then met her agency contact, a member of Invisible Ink, who had asked her to come and speak. She was taken into a conference room where she spoke to about a dozen current agency staff members to discuss writing, publishing and working with the agency’s review board.

As she was leaving, Berry was asked to film a video about the career paths of officers after the agency. She agreed.

“This was such a formative part of my life,” she said. “They are people who have had that same singular experience as me.” Going back to the CIA, Berry said, “felt like I had rebuilt this broken bridge.”

In the meantime, she’s working away on a new novel. It’s another spy tale.

A previous version of this article incorrectly stated that Berry visited Invisible Ink last February. It was last September. The article has been corrected.