Kate Kellaway 

Sorted for words and pics

Two New Zealanders have come up with the perfect way for teenagers and their parents to find out about drugs.
  
  


I've had this book lying around the house - it's only just been published in England. It's by Tom Scott and Trevor Grice and is called The Great Brain Robbery: What Everyone Should Know About Teenagers and Drugs. It has an illustration on the cover of a guy with a huge yellow brain in a wheelbarrow - he looks as though he is heading for the hills with it.

The book is fantastic. Both of the authors are from New Zealand. One is a cartoonist, journalist and documentary film-maker. The other is the director of the Life Education Trust and apparently "in constant demand as a drug counsellor", which comes as no surprise - they are a brilliant duo.

The book is shockingly informative, witty (wheelbarrow aside) and not at all patronising. I guess that must be the hardest thing to do with a book like this: to get the tone right. "People take mood-altering chemicals because they enjoy altering their moods. But ... for every high there is a low; for every trip, a return journey ... " There are also lots of case histories and personal testimony.

I picked it up with low expectations, just thinking I would try to educate myself better - my eldest son is a teenager and my three younger sons are getting there fast. I flinched my way through the chapter on alcohol (at least I was reading over a mug of weak Earl Grey ... although there is a caffeine chapter too) and as I read on, I was more and more impressed.

A quote from Henry Youngman pasted across the top of the alcohol chapter sums up the difficulty with drug education and underlines Scott and Grice's achievement: "When I read about the evils of drinking, I gave up reading." We don't want to know the bad news about what we might be doing to our brains. We'd much rather stop reading.

My fifteen-year-old son was suspicious when saw the book on the kitchen sideboard - he wanted to know whether I had left it out in the hope that he would look at it. I said that I did want him to look at it, but also that I had been reading it avidly myself. To my surprise, he took it away. All he's said about it since is one word: "scary". He hasn't given it back. If you're a parent, then you probably know that you can't rely on a teenager reading a book like this - or even agreeing to glance at it - but that is no excuse for not trying.

 

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