[In the following review, the critic pans Forced Entries for its lack of substance. While acknowledging the occasional flashes of intense humor and wit, the critic derides Carroll for providing too much debauchery and not enough intellectual or literary content.]

A slice of the debauched life of poet Carroll at the tail end of the 60’s, before he embarked on a second, dual career as a rock singer.

Carroll achieved recognition early in his 20s with the publication of Living at the Movies, his first collection of poetry, and The Basketball Diaries, a record of New York youth steeped in sports, dope, and urban iconography. Here, he picks up the story as he’s living at the Chelsea Hotel in New York, addicted to heroin, and spending nights at Max’s Kansas City consorting with other dubious luminaries of the late-night celebrity scene. Girlfriends come and go; figures the likes of Ginsberg, Warhol, Leary, Morrissey, and Dylan make routine and generally uninteresting appearances; there’s a variety of truly peculiar jobs—including an assignment at Andy Warhol’s Factory and a rare opportunity at managing a porno theater—before Carroll has a chance to cool his heels and detox in California. For readers hellbent on self-destruction, there are a lot of handy tips here—the proper procedure for shooting heroin, the etiquette of hop parties, directions for pharmaceutical mixes that eliminate the necessity of sleep (always an annoyance when trying to keep up with the busy jet set), and a judicious rundown of various bodily diseases.

Carroll’s sense of humor occasionally makes a welcome intrusion into the sleazy grandeur of street scenes and 60’s clichés, and his prose often flashes with genuine intensity and wit; but there’s surprisingly little said here about poetry, poets, or what Carroll might disdainfully refer to as the intellectual or literary. Shame.