Ah, well, Howard Marks, in the years between his ealry autobigraphical venture Mr. Nice and this one, has learnt how to write. Interspersed with all nthe impeccably researched and excavated pieces on various sorts of drug (ab?)use are pieces by Marks himself, and he's done a good job.
It was pretty damn depressing! I didn't really see a point to the story, but it certainly kept me engaged. I kept wanting to read just to find out if there was a point.