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Special to the Star Tribune
In the late 1980s, during the first phase of the self-destructive drinking years recounted in this debut memoir, Colin Broderick was in the habit of leaving a raucous bar in the Bronx, jumping into a gypsy cab and taking a drive on the even wilder side. As a writer, he's a bit like the driver of one of those illegal taxis, taking you at high speed to some very dark places.
An actuary reading "Orangutan" (Three Rivers Press, 341 pages, $14) might well have a statistically inspired heart attack. It's a midsized miracle that Broderick is alive to tell his tale, and he knows it. He has survived a visit to a South Bronx "drug fort," physical attacks,...