By Carly Smith
Content warning: substance use, child abuse
Pain Killer, by former NHL player Brantt Myhres, guides readers through Myhres’s time before, during, and after his stint in the National Hockey League. Myhres, who played with the NHL in the 1990s and 2000s, recounts stories about his personal and professional lives while simultaneously exposing his audience to goings-on that are not adequately discussed in the hockey world, like substance use and turning a blind eye to inappropriate behaviour. The memoir is separated into four parts and includes a foreword by Michael Landsberg. In Part I, Myhres shares stories about his early childhood and broken home life. He also eases readers into his role as a fighter on the ice. In Part II, he starts to open up about his wild side—partying, strippers, an unhealthy romantic relationship, and alcohol and drug consumption. Part III sheds light on more substance abuse, his release from the NHL, a stretch of time playing overseas, and the events leading up to his most successful stay in rehab. In Part IV, we are introduced to a new Brantt, a man committed to sobriety and self-reflection, a man yearning to become a good father and a good person. A man who, if placed side by side with a version of himself 15 years his junior, we likely would not recognize. The book also includes an index, which is a handy tool to have because the book includes many names and covers an expansive period of time. I found myself referring to the index frequently.
This book is not written like other memoirs I have read. Myhres doesn’t strive to have perfect grammar, or to be the most eloquent author, and it works for the material he writes about. The book reads like you are sitting across from him at a restaurant shooting the breeze. The writing is informal and the tone fairly nonchalant. I particularly enjoyed his style of storytelling because it helped me empathize with his circumstances, and it also helped me better relate to the troubles he touches on throughout the book. Readers should not expect an overly articulate, perfectly refined tale, but instead an unpretentious, straightforward account of his highs and lows.
Pain Killer describes itself as “a memoir of big league addiction,” which is ambiguous and clever. Before reading the book, I interpreted this subtitle as being a reference to substance abuse in the NHL. After reading, however, I imagine that Myhres may be insinuating that making it to the NHL, and living the lifestyle associated with it, is addicting. This book is captivating to say the least; it’s a raw, uncensored story that tugged on all my emotions. From belly laughter to tears, from exasperated sighs to hopeful gasps, I experienced a whirlwind of feelings. This book isn’t just for hockey fans. It’s for anyone who has wanted to achieve an unlikely goal, for those who have failed at achieving a lifelong goal, for people who want to leave a life of addiction or already have, or for loved ones of people who have been affected by addiction. The honesty, humility, and lack of sugar-coating make Pain Killer the pager-turner that it is.