Some books are written by authors. Others are written by people who simply refuse to stay quiet. American Bad Ass, the debut memoir from U.S. Marine Corps veteran Alan P. Privitt, is firmly the second kind.
Now available on Amazon, the book is a blunt, sardonic, unfiltered account of a life lived at full volume. Privitt takes readers from the neighborhoods of Pico Rivera, California, to the Marine Corps, to the rooftops of a career in roofing, and then to years living on the streets of Southern California, which he calls his "social experiment" in human behavior.
He doesn't sound like anyone else
There's no polish and no ghostwritten gloss. Privitt writes the way he talks: direct, funny, and unapologetically opinionated. When he describes a brutal day of breaking down cardboard boxes for recycling, he lands on a line that sums up his whole outlook:
"I may be dumb, but I'm not as dumb as paper."
That mix of grit and dark humor runs through all 18 chapters. Readers will laugh, wince, and keep turning pages.
What's inside
A question that has followed him since childhood.
As a kid in Pico Rivera, Privitt noticed that fields of wild castor bean plants vanished every year at the end of summer, harvested at night, and he has been asking why ever since. In the book, he recounts a 1994 encounter with a Los Angeles County Sheriff's deputy when he tried to report it, and his efforts to get answers from federal agencies. He lays out what he believes, what he suspects, and what he admits he can't prove. He openly invites investigators to look into it themselves.
Life on the streets, told from the inside.
Privitt describes encampments, close calls, and the unwritten rules of survival, from the strip malls of Riverside to the bus stations of Bakersfield. It's an unusually candid look at homelessness and at how the people living it are treated.
Moments he still can't explain.
After a hospital stay following a frightening ordeal, Privitt says he began experiencing what he calls premonitions. One of them, a vision of a street sweeper, a grain truck, and three men, played out in front of him seconds later. Reflecting on that experience, he says:
“I saw fifteen seconds into the future, and I believe it saved my life.”
He tells it exactly as he experienced it and lets readers decide what to make of it.
A Marine's perspective on a failing war.
Drawing on history, from Prohibition and the Volstead Act to the 1971 declaration of the "war on drugs," Privitt argues that decades of enforcement haven't solved the problem. He also questions how prescription opioids reached so many Americans. He offers his own ideas, including drug education that starts early and keeps repeating, instead of a one-year program.
A tribute to first responders
American Bad Ass is dedicated to the nation's first responders: the doctors, nurses, paramedics, firefighters, and law enforcement officers who run toward danger so others don't have to. Privitt credits first responders with saving his life, and the dedication is a heartfelt thank-you.
Why readers will want this book
- It's unlike any other memoir on the shelf. Veteran story, street survival, social commentary, and unanswered mystery all come in one voice.
- It's honest about its own limits. Privitt openly says where he's guessing, where he might be wrong, and where he wants someone else to find the truth.
- It starts conversations. Readers on every side of the drug-policy, homelessness, and law-enforcement debates will find something to argue about.
- It ends with a wink. The closing line, "Watch out for zombies!", will make sense once you've read the book.
American Bad Ass is a work of nonfiction recounted from the author's memory and reflects his personal recollections and perspective.