Here's the very stuff of human tragedy, a relentless, searing book. First hand story of a down and outer. Brutal. Crude. The raw fabric of a man's experience. A book one loathes, but can't put down, and can't forget. It's the 1935 version of The Wind and the Rain. The city, with all its cruelties, the open road, shorn of make-believe, the freight cars, the sidings, the jungles, the bread lines, the park benches, the missions, the lodgings. All there in stark realistic phrases, drawn from evidently authentic sources.