That happens in the Wizard of Oz, at least in the book.When I was a child, my mother cautioned me against going to sleep in a field where poppies grew, as I might never wake up—as if I would—but it might have been a country superstition or even her warning to me about drugs.
Terrible. Looking at photos of my relatives who fought in either/both of the wars, they all look as hard as nails. I wonder how many today could go through what they did. I doubt if I could.he had what was termed shell shock, now called PTSD. He self-medicated with booze, becoming an angry and brooding man, who scared me as a little boy. He told me some horrific tales of fighting in the mud of No Man's Land. He was once trapped overnight in a shell hole with a German soldier he'd stabbed, who took hours to die, pressing photographs of his family on my Granddad asking him to write to them to say how he died.
Ghosh's books are brilliantIt's wise to remember The Opium Wars in which the British Empire denied China's sovereignty, forcing opium on the population as a means of controlling them. This sad saga is brilliantly handled by Amitav Gosh in a trilogy of novels Sea of Poppies, River of Smoke and Flood of Fire.
I included opium addiction in my last Cornish Detective novel. The villain, a homicidal art dealer, who prefers paintings to people is trading in stolen and counterfeit art supplied by a go-between in the Chinese underworld, who smears opium paste between the planks of shipping crates. The art dealer also tries to harvest opium latex from poppies growing in his courtyard. Opium fitted with how my baddy dressed in Victorian clothing, clinging to the racist and sexist attitudes of the days of Empire.
Everyone in my WIP is on opium one way or another. Teething infants, insomniacs, and all. Poor mother's stopped hungry babies crying by dosing them up. It made them lose interest in food, but with often fatal results.