What I was looking for -- a revelatory explanation for alcoholism -- won't come from this book. He is a literature professor out of his depth, but, more imporantly, he seems to be enjoying the stories of literary binges a bit too much. Per a few notes in my updates, some of the stories about Faulkner are hilarious, but then, I've never liked Faulkner's writing and would find it sad if he sacrificed his health for some of the high-flown muck he produced. I am probably thinking of a very long Faulkner story about a writer who encourages a wife's affair with a dying, miserable poet, just for the manuscript it will produce.
Come to think of it, I've never had a strong love of Hemingway or Fitzgerald and don't know the works of O'Neill well enough. I do think it's notable that at least three of these writers have Irish surnames, whether it's a matter of broken Catholicism or history under the yolk. But the line I expected, which I was waiting for, zips past without further comment, namely that Faulkner stated he had a quiet temperament which drink made more interesting.
If anyone's going to explore personal demons of complex writers, it will be the writers themselves, although, admittedly, looking so directly at themselves or the world may just be the problem.