After all the genre whodunits, thinly disguised bios and fantastical adventures passing as Hawaiian literature these days, "Tweakerville" is a shot of the real thing — a tough, uncompromisingly realistic novel with a unique voice. Although you might not like it, it’s certainly worthy of argument, probably a passionate argument.

The story arc isn’t pretty. Jesse Gomes, 17, has been cast loose in a nightmare world of pimps, pushers and users, and like a nightmare, it all seems perfectly reasonable once you’re in it. Jesse, a charmingly dimpled young fellow, winds up involved in drugs, murder and various sociopathies, as well as a few glimmering chances at unreachable redemption, and it all comes home to roost.

Author Alexei Melnick has told Gomes’ story in an invented vernacular that combines pidgin and spoken English, and he pretty much sticks to it throughout, "Clockwork Orange" style. It’s an affect, and the effect is that of a creative-writing assignment gone thrombo.

This deliberate, crafty style either works, or it doesn’t. It’s like learning semaphore; after a while you’re proficient and don’t notice the flags, just the message.

Melnick is more subtle with metaphor and foreshadowing; he’s particularly good with clothing as character. Jesse’s world is night-lit, a Hawaii of subsidized housing, jungle meth labs, all-night convenience stores, jacked-up cars and criminals with their own twisted, albeit rigid, codes of conduct. There’s not a palm tree or a hula girl in sight. Hawaii represents hope to much of the world; in "Tweakerville" everyone is pretty much doomed.

If you’ve seen the critically acclaimed AMC series "Breaking Bad," the substance of the book is about what you’d expect. Once we had Wild West thrillers in American literature to create a landscape where people operate beyond the rules of civilization. Today the wildness of the far frontier is internalized in the drug novel and, by clever extension, the vampire novel. Drug culture is the ultimate unregulated free market, guided by the invisible hand of desire and supply.

Jesse’s journey is all the more horrific for its bleakness. There are few paths for this young man to take, and he manages to always take a wrong turn. Authority in this world consists of pushing, not direction.

It’s doesn’t end well, but then, that’s sort of the point. Drug use has no light at the end of the tunnel. It’s a deep well into which you fall and fall.

I’m not sure there will be a wide market for "Tweakerville," which is essentially a horror story that hits too close to reality. Those who read it, however, won’t soon forget it.

AN EXCERPT

"Tweakerville — Life and death in Hawaii’s ice world"

THE SET-UP: The narrator, Jesse Gomes, 17, has been kicked out of his family home. He is living in a drug house, learning the ways of the world from Robby, a big-time cocaine and ice dealer. After a night of heavy partying and handing off crack to customers on the street, Jesse crashes on the sofa.

I went out my room to the living room couch where dis one haole girl was taking up all the real estate, out of it, still in her vampire costume. She had white make up on her white skin but black around the eyes. Her fake vampire teeth had fallen on the floor. By her black wig. She had one of dose spike neck lace leashes around her neck with a chain hanging down, like goth chicks wear even when it isn’t Halloween.

Time for dis chick re locate. I dragged her all the way down to the other side the couch. People that live here get first dibs. I did one belly flop on to the pillows and that was it, lights out, I fell asleep on my arms. I could still feel the girl’s curly red hair on my feet but I never care.

After little while I heard all kine commotions around me. Dingo yelling out, "Mikey!"

I heard Mikey’s heavy feet on the wood floor and Robby turning off the faucet in the tub, telling every body, "Shh … quiet."

I never open my eyes but I heard couple words here or there.

Load. OD. Drool.

The blackness took over again. I was so tired it hurt.

Then Dingo was shaking me all around. "Jesse, wake up."

I sat up and then I seen her face, the haole girl.

"She’s still alive, Jesse!" said Dingo. "Tell um, bra, tell um she’s still alive. See, look — you seen that, Jess, she was moving!"

"Mikey know what he talking about, Dingo," said Killas.

The girl’s eyes wasn’t moving and her make up was all smeared, her eye liners like dat. She had drool all over her face too. But yah, I seen her arm move. It was more like one jolt but, one spasm.

I was so tired I never care if the girl was dead. I’m sorry for tell you dat, but I never knew her, none of us did. She just popped up outa no where. If she had any friends, they left her there.

Mikey went in to her bag and took out all her stuff until he saw the sun glass case. "Right here — look."

He opened the case and took out the burnt blacked out clear pipe and handed it to Robby. About five inches long with the round part at the end. Crusted glass burnt almost half way up the mouth.

"Poor chick," said Robby. "Look how bad she burn um. No body even show her, look all dis dope she wasted."

All up the mouth of the pipe the clear was spilled, dried. Like one rookie smoker wasting all their money.

I laid back down again, trying for get back to sleep. But I could hear Mikey’s voice with all that deep bass. "Dingo, some time the body never like die for a while, even when every thing else dead. Dis girl wen die hours ago already." His voice going even more lower now. "Only one thing for do, is drop her ass off in the dumpster behind da old theaters. Boarded up, no cameras dere."

"She’s alive," said Dingo, still yet.

"She no more pulse," said Mikey.

"I felt her breathing," said Dingo.

"Nah," said Mikey. "We go."

Killas backed the truck right up to the stairs. When we knew the neighbors wasn’t watching, Mikey and Robby took her body in the carpet out the back door, around the side of the house with high bushes, and put her in the truck bed.

Read the first chapter of "Tweakerville — Life and Death in Hawaii’s Ice World" at www.mutualpublishing.com/tweakerville.aspx.