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Twenty miles south of the Arizona-Mexico border, the rugged, beautiful Sierra Madre mountains begin their dramatic
ascent. Almost 900 miles long, the range climbs to nearly 11,000 feet and boasts several canyons deeper than the Grand
Canyon. The rules of law and society have never taken hold in the Sierra Madre, which is home to bandits, drug
smugglers, Mormons, cave-dwelling Tarahumara Indians, opium farmers, cowboys, and other assorted outcasts. Outsiders are
not welcome; drugs are the primary source of income; murder is all but a regional pastime. The Mexican army occasionally
goes in to burn marijuana and opium crops -- the modern treasure of the Sierra Madre -- but otherwise the government
stays away. In its stead are the drug lords, who have made it one of the biggest drug-producing areas in the world.
Fifteen years ago, journalist Richard Grant developed what he calls "an unfortunate fascination" with this lawless
place. Locals warned that he would meet his death there, but he didn't believe them -- until his last trip. During his
travels Grant visited a folk healer for his insomnia and was prescribed rattlesnake pills, attended bizarre religious
rituals, consorted with cocaine-snorting policemen, taught English to Guarijio Indians, and dug for buried treasure. On
his last visit, his reckless adventure spiraled into his own personal heart of darkness when cocaine-fueled Mexican
hillbillies hunted him through the woods all night, bent on killing him for sport.
With gorgeous detail, fascinating insight, and an undercurrent of dark humor, God's Middle Finger brings to vivid life
a truly unique and uncharted world.