I've been reminiscing - again - this time about the books which have shaped my ideas about madness and mad people.
I don't mean the serious books I purposely read to learn about it e.g. A sociology of mental health and illness by Anne Rogers and David Pilgrim or Users and Abusers of Psychiatry; A Critical Look at Psychiatric Practice by Lucy Johnstone or Mental Health Matters: A Reader edited by Tom Heller.
Or the many self-help books I've poured over in search of answers. (I particularly like Feel the Fear and Do it Anyway by Susan Jeffers - the title alone is brilliant. I wouldn't be doing this blog or involved with Oor Mad History or CAPS or anything if I didn't recite that mantra a lot.)
I mean the books I primarily read for pleasure, before I was particularly interested in mental health issues, services, theories...
And the books I read when I did get interested, the fiction and autobiography.... the books that moved me, stirred me, comforted me, angered me.
I didn't read The Bell Jar until quite recently and I have never read (or watched) One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. I did try The Bell Jar years ago, but the protagonist annoyed me in the first chapter so I didn't persist.
It's hard to remember after about 20 years of reading, thinking, talking, rereading.
But I thought, if I put this out there, it might stir some distant memories.
And the books I read when I did get interested, the fiction and autobiography.... the books that moved me, stirred me, comforted me, angered me.
I didn't read The Bell Jar until quite recently and I have never read (or watched) One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. I did try The Bell Jar years ago, but the protagonist annoyed me in the first chapter so I didn't persist.
It's hard to remember after about 20 years of reading, thinking, talking, rereading.
But I thought, if I put this out there, it might stir some distant memories.
It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs.
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