Showing posts with label psychological fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label psychological fiction. Show all posts

Friday, November 17, 2023

Short Book Reviews: Louisa Morgan's Powerful Take on Ghosts, Abuse, and Friendship

Louisa Morgan is a writer of astonishing depth and power. Now she brings her superb talents to a modern tale of abuse, friendship, and hope.

Clinical psychologist Beatrice Bird has always had a touch of “second sight,” a benign and occasionally useful talent for lucky guesses. An impulsive experiment with psychedelics during the Haight-Ashbury era transforms her intuitive gift. Now she sees ghostly figures attached to living people, embodiments of abuse, terror, and guilt. As the years pass, these manifestations become increasingly difficult to endure. She flees to a remote island community, where her only social contacts are a few nuns and a pair of opinionated cows. Just as she settles in to a life of isolation, her life collides with that of another refugee. Timid Anne Iredale is clearly on the run, willing to go to any lengths to hide her identity as the wife of a powerful judge. Beatrice’s gift, however, reveals the most horrific phantoms yet: a mewling child clinging to Anne and a specter of unalloyed evil looming over them both. Soon the two are thrown together on a journey of courage, healing, and redemption.

Morgan tackles complex and difficult issues with compassion, intelligence, and page-turning drama. The story unfolds like a spiral, circling through two very different lives, past and present, peeling away layers of illusion and façade until they are woven together in a triumphant, deeply moving unity. Clear your schedule before opening this book, because once you start reading, you won’t want to put it down!

Friday, May 13, 2022

Superb Middle Grade Fiction Featuring Queer Kids


Nicole Melleby writes Middle Grade fiction featuring exclusively queer kids who also happen to struggle with mental illness. They're really, really good books, too. Books I wish every family of a troubled adolescent, queer or not, would sit down and read together.

How To Become a Planet features a youngster, creatively named Pluto, who struggles with depression. I reviewed it here.

How to Become a Planet focuses on Pluto as a sympathetic character, a person who is both resourceful and overwhelmed, insightful and confused by changes in herself. Her use of astronomy metaphors is particularly vivid and powerful. Above all, Pluto is a person whose brain chemistry isn’t working quite right, not a diagnosis, and this excellent novel showcases her journey toward a new balance in her life.

Here's what the author said about this character in a recent interview:

Q: How did you balance depicting the reality of living with mental illness with the important message of hope?

A: Getting a diagnosis isn’t the end for Pluto—it’s a new beginning. I wanted to show that despite it feeling so hard, there is always hope. In the end, Pluto still has depression, she still has her struggles, but she has her support system and the understanding of her needs, and she’ll be okay. 

I think this is spot on for adults as well as kids. Turning your life around takes not only appropriate treatment (including, in Pluto's case, medication as well as psychotherapy) but time and patience. Backsliding and reversals are par for the course, no matter how skillful the professional help and supportive the loving families are. There's no magic wand to make psychiatric problems disappear, although popular media often portray it so. One insightful conversation and poof! you're cured. This is one of many reasons why books like Melleby's are so important. There is hope, she says, so hang in there.

In Melleby's new novel, The Science of Being Angry, young Joey can't understand why she explodes into destructive fury. Like Pluto, she has a family that loves her and struggles to understand her, yet it isn't enough. 

In my review of this book, I wrote: 

What I most loved about this book was the respect with which Joey and her problems were portrayed. Joey is in many ways still a child, and for all her competence in many areas, she has a child’s limited resources for dealing with psychological issues that confound many adults. Her sense of responsibility often leads her to shoulder disproportionate blame, to withdraw rather than harm someone she loves, and to keep her pain to herself. She confronts an issue all of us face, regardless of how old we are: when do we ask for help, and when do we rely upon our own resources? In the end, Joey realizes that she cannot master her temper by herself, and—more importantly—that there is kindness, understanding, and help available to her.

Melleby doesn't condescend or simply. Her characters grapple with complex, often ambivalent emotions. Yet her faith in the resourcefulness of troubled young people, when given appropriate care, shines through. She reminds us,

There’s no one answer, there’s no one story for someone struggling with mental illness. 

If this means there are many more Melleby MG novels to come, that's an excellent thing! 

Tuesday, May 10, 2022

Book Reviews: A Respectful Treatment of Adolescent Anger Issues


The Science of Being Angry
, by Nicole Melleby (Algonquin Young Readers)

Eleven-year-old Joey lives in an unusual blended family. For one thing, she and her two twin brothers have two moms, one of whom was married before and has a son from that marriage. She and her brothers were the result of IVF, and the boys are identical, having split from the same egg. For all the nontraditional nature of this family, there’s a lot of love and acceptance. But all is not well with Joey. She’s been having increasingly volatile episodes of anger and acting-out. Her temper has become legendary at school, where she’s been given the nickname, “Bruiser,” after she threw a soccer ball at a boy in gym class so hard she bruised his collarbone. She’s roughly pushed away her best friend, on whom she also has a crush. Now she’s left with the fallout wreckage of what she’s done.

Despite the efforts of her moms to help her, Joey’s outbursts are only getting worse. Finally, she melts down into a tantrum so destructive, her family is evicted from their apartment and must move into a motel, where close quarters fuel everyone’s irritation. Her moms start bickering, and Joey thinks that’s her fault. Her older brother, who is trying to focus on his academics, goes to live with his father, and of course, Joey blames herself for that, too.

Joey can’t understand why she flies into a rage or how to control it. All her best intentions are in vain. Then she gets the idea that perhaps her temper is a genetic trait inherited from her biological father. If she can just track him down, she thinks, she might better understand her own volatility—and he might have found successful strategies for managing his anger. With the help of her alienated best friend/crush, she embarks on a genetics project for science class. And, of course, nothing goes the way Joey expects.

In many ways, Joey is a typical adolescent, struggling with the tensions between immaturity and independence. In others, though, she is very much her own person with a unique family. I loved the way the unusual marriage and relationships are presented in a matter-of-fact way. Joey’s anger is clearly not caused by her having two lesbian mothers. Indeed, the clear love and understanding between her mothers, the way each of them has found her way to an authentic life, are one of Joey’s principal strengths. I also noted very little along the lines of, “girls don’t have anger management issues,” when in fact psychological research shows that girls experience anger as frequently as boys do (but are socialized to suppress it).

What I most loved about this book was the respect with which Joey and her problems were portrayed. Joey is in many ways still a child, and for all her competence in many areas, she has a child’s limited resources for dealing with psychological issues that confound many adults. Her sense of responsibility often leads her to shoulder disproportionate blame, to withdraw rather than harm someone she loves, and to keep her pain to herself. She confronts an issue all of us face, regardless of how old we are: when do we ask for help, and when do we rely upon our own resources? In the end, Joey realizes that she cannot master her temper by herself, and—more importantly—that there is kindness, understanding, and help available to her.

Highly recommended for adults as well as their adolescent children.

Friday, July 5, 2019

Short Book Reviews: Imprisoned in Darkness


Her Silhouette, Drawn in Water, by Vylar Kaftan (Tor)

This lovely novella reminds me of water-colors, painted with a deft touch, often evoked rather than explicitly depicted as layers of illusion are dispelled. The story opens with Bee, incarcerated in a series of caverns with only one companion, her lover, Chela. Although her crime was blowing up a space ship, she has no memory of it. Food and other supplies are delivered, but the two of them never encounter another human being. Gradually, though, Bee realizes she has telepathic powers that are nullified by a chip in her brain, supposedly related to her crime. The more she tries to reach out with her mind, the more agonizing the consequences, and the more frantic Chela becomes to maintain their status quo, to not challenge their imprisonment, and to keep Bee emotionally entangled with her.

Slowly Bee peels away the layers of illusion, and I won’t reveal what comes to light, as “the pleasure is in the journey.” Suffice it to say that I kept turning the pages, pausing to savor the nuanced, exquisitely crafted prose. Her Silhouette, Drawn in Water showcases Kaftan as an author of immense skill and sensitivity. The end suggest that Bee’s story will continue, and I for one will be looking forward to it!

I would not be surprised if this book was an award contender.