psychology

Stuff: Compulsive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things

mandy — Tue, 08 Mar 2011 20:00:00 +0000

I was pleased as soon as I ran my fingers over the pleasantly matte dust jacket of Stuff. My pleasure only grew once I dove in: authors Randy O. Frost and Gail Steketee smoothly meld case study and psychological analysis for an engaging read. Throughout their account, they also include a broad (though never deep) smattering of speculations about the anthropological, neurobiological, and political aspects of hoarding.

The case studies are fascinating and eclectic. The most extreme is a dire, almost sensationalist account of a cat-hoarding cult that sprung up around a psychiatrist in New York City in the 1970s, involving many of the psychiatrist's patients and hundreds of cats. A more pedestrian example is the story of a woman who got into the habit of ordering magazines in stacks of three, so that she could touch only the top and bottom copy, leaving the middle copy pristine.

The authors' analysis is insightful, accessible, and deeply resonant. Drawing on sources as diverse as the writings of Jean-Paul Sartre and the television special Affluenza, Frost and Steketee muse about the nature of self-worth, meaning, and identity in a consumer age. They sensitively acknowledge the profound significance of hoarding to those who practice it—whether it is the woman who believes that she will lose her memory in the absence of physical reminders; the man with ideas for reusing even the most ragged, cast-off item; or the woman whose stacking behavior began as a way to wall off a room in which she was raped. One chapter at a time, the authors piece together a framework for understanding the beliefs and desires that underlie hoarding—difficulty with so-called “executive” functions such as planning and decision-making; an attempt to preserve memories and opportunities; and, perhaps, an advanced capacity for seeing meaning, beauty, detail, and potential in material objects.

Narratives such as Stuff walk a difficult line, acknowledging the very real havoc that psychopathology can wreak on human lives, without casting it as an extra-human phenomenon that renders its bearers worthless, incomprehensible, monstrous, or undeserving of autonomy. Throughout their book, Frost and Steketee try hard to emphasize the humanity of their subjects—so hard, in fact, that they wind up sounding like they are trying to convince themselves. The book radiates an uncomfortable combination of identification and disgust—for example, the authors joke that they notice their colleagues tidying their offices out of the fear that they too will be labeled “hoarders” by the experts.

As another example, consider the following description: “Some theorists have posited that people with hoarding tendencies form attachments to possessions instead of people.... Hoarders...are remote and suspicious. Irene, however, defied this categorization.... She had a quick wit and a well-developed sense of humor. It was easy to see why people liked her.” The authors continue, “It is no coincidence that most of the people described in this book are highly intelligent. Although hoarding is considered a mental disorder, it may stem from an extraordinary ability.” I appreciate the nuance—I would rather explore hoarders' heightened sensitivities than flippantly label them damaged goods. However, this “madness equals genius” move merely reinforces the idea that human lives are only valuable as long as they are “productive” or otherwise gratifying to an external observer. What if Irene had not been personable, or “articulate and insightful,” as she is later described? Would we then be justified if we failed to relate to her, or to see her life as worthwhile?

Like many human traits, hoarding can be extremely debilitating—at times even fatal. And, as the authors point out, perhaps it is also a form of artistry. However, it is essential to tell the story of both the disorder and the gift without sensationalism and without thank-God-it's-them-and-not-me relief. Frost and Steketee strive for this balance, but in the end it eludes them.

Written by: Ri J. Turner, March 8th 2011

Black Swan

mandy — Sat, 08 Jan 2011 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Darren Aronofsky

Fox Searchlight

The hype had me prepared for Black Swan to be a disturbing and gory movie. But the truth of it is this: even if you’re squeamish, like me, there’s nothing in the film you can’t look at… out of context.

Context is the name of the game for director Darren Aronofsky, in this and his previous films. Aronofsky gives viewers rich, often confusing imagery—the back of someone’s head, for instance; a favorite shot he's borrowed from Hitchcock, Van Sant, and others—and then leaves it up to our minds to interpret his meaning. Example: a physical wound means one thing if it’s accidentally caused, another if it’s created by an external person, and still something else if self-inflicted. But if you only see the wound without its frame of reference, it means nothing beyond blood and guts.

Some viewers find this equivocating pretentious and sadistic, while others enjoy the challenge. With Black Swan, Aronofsky has achieved the ultimate cinematic ambiguity: his film will have us talking about it for years, trying to make heads or tails of what’s really going on with Nina the ballerina (Natalie Portman).

The trailer gives us the narrative framework (no spoilers ahead): Nina is a dedicated dancer who assumes the lead role in Swan Lake, only to end up in torment as she tries to shed her virginal white swan persona in favor of the darker, sensual black swan. Are her demons real or imagined? Can she play both parts, good and evil? Will she dance herself to death, or find fame and glory? Black Swan is a thriller racing to answer these questions. But saying it’s a movie about Swan Lake, or even about ballet in general, is like saying that Swan Lake is about birds.

When the curtain came down, so to speak, I wasn’t disturbed or scared. Instead, I felt mildly exhilarated and happy to go home to a foot massage from my husband. Later that night, however, I tossed and turned to terrifying dreams. I saw Nina’s mother’s icy stare. I dreamed of broken, twisted limbs and skin tearing from my body. The next morning, I received an email from a girlfriend with whom I’d seen the film: she claimed to be having “out of body sensations." What happened to us? How could we have endured viewing the film itself with no terror, only to wind up feeling dizzy and insecure later on? But that’s probably the point, right?

Black Swan transcends its obvious message of self-sacrifice for the sake of art and makes a wider statement about sexuality: it points out that women are intraculturally conditioned to sacrifice their own pleasure in favor of male gratification. We encourage and adopt a meme of female frigidity, forcing young girls to think of their virginity as something fragile, even breakable. We set up an expectation in young women that virginity and subsequent self-sacrifice can result in the “perfect” first time. (That’s according to me. You want a different conclusion? Ask a different critic.)

A review by Danusha Goska on the Internet Movie Database suggests Black Swan “tells us that women are fragile and neurotic and if they do anything remarkable it makes them crazy.” I went looking for this kind of reaction, and I liked finding that viewers are recognizing misogyny in the film. But to say that the filmmakers are sexists is inaccurate; in actuality, they’re pointing to existing rigid demands for women to model ourselves after feminine archetypes. True, Portman and costar Mila Kunis did reportedly lose an enormous amount of weight for their roles as skinny, somewhat masochistic dancers (about 20 lbs. each off already tiny bodies). But the question is: why are ballet dancers skinny, not why are actresses who play ballet dancers skinny?

One of the reasons I braved the supposed gore was because I wanted to gawk at pin thin bodies on screen. Instead of assuming an air of superiority to this trend, however, I found myself envying their ability to achieve a desired aesthetic. (Talk about social and cultural memes: women are supposed to be frigid and skinny, it would seem. And even this feminist, with all of her bravado, can’t get rid of a desire to be outwardly beautiful and adored.)

Okay, now comes the part when I tell you whether or not I recommend the film. I do. Black Swan is beautiful to look at and, at times, campy fun, but only fun for those who don’t mind a few days of psychological indigestion for which there may be no effective antacid.

Written by: Rachel Moehl, January 8th 2011

Change of Heart: What Psychology Can Teach Us About Spreading Social Change

beth — Fri, 24 Dec 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Nick Cooney

Latern Books

At times, the mind can be one's own worst enemy. When our ego feels threatened, it is wired to convince us of almost anything. And when certain unpleasant emotions arise at passing a homeless man on the way to work or seeing African children on TV with flies on their faces, we are accustomed to look away. How do certain people and organizations persuade us and our ego to donate time and money to their cause, while others don't seem to reach us enough? And what differentiates the two?

In Change of Heart, Nick Cooney explains the intricate psychology of the human mind and how activists can successfully manoeuvre their way through it. The author provides a complete compilation of key negotiating strategies, with numerous examples to reveal many forms of activism.

Fascinating and detailed, this book is designed for the hardcore activist who is looking to bring change to his/her cause, whatever their goals may be: boosting donations, recruiting volunteers, creating pamphlets, or simply creating awareness. The author spends very little time on personal anecdotes and instead goes straight to the facts of being effective in whatever your line of activism is. I enjoyed learning about real organizations and the strategies they used to convince more participants to join their cause, with examples that were interesting and professional. Nick Cooney encourages creativity and persistence when looking to initiate real changes in others lives.

The author really puts the reader in the shoes of an activist and I found that the text itself was a form of activism since the book takes the opportunity to educate the reader about animal rights, environmentalism, and poverty.

Change of Heart brings a new approach to activism with a new comprehension of the human mind. For activism, opening up the mind is just as important as opening up the heart.

Written by: Cinthia Pacheco, December 23rd 2010

Enough!: A Buddhist Approach to Finding Release from Addictive Patterns

beth — Fri, 15 Oct 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Chönyi Taylor

Snow Lions Publications

Ordained by the Dalai Lama in 1995, Chönyi Taylor is a retired psychotherapist who fuses Buddhist teachings with western psychology to assist psychotherapists and health care professionals in helping individuals to break the pattern of addiction. In Enough!: A Buddhist Approach to Finding Release from Addictive Patterns, Taylor states in her acknowledgments that the most insidious addiction is not related to drugs, but to our own self-pity and smallmindedness. In her words, addiction is primarily a state of mind, the result of an initial personal decision that is repeated until it becomes habit-forming or compulsive. The problem is not the availability of alcohol, drugs, sex, or food (pick yer poison), but our initial and subsequent choices to use these things for short-term pleasure.

Because addiction begins in the mind, this is where the addictive pattern has to be broken. The process is slow and involves, first and foremost, recognizing the existence of a problem and finding the motivation to change. The next step is to become mindful of what we are running away from or the things, people, places, and emotions that trigger our addictive pattern. This is how we uncover the causes and effects of our addiction. Being addiction-free also involves breaking the hold of selfishness, as it only enables addiction. The self-centered mind exaggerates impending disasters if our addictive need cannot be met. Dramatics and catastrophic-thinking need to be undone by equanimity or even-mindedness. The three basic steps towards breaking the pattern are mindfulness, introspection, and equanimity. Repeated practice through meditation of these three elements should make them pattern forming.

Taylor gives the basics on how to meditate and ends each chapter with a meditation. In Enough!, we learn that we are all addicted to something. Even if our addiction is only to negative thinking, it still unintentionally undermines our potential for satisfying happiness. Although I found mindfulness and introspection relatively easy to grasp, I had a hard time getting my head around equanimity or curbing the exaggerated thinking and emotion-fueled jumping to conclusions. But I guess I’m not alone, as the book has four meditations on that alone: equanimity towards our feelings, environment, people, and ourselves. There is also an inspiring chapter on managing pain, making choices, and building self-confidence.

This book is meant to be read slowly, and the meditations duly practiced, preferably with an experienced group leader to reap maximum benefit. I also recommend that you not read more than one chapter at a time or choose a chair with a very straight back, as the abundance of abstract nouns makes this book highly soporific. Although I didn’t find the real-life cases that Taylor chose to be very helpful, I found her approach to addiction extremely positive and highly enlightening.

Written by: Heather Leighton, October 14th 2010

Love Your Body, Love Your Life: 5 Steps to End Negative Body Obsession and Start Living Happily and Confidently

admin — Mon, 15 Feb 2010 09:01:00 +0000

By Sarah Maria

Adams Media

I have not had a good relationship with my body over the years. I was underweight during adolescence and early adulthood, then freaked out when I started to gain weight during my senior year of college. I also could not understand why my friends were telling me I looked fine when I felt I was overweight. After reading Sarah Maria's book, Love Your Body, Love Your Life: 5 Steps to End Negative Body Obsession and Start Living Happily and Confidently, I realize I had been living with Negative Body Obsession (NBO). According to Maria, “NBO is a condition marked by a near-constant critical rumination on one's appearance.”

Maria does an excellent job with this self-help book, taking the reader through all the steps to help her realize how she is viewing her body, and what she can do to stop NBO from taking over her life. The book follows a five step program: the first step is to step up a powerful intention, where the reader identifies what she wants regarding her body and food. The second step is for the reader to identify her negative thoughts and replacing them with positive body thoughts; instead of thinking “I am so fat,” the negative body reaction is changed to “I am inherently beautiful.” The third step involves finding the true person on the inside. The fourth step has the reader befriending her body through meditation, laughter, music, and other “healing” methods. This culminates in the fifth step where the reader lives for a purpose by focusing on the things she is good at , setting goals, and helping other people. Maria goes into great detail with each of the steps, with exercises and inspirational stories.

The tone of the entire book is uplifting, and Maria writes in a warm, inviting tone that helps the reader in this self-help journey. What was appealing to me was Maria's reference to different scientific research, such as psychology and physics : if she was referring to a particular method, such as how intentions can change an outlook on life, she backed everything up with multiple studies. All of the studies she refers to are listed in the resource section.

The steps that Maria uses to help readers to overcome body issues are helpful for other problems. I found myself tackling abuse issues from my past, which were also tied into some of the issues with my body. Love Your Body, Love Your Life definitely puts a new perspective on body image, and can be a helpful tool for anyone who has been struggling with self-image, food, and weight.

Written by: Elizabeth Stannard Gromisch, February 15th 2010

Freudian Mythologies: Greek Tragedies and Modern Identities

admin — Sun, 17 Jan 2010 01:00:00 +0000

By Rachel Bowlby

Oxford University Press

In college, I heard a joke that summed up Freudian theory to a tee: A Freudian slip is when you say one thing and mean your mother. This joke, referencing a Freudian theory that an unconscious thought may reveal itself as a verbal manifestation, sums up the popular idea of psychoanalysis, the branch of psychology Freud created. Popular culture often ceases at what Freud wrote in the nineteenth century, ignoring all of psychology before and after. Freud’s theories captured the popular imagination and have not given up their grip for 100 years. After all, how familiar are you with B.F. Skinner’s work?

Freud’s existence in popular culture has led to the application of his Interpretation of Dreams in numerous contexts, including looking back at the Greek Tragedies. Freud himself gave birth to the Oedipus complex to explain the male child’s gender identification as they grow up. The hypothesis has been simplified into the idea that a little boy wants to kill his father and marry his mother, which is a very simplistic reading of both the theory and the myth.

I bring this up to explain Freudian Mythologies. It is very telling that Bowlby is an English Professor, not a psychologist or a classicist. This book is in the unenviable position of being too complex for the average reader and not complex enough for even college students. Her reading of Freudian mythology and of the ancient tragedies is correct, but she adds nothing new to any of the criticisms. A further explanation of the Oedipus myth through a Freudian lens is not necessary; Freud explained it himself. A reading of the Danaeds is more interesting, but is ultimately concluded with the statement that Freud didn’t understand women. One must have read extensively into the Freudian catalogue, to point that they must be on a first name basis with Anna O. They also must be aware of the stories of Ion, the Danaeds and both versions of Oedipus. At the same time, they must not understand basic Freudian attachment.

After a while, the tragedies themselves become secondary to Bowlby’s attempts to explain Freudian theory. The more interesting story, one touched upon at the beginning of the book, is how Freud chose which version of which myth. Why did he omit the earlier version of Oedipus, where his birth father molests and kills a little boy, bringing on the curse Oedipus ultimately fulfills? Why did he not address Apollo as Ion’s father? This is an area where something new could be uncovered. Simply using Freudian mythology to describe Greek tragedy adds nothing; after all, Freud did it himself.

If you are comfortable but not overly familiar with Freud’s theories or the Greek tragedies, Freudian Mythologies might interest you. However, if you are acquainted with either, this book won’t hold your interest.

Written by: Taylor Rhodes, January 16th 2010

The White Mary

admin — Mon, 07 Dec 2009 17:01:00 +0000

By Kira Salak

Picador

Marika Vicera is a war reporter who has dedicated herself to telling the stories of oppressed peoples around the world. She is giving a talk at Boston University when she meets a psychology doctoral student named Sebastian Gilman. Seb, as he is known, is in awe of Marika's war reports, which have landed frequently on the covers of major newspapers. Although Marika doesn't think much of the practice of psychology, she is taken with Seb. Marika takes a break from her globe trotting to write a biography of famous journalist Robert Lewis, who recently committed suicide. At the same time, she begins dating Seb, and, eventually, she moves in with him.

Soon, the memories of her near death in the Congo begin to haunt her. She feels the easy life she has in Cambridge is meaningless, and she begins to push Seb away. She refuses to let Seb use any of his psychology skills to help her. When she learns that Robert Lewis may be alive in Papua New Guinea, she uses that as an excuse to run from Seb and the intimacy that is so uncomfortable to her.

Marika has admired Lewis all of her life, and now she is driven to find out what really happened to him. She ends up alone in the “heat and humidity of New Guinea...covered in sweat, her clothes entirely soaked. She accidentally left the top of her tent unzipped, and engorged red mosquito bites cover her body like a series of reprimands: do not underestimate this world.”

There have been a couple of sightings of someone who resembles Lewis near Walwasi Mountain, a distant region. Marika hires a guide, who abandons her before they reach their destination. She recruits Tobo, a medicine man in the village where she is abandoned. He reluctantly agrees to take her, as he sees it as a spiritual obligation. The trip to Walwasi Mountain is harrowing: by the time they reach the village, Marika is near death. She is completely dependent on Tobo, who relies on magic and herbs to keep her alive.

Salak's descriptions of Papua New Guinea are vivid and brutal. The fact that Salak herself actually did walk across the country as a reporter lends credence to the world she creates on the page. Salak describes Krit, a village they pass on the way to Walwasi Mountain that seems to have been cursed, and unflinchingly: “Marika sees a little girl with a distended belly relieving herself under one of the huts. Flies buzz over piles of feces scattered about the village, and a fetid stench wafts to her on the breeze.”

The White Mary is indeed a page turner, though at times the back story about Seb and even Robert Lewis seems to interrupt the Papua New Guinea narrative. The connection between the Marika of Papua New Guinea and the Marika back in the States was tenuous and might have been more carefully interwoven. Salak's examination of Seb's insights into psychology in relation to Marika's own psychological makeup could be a bit less heavy handed as well.

But Marika's journey, in the end, goes beyond a search for Robert Lewis. It becomes a search for her own soul, and her own sense of what really matters in life. Ultimately, Salak has crafted a rousing and ultimately satisfying adventure.

Written by: Natasha Bauman, December 7th 2009

Boy Interrupted

admin — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 17:59:00 +0000

Directed by Dana Perry

HBO Documentary Films

When I was fifteen years old, I tried to commit suicide by overdosing on sleeping pills. I had been taking an experimental prescription acne medication called Accutane, which caused my hormonal ups and downs to feel a thousand times more severe than they really were. In May of 2001, I downed thirty-two pills in my school's bathroom and, following medical treatment, was sent to a juvenile mental institution for a short period of time. Miraculously, the cloudiness I felt in every aspect of my life was eliminated once I realized I had hit rock bottom. I’ll never forget the experience of riding in the back of the ambulance, looking through the window, and for some ungodly reason, feeling okay for the first time in nearly a year. I laughed and cried happy tears as they put the IV needle into my arm and spoon fed me charcoal. The numbness went away and I wanted to live.

That was eight years ago and, thankfully, I’ve never felt that desperate since. But that doesn’t mean suicide hasn’t entered my mind on occasion. I don’t know if this is true for everyone, but once you’ve tried to end your own life, the idea of death isn’t as scary as it once was. It’s kind of like having an extra piece of weaponry at your disposal.

Evan Perry, the subject of Boy Interrupted, seems to have felt similarly. When he was also fifteen years old, Evan committed suicide by jumping from his bedroom in New York City. From a very early age, Evan was practically entranced by the idea of death and taking his own life. He was put on Prozac when he was five and spent a great deal of his young life in a psychologist’s office. Evan attempted suicide for the first time when he was in elementary school.

This gripping documentary was created by Evan’s parents, Dana and Hart Perry, who are professional filmmakers. They painstakingly trace their son’s demons from the point of his birth until the end of his life in 2005. The film has been well-received thus far and has garnered several awards and nominations, including one for best documentary at this year’s Sundance film festival. It premieres tomorrow, August 3rd at 9 p.m. EST on HBO.

When I first read about Boy Interrupted, I was worried the film would be either incredibly exploitive or apologetic. I wondered if Evan's parents were creating the documentary in order to settle accusations or suspicions, or as an attempt to paint themselves in a good light in a Lifetime-esque retelling. Thankfully, neither are the case.

Boy Interrupted plays as a bittersweet rendition and tribute to a person whose magnetic charm affected everyone around him. Evan was a talented, smart, and loved person during his lifetime, but his bi-polar disorder and various medications haunted him like he wanted to haunt life. His family, friends, therapists, doctors, and teachers all lend their hearts and honesty to this documentary by appearing on screen and talking about Evan. Through these interviews, as well as an abundance of home movie footage and photographs, we not only get to know Evan and his family, but we’re also asked to ponder the role of children in our society.

My favorite aspect of the documentary dealt primarily with Evan as a youngster. It seems as though Evan was born with the knowledge of his demise and, through all of the highs and lows, couldn’t veer from that path. We live in an era where child victimization is the norm. We like to think of kids as weak, whimpering little nymphs who are always in desperate need of saving. Boy Interrupted’s greatest strength, especially because it was created by his parents, is that it looks at Evan as a person, not a victim of circumstance, and looks at his demons straight in the eye. Certain people seem as though they are destined to lead lives of destruction. Of course the environment we grow up in influences that, but we’re also preordained with different personality traits and desires, no matter what happens to you when you leave the womb.

While watching the documentary, I often had tears streaming down my face because it brought back so many of the feelings I felt when I was in that suicidal state of mind. Evan may not be here anymore, but his parents have honored his memory in what I consider the best way possible. He may be gone, but this documentary will live on forever. I don’t know what would have happened to Evan if he had lived following his fatal attempt, but I can only vainly hope that he would have experienced the same moment of clarity I felt if he had.

If you or someone you know is considering suicide, please ask for help.

Written by: Sara Freeman, August 2nd 2009

Quiverfull: Inside the Christian Patriarchy Movement

admin — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 16:58:00 +0000

By Kathryn Joyce

Beacon Press

When I attended a production of Jesus Christ Superstar as a wee lad of fifteen, I marveled at the song-writing, vocal skills, and daunting cross that loomed amidst a gloomy set design. Being then (and now) agnostic, I was appalled by the religious persecution depicted. I have always been puzzled by the penultimate utterance of Jesus. In the Book of Luke (King James version) 23:34, it is written, “Then said Jesus, Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”

I can’t forgive the Christian patriarchy movement subjects of this superbly crafted and deeply troubling new book, for their bad faith, cognitive dissonance, and behavioral misdeeds carry heavy consequences. Whether or not they know what they’re doing remains an open question. Kathryn Joyce’s gripping new account, Quiverfull: Inside the Christian Patriarchy Movement, is about Christians who want literally to take over and remake the world by outbreeding everyone else, warping the minds of school-children, justifying bigotry with transparent illogic, and systematically denying civil rights. That most of the violence is committed quietly and privately against women and girls, most of whom accede to it with joy and penitence, will give even the most devoutly and egalitarian Christian reader pause. “Forgive them for they know not what they do.” Christian patriarchy movement members who feel imperiled by Jews, lesbians, Muslims, atheists, gay males, feminists, foreigners, and the less fecund seem conveniently to have forgotten these words.

The book’s twenty chapters are divided into three gendered parts—“Wives,” “Mothers,” and “Daughters”—in each of which Joyce deftly explores the bizarre ideology and political-economy of feminine subservience. The resulting dystopian communities in real-time and on-line in cyber-space rival those depicted in novels such as Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid's Tale, George Orwell’s 1984, and Sinclair Lewis’s It Can't Happen Here. This ain’t fiction, however. As befitting their understanding and practice of “complementarian theology,” as opposed to the alleged unnaturalness and godlessness of egalitarian gender relations, men and women in the Christian patriarchy movement believe equally (but differently) in the inherent inferiority of Eve (the Original Sin), females (on biological and spiritual grounds), Jezebel (in terms of sex) and women (who have hearts and minds). Sisters are in the process brainwashed into becoming meek and quiet supporters of their brothers, wives are instructed to remain sexually available to their husbands 24/7 (and forego any contraception), and mothers who don’t home-school their children commit them to Satan. Insofar as submissive females require degradation—the more public, the better—virtually every page is painful to read.

Woe unto the woman who proclaims “domestic abuse” or reveals a less than godly husband. Quiverfull opens by recounting the attempted rehabilitation of the disgraced megachurch founder, Ted Haggard, whose initial denial and then avowal of his use of methamphetamine and male sex workers were ripe with possibility. “Complementarian” theology demands that it be not Haggard but Haggard’s wife, Gayle, who bears the brunt of Christian condemnation from low and high places.

Few books have so affected me. This is not the sledge-hammer account I might have written. With equal parts curiosity and compassion, Joyce explains how and why tens of thousands of American women have “chosen” forms of subservience that bankrupt and humiliate them, that crimp their mental development and that hurt them physically and lead sometimes to social leprosy. Each female interviewed firmly and confidently speaks her motivations and explains her anti-feminism while gleefully ignoring the Malthusian outcome of unfettered fertility.

My sole criticism is that Joyce praises the “openness, generosity, courage, and patience” of her key informants with whom she (sometimes, usually, inherently?) “sharply disagreed,” but without revealing any of those disagreements. Joyce’s secular feminist aesthetics and politics are “clear” enough in mind but not in body: how did she manage the flesh-crawling creepiness and awkward silences without every day saying “that’s obviously horseshit” or “I wouldn’t wish this lifestyle on the daughter of my worst enemy?”

That Quiverfull opens with Gayle Haggard’s exemplary case should rouse outside observers of this noxious fundamentalism not to sit on their hands. As she points out, “to follow these ideas to their conclusions can mean, in very real ways [as women], to disappear.”

Written by: Lawrence James Hammar, Ph.D., June 15th 2009

The Other Side of Desire: Four Journeys Into The Far Realms Of Lust And Longing

admin — Mon, 04 May 2009 23:43:00 +0000

By Daniel Bergner

ECCO Books

Daniel Bergner’s new work on sexuality, The Other Side of Desire, garnered a considerable amount of press before it was released thanks to an adapted excerpt from the book published in the New York Times under the title, “What Do Women Want?” Many feminists were disgruntled by the piece, which included University of Nevada, Las Vegas (UNLV) professor Marta Meana’s insistence of narcissism in the role of female arousal. (“Being desired is the orgasm.”) As one NYT letter writer pointed out, “For many women, it’s occasionally hard to know the difference between sexual agency and male-driven definitions of sexiness[...] we are not ‘post feminist’ yet.”

In the book itself, Bergner examines four distinct case studies of individuals with non-normative sexual proclivities, including a foot fetishist struggling with debilitating shame, a man who propositioned his adolescent stepdaughter, and an unrepentant female sadist who openly rejects the “safe, sane, consensual” mantra of the Bondage, Discipline, Sadism, Masochism (BDSM) community. Bergner alternates within each section between intimate portraits of his subjects’ lives and feedback from psychologists and psychiatrists who provide their professional take on the situation.

The female sadist is by far the most articulate subject and her chapter is subsequently the most memorable. Her practices are intense, and, to his credit, Bergner presents her actions to us without apparent judgment. The book’s greatest strength is the author’s willingness to admit moments when his own sensibilities are challenged and then do his best to set those reactions aside and continue reporting. What his interviewees confess is often stunningly honest, and the best way to respect their candidness is to simply share it.

The book ends on a weak note with “The Devotee,” a section focused on an amputee fetishist, Ron, and his amputee wife Laura. While Bergner touches on the ways disabled individuals’ sexuality is neglected (the doctors never address what sex might be like after Laura’s accident nor do they inform of the existence of a devotee community), he doesn’t linger on the subject for long. He also abandons his strategy of providing medical insight as a counterpoint to the personal experience and instead becomes strangely caught up in describing the artwork of Hans Bellmer, a man who photographed damaged-looking dolls, and Ron’s own photographs of amputees.

While Bergner does an admirable job of conveying the eroticism some men experience in sex with a disabled woman, his writing at this stage is often overly dramatic: “The body parts were letters, and their violent reordering would reinvent the body’s language and unmask its messages and lead to shaman’s wisdom.” Furthermore, there seems to be little room for Laura’s sexual needs in the relationship. She wonders what she can offer a man now after losing her conventional beauty in an accident. Once she begins modeling as an amputee her confidence is somewhat restored, yet she still doubts she could ever attract a “normal” man. It seems that Laura, like many women, grew up substituting being desired by a man in place of any desires of her own. Ron’s tastes are catered to, but Laura’s? As readers, we’re never entirely sure what she wants. Perhaps that New York Times letter writer was on to something.

Written by: Monica Shores, May 4th 2009

Breaking Down the Wall of Silence: The Liberating Experience of Facing Painful Truth

admin — Fri, 06 Mar 2009 00:14:00 +0000

By Alice Miller

Basic Books

In an episode of the television series Homicide: Life On The Street, detective John Munch muses on how to crack the case of a brutal murder. In his typically caustic, world-weary way he quips darkly about motive, “If it’s not one thing, it’s a mother.”

Alice Miller would add “or the father” to that line. And she would cite the collective truth-repressing forces of traditional patriarchal society—family, academia, clergy, politicians and the psychiatric community—all influential agents that encourage a child to dismiss or dance around its trauma story as if it were an electrifying third rail. Forgive and move on is the catchphrase of the day.

Not so fast, says Miller. First, air the bloody wound before forgiveness. Bad parenting must be addressed at the root. Denying and repressing guarantee that more innocent victims will be scapegoated to satisfy long festering rage. Miller contends that trauma from abuse is responsible for all of mankind’s neuroses and psychoses, and could lead to our extinction in this fragile technological world. Society must get better at protecting children against what she calls the “poisonous pedagogy”: humiliation, neglect, hitting, shaming with verbal and emotional abuse, and of course, rape, delicately called molestation by polite society.

Breaking Down the Wall of Silence is Alice Miller’s thirteenth book focusing on childhood trauma. Miller is an articulate and empathetic supporter of abused children and grownups who struggle with the betrayal and trauma that result from abuse. An impassioned evangelist for children’s rights (she is a psychologist, an abuse survivor and author of the highly acclaimed The Drama of the Gifted Child), Miller continues to make her case with great force that if the majority of people and lawmakers remain psychologically illiterate, we might as well resign ourselves to nuclear war in the near future.

As in most of Miller’s books, she uses high profile case studies to illustrate her points. She has previously written of the humiliations and beatings that were standard fare in the childhoods of Hitler and Stalin, and how those angry boys grew up to be murderous dictators who projected onto the world stage their revenge in the form of mass murder and torture. In this book, she delves into the childhood of yet another tyrannical basket case: former Romanian president Nicolae Ceausescu. This havoc-wreaking man, emotionally and physically battered and shamed as a child by his own father, rose to power and blow-torched his rage all over his country. He is dead, executed for his crimes, but the hideous abuse lives on to this day in Romania.

I was particularly intrigued by Alice Miller’s study of Ceausescu because a couple of years ago I wrote a magazine article on volunteer vacations. While interviewing people who combined a love of travel with charity work, I talked to several everyday heroes who rolled up their sleeves to work in Romanian Failure-To-Thrive baby clinics. They reported that children were still being abandoned due to the lingering poverty and ignorance from the Ceausescu regime, and so many babies needed holding and feeding that many of these volunteers declined the sightseeing part of their trips in favor of working full-time with the children.

Astonishingly (and inspiring to me about the higher nature of some humans among us), every single person I interviewed returned for a second and third tour of duty to reach out and help. They all were very emotional when I spoke with them. The horror they experienced was overwhelming and their voices quivered in the retelling. One woman brought her daughter with her and the daughter has decided to go into international law to help protect children. Another man was a banker who devotes a month each year to go to Romania and help out.

The most important and urgent case Alice Miller makes in this book is that we must legislate firmly against child abuse and be selective about the political leaders we elect to represent us.Breaking Down the Wall of Silence should be read by all who have children, or are considering having children. That said, if one is caring enough to even know about Alice Miller, then one is probably preaching to the choir.

I just watched a documentary called Deliver Us From Evil about the Catholic Church’s systematic repression and cover-up of child abuse by priests. Back in 2005, Pope Benedict was facing a ground-breaking lawsuit accusing him of conspiring to cover up the rapes of boys by a seminarian. He asked President George W. Bush, Jr. for immunity from lawsuits in the United States. It was granted.

I’ve been reading Alice Miller’s books for a long time and believe she is still a voice in the wilderness calling upon us to evolve as human beings. How do we do this? Respect children and implement laws that enforce greater protection against violence perpetuated on children. Punish people and institutions that inflict and hide abuse. The psychiatric field must also offer a model of treatment that encourages practitioners to be courageous, enlightened witnesses and guides for their patients. Gatekeepers in this field must be constantly on the alert for traumatized therapists seeking to exploit, consciously or unconsciously, victims of abuse. These wolves in sheep’s clothing must be weeded out of the field.

Alice Miller praises feminists for being pioneering whistle blowers on abuse and offers hope when she writes toward the end: “Fortunately the number of therapists who are trained in the new methods is now growing.”

This is a beautiful, fierce, necessary book written by an emotionally intelligent lioness who continues her efforts to break through the wall—one brick, one book— at a time. I highly recommend it.

Written by: Cheryl Reeves, March 5th 2009

The Emperor Jones (1/07/2009)

admin — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 17:48:00 +0000

The Goodman Theatre

Chicago, Illinois

"I learn more when I'm being entertained," a student wrote in a journal last year. The Wooster Group is known for subversive provocation, so if that is your idea of entertainment—if you find ideas entertaining or meta-performance inevitable and intriguing, not pretentious or contrived—bring the whole chain-gang of your internal critics and cultural conscience down to this staging of Eugene O'Neill's 1920 work when next performed.

Brutus Jones, the self-anointed king of a West Indian island, faces insurrection by his "fool bush nigger" subjects. There is nothing comfortable in seeing a white actor in blackface perform the dialect of minstrelsy for an hour, but it might be more uncomfortable for a contemporary Caucasian audience to hear the same script from the lips of a black man. I became excruciatingly aware of the degree to which performance is a contract between the actors and the audience: the payment and the acquiescent listening in exchange for the promise of amusement or edification.

The Wooster Group earns its reputation not only through Kate Valk's astoundingly dedicated recitation, a virtuosic testimony to commitment and craft, but also through its visual and musical components. The minimalist set, elaborate Kabuki-influenced costumes, limited palette, upstage televisions offering intermittent grids or pulsing blobs, choreographed sequences, and soundtrack that intersperses drumming with segments more reminiscent of Tangerine Dream all combine to present an interpretation that engages and enlightens through raising more questions than it answers. Current events make O'Neill's lines resonate: “For the small stealing, they put you in jail. For the big stealing, they make you Emperor.”

The demographic of the press night crowd at the Goodman also underlined Jones' plaintive cry: “What are you looking at, white folks?” Can anyone transcend essentialism? History dictates that a black actor performing in whiteface in no way carries the same impact as the reverse, just as there is nothing that I can say on the street in response to a catcall that is fully retaliatory. There is no such thing as neutral speech.

In theory, we are entering a post-racial society. In reality, the fact that this production is a powerful event, even with its cool self-aware certitude, indicates that we have not. Jones knows the Baptist Church, and the Bible says that the sins of the fathers are visited for four generations (Exodus 34:6-7). Legal slavery in the United States ended in 1865. It persists on the planet today. There is no shortage of human inhumanity to humans. What is the statute of limitations on atrocity? Perhaps all of us, like the Emperor, can declaim: "Forgive me, Lord. Forgive this poor sinner," or "Lord, I done wrong."

Photo credit: Paula Court

Written by: Erika Mikkalo, January 19th 2009

The Center Cannot Hold: My Journey through Madness

admin — Fri, 17 Oct 2008 23:39:00 +0000

By Elyn R. Saks

Hyperion

We rarely have the opportunity to hear from people diagnosed with schizophrenia. As a result, the disease remains misunderstood and maligned, confused with multiple personality disorder, and the butt of several jokes. In writing The Center Cannot Hold, Elyn Saks has, in part, set out to remedy this, and she has acquitted herself most admirably.

Saks’s life is an interesting one. Raised in Miami, Florida, she exhibited, as she can recall, a few early signs of the disorder in high school and in college, but her first serious break arrived while she was getting her Master’s degree at Oxford University. That year, Saks experienced both a stay in a mental hospital and her first relationship with a talk therapist. (The latter is a treatment she strongly advocates, although it is relatively rare to see it used to treat schizophrenia.) The stark detail in which Saks limns her schizophrenic breaks brings the reader immediately into her mind, yet the tone of the writing is so matter-of-fact that Saks’s mind, the mind of a woman both brilliant and deeply mentally ill, does not seem at all unusual. This is her gift as a writer: emotions, mental disorders, therapeutic relationships, and love are all treated as facts, not as things to fight or justify, but simply as the truths of a life. Saks makes schizophrenia real to her readers, as it has always been to her.

The pillars, and the beauty, of Saks’ story are the relationships she has created in her life and shows to her readers: relationships with therapists are portrayed as clearly, and with as much significance, as those with her close friends, her family, and later her husband. Love, Saks demonstrates, is a powerful stabilizing force, even in the face of the inevitable devastation that mental illness brings. In addition, Saks has used her academic work and interests to center herself since her youth, and as readers watch, Saks become what she is today: a professor of legal philosophy tremendously respected in her field, specializing in the legal rights of the mentally ill. We see that her work, the academic niche she has created for herself over time, has come to a graceful symbiosis with her acceptance of her illness. As she advocates, as a passionate writer and thinker, for others like her who have fewer resources, she comes to accept the role that her schizophrenia has played, and will always play, in her life, and also clarifies for herself that it is not the only defining factor.

The Center Cannot Hold is a bold, disturbing, compelling, original book. Elyn Saks is telling a story rarely heard, and she does so with uncommon skill and style.

Written by: Gemma Cooper-Novack, October 17th 2008

When Mothers Kill: Interviews from Prison

admin — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 23:48:00 +0000

By Michelle Oberman, Cheryl L. Meyer

New York University Press

Perhaps predictably, _When Mothers Kill: Interviews from Prison_ is not a fun or heartening read; it is a somewhat scholarly book featuring in-depth accounts of women who have murdered their own children. Yet, if you’re interested in law, crime, parent/child relationships, or social psychology and can find a way to emotionally detach while digesting these stories, this is an excellent reference and review of these very specific types of crime.

Moving away from the sensationalized stories covered by the news, When Mothers Kill is an intense and necessary factual review of a variety of maternal filicide cases, featuring anonymized interviews with convicted, incarcerated women. Co-authors Oberman and Meyer are experts on the subject, the team behind 2001’s Mothers Who Kill Their Children: Understanding the Acts of Moms from Susan Smith to the "Prom Mom", and are professors of law and psychology, respectively. Through their growing body of research, readers can begin to more sympathetically understand women who kill their children, whether the crimes were intentional, accidental, or somewhere in between.

While this book is fact-driven and based on horrific real-life accounts, it quickly becomes a page-turner. In a culture that feels like its veering towards natalism, I found this work of non-fiction an odd, somehow appropriate balance. Understanding motherhood as difficult and complex isn’t savory to many, especially in a society that is quick to blame mothers for events and circumstances far beyond their control. Many of the women in this book come from families of abuse, cycles of neglect, and displaced love (many holding their own conflicting feelings about motherhood), and that should be validated and understood instead of condemned, as we can be so quick to do.

My concern was whether I was interested in these cases as a way to hope for rehabilitation or because I wanted to voyeuristically peer at these women, probably not nearly as removed from me as I’d like to believe. And maybe that’s why this book is important: it reminds us that motherhood is indescribably difficult, that to have survived our own childhoods is sometimes an amazing feat, and to make it out with everyone in one piece is a substantial victory.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, July 31st 2008

Saving the Modern Soul: Therapy, Emotions, and the Culture of Self-Help

admin — Mon, 16 Jun 2008 17:45:00 +0000

By Eva Illouz

University of California Press

From Freud’s creation of psychoanalysis for curing psychopathology by means of talk therapy, to spilling one’s guts on Oprah’s couch or skyping into her soul series webcast, we all just really want to know (dammit!): who am I and why am I here? Saving the Modern Soul examines the language and practice of psychology, essentially, from an American cultural perspective. The author, Eva Illouz, a Professor of Sociology at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, provides a feast of ideas concerning therapeutic values as she tackles the myriad contemporary methods we employ to figure ourselves out, feel better, and find higher meaning.

The demand is huge, considering an ever-surging market of self help books, workshops, advice columns, motivational experts, family life coaches, misery memoirs, corporate programs, and righteous gurus galore. Illouz even discusses our voyeuristic fascination with Tony Soprano’s sessions with Dr. Melfi and the ensuing lessons on narcissism and borderline personality issues. Illouz sharpens her focus on our collective American obsession with navel-gazing to posit that we may too actively romanticize our angst, and this actually serves to complicate our lives with an unbalanced and devotional focus on our pain.

Eva Illouz is a great scholar, and her book has been hailed by many as an important contribution to the field of therapeutic discourse. It is, of course, an inescapable fact that our self-help culture has transformed contemporary emotional life. Reading her book and trying to absorb it all at once is overwhelming The great gusto with which Americans are consuming therapy, pop psychology, new age theories, and every new book that comes down the pike to reveal the “secrets” of the soul is mind-boggling — if not a little bit cringe-inducing.

So I decide to get up and go take a look at my own library to see what a psychology book junky I have personally become. I see books on cult dynamics, narcissism, and sociopaths (the dark side is so scary, so intriguing!), past lives, grieving the loss of a pet, the I Ching, positive thinking, the workings of the creative mind, feelings and how they happen... even, OMG, I see I have The Secret! It’s nestled between Ship of Fools and Conversations of Goethe!

I am pretty much over hearing one more wrenching rehab tale of woe, especially coming from a celebrity, but delving into the twists and turns of what makes humans tick is ever fascinating. It’s like going on a fabulous archeological dig. The great inner journey. Illouz is fascinated, too, and that’s why her books on various facets of the subject keep coming (this is her fifth book).

All in all, I loved the subject matter, but, technically, I found the author’s prose tough-going. Her style is such a series of circuitous sentences jammed with densely clinical words that I frequently needed to take off my glasses and blink my eyes back to clear vision. The other issue I had was point of view. The majority of people seeking help, I believe, are not glamorizing their pain. The pain is real and begs for relief. Any other curiosity one has about the world of psychology - even if it is not one’s own particular problem - what’s so wrong with a little healthy intellectual curiosity? Hmmm?

Written by: Cheryl Reeves, June 16th 2008