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A review by rbruehlman
The Collected Schizophrenias by Esmé Weijun Wang
5.0
This isn't a memoir. It's more like a series of essays that deliciously explores all of the philosophical questions that bubble up in my brain when I read memoirs, but have been left for me to wonder all on my own. It turns out Esmé Weijun Wang has pondered them, too, and more.
It's hard for me to write a review because so much of what she said resonated with me on multiple levels, and I worry I would end up summarizing her essays when she articulates it so much better.
What I will say is this: I loved that these essays explored so many aspects of mental illness. The arbitrariness of diagnoses in the symptom-driven DSM-V; the stigma of a "bad" diagnosis. The indivisibility of the illness and who one is as a person, or not. The invalidation of mentally ill people's voices in their own treatment, because, after all, they're "crazy"; the uselessness of well-intentioned psychiatric hospitalizations that deny autonomy and a sense of dignity. The desire for the mentally ill to distance themselves from those iller than them, lest they be lumped in with them; understanding yet not wanting to empathize with the similarly unwell, because they reflect back to you an uncomfortable image of yourself. The fear of passing on mental illness to one's own children, as one's own parents did; letting go of dreams you once had. Trying to find sense in the madness, a reason, a purpose for one's suffering. A redefining of what it means to be alive, for oneself.
So much of this resonated with me on a personal level in regards to my own haywire neurology. And, as someone who does not share her diagnosis, for the things I fortunately don't have to ponder: I would wonder those same things too, if I were her, and draw the exact same conclusions.
I loved that Wang is sure of who she is, yet she also doesn't have the answers and admits it. Is schizophrenia intrinsically part of who she is, a schizophrenic vs. someone with schizophrenia? How much autonomy should a mentally ill person have? What does it mean to be a functioning individual?
Initially the book reminded me a bit of the autism rights movement, which champions the belief that autism is a way of being, intrinsic to a person, and is neither curable nor should be cured. I have difficulty with that movement, not because I disagree with the premise necessarily, but because the members of that movement are so often angry and abrasive, with seemingly little room for nuance. I would not really want to have a discussion with a lot of prominent members of the autism right movement on some of their more controversial takes, because I would feel shut down right away.
But I would want to have a conversation with Wang. Wang has some controversial opinions for sure--for instance, on the right to deny treatment--but she also explores the other side, as well, because she recognizes it isn't so cut-and-dry. She is humble and admits her own failings as an advocate, too. She wants to be seen as a successful person, hiding the psychosis, and she can't help but be repulsed by people more ill than her... because there is, after all, a hierarchy to "acceptable" mental illness. Yet that same illness enables her to feel a tremendous amount of empathy for those who struggle, like the autistic boy Stuart at her camp for bipolar children, because she knows what it is like to struggle. She is but human, doing the best she can with the lot she is given without feeling sorry for herself, able to speak up for those like her, yet not a perfect ally. It makes her imminently relatable.
I fell off a bit towards the end of the book when she began talking about her Lyme disease; I didn't find that part of the book that relatable or interesting. Still, though, the vast majority of the book provides such food for thought that I will rate it 5 stars nonetheless. This isn't a memoir. It's a philosophical exploration of mental illness and what it means to be human.
It's hard for me to write a review because so much of what she said resonated with me on multiple levels, and I worry I would end up summarizing her essays when she articulates it so much better.
What I will say is this: I loved that these essays explored so many aspects of mental illness. The arbitrariness of diagnoses in the symptom-driven DSM-V; the stigma of a "bad" diagnosis. The indivisibility of the illness and who one is as a person, or not. The invalidation of mentally ill people's voices in their own treatment, because, after all, they're "crazy"; the uselessness of well-intentioned psychiatric hospitalizations that deny autonomy and a sense of dignity. The desire for the mentally ill to distance themselves from those iller than them, lest they be lumped in with them; understanding yet not wanting to empathize with the similarly unwell, because they reflect back to you an uncomfortable image of yourself. The fear of passing on mental illness to one's own children, as one's own parents did; letting go of dreams you once had. Trying to find sense in the madness, a reason, a purpose for one's suffering. A redefining of what it means to be alive, for oneself.
So much of this resonated with me on a personal level in regards to my own haywire neurology. And, as someone who does not share her diagnosis, for the things I fortunately don't have to ponder: I would wonder those same things too, if I were her, and draw the exact same conclusions.
I loved that Wang is sure of who she is, yet she also doesn't have the answers and admits it. Is schizophrenia intrinsically part of who she is, a schizophrenic vs. someone with schizophrenia? How much autonomy should a mentally ill person have? What does it mean to be a functioning individual?
Initially the book reminded me a bit of the autism rights movement, which champions the belief that autism is a way of being, intrinsic to a person, and is neither curable nor should be cured. I have difficulty with that movement, not because I disagree with the premise necessarily, but because the members of that movement are so often angry and abrasive, with seemingly little room for nuance. I would not really want to have a discussion with a lot of prominent members of the autism right movement on some of their more controversial takes, because I would feel shut down right away.
But I would want to have a conversation with Wang. Wang has some controversial opinions for sure--for instance, on the right to deny treatment--but she also explores the other side, as well, because she recognizes it isn't so cut-and-dry. She is humble and admits her own failings as an advocate, too. She wants to be seen as a successful person, hiding the psychosis, and she can't help but be repulsed by people more ill than her... because there is, after all, a hierarchy to "acceptable" mental illness. Yet that same illness enables her to feel a tremendous amount of empathy for those who struggle, like the autistic boy Stuart at her camp for bipolar children, because she knows what it is like to struggle. She is but human, doing the best she can with the lot she is given without feeling sorry for herself, able to speak up for those like her, yet not a perfect ally. It makes her imminently relatable.
I fell off a bit towards the end of the book when she began talking about her Lyme disease; I didn't find that part of the book that relatable or interesting. Still, though, the vast majority of the book provides such food for thought that I will rate it 5 stars nonetheless. This isn't a memoir. It's a philosophical exploration of mental illness and what it means to be human.