Do You like book Darkness Visible: A Memoir Of Madness (1992)?
I reread this after many years, having apparently forgotten how much it sucks. It's not the content so much as Styron's style: pompous, dull, self-satisfied, flat, prosaic. I understand his point: that depression (or as he prefers to call it, being a ponderous hack, "Melancholia") is tedious, that depressed people are insufferable, that it's all very grim and dreary and Extremely Serious! and so forth. I just fail to understand why this reads like the first draft of an amateur journalist. I don't remember his novels being this awful. Even the title is pretentious. The only good thing I have to say about this book is that it's less than a 100 pages long. This made me feel slightly less gypped at the end, when oh, hey, Depression Passes! Especially if you go to a hospital, where you can focus on getting well and cut your crappy food with plastic utensils. I also think his sudden revelation at the end, about how his major depression might have been precipitated by misuse of Halcion, is crap artistry. It sounded to me like he was just trying to impose some kind of coherence on a very meandering trajectory. If he was indeed, as he claimed, a compulsive reader of the Physician's Desk Reference, surely it would have occurred to him before that he was overdoing it with the sleeping aids. He was second-guessing his doctors throughout his illness, so why would he have taken the doctor who prescribed the Halcion at his word? I wasn't rooting for Styron to get better. I didn't even believe he was truly suicidal. I just wanted to scream, "Get over yourself, asshole! You're in motherfucking France, accepting a fancy award they're deluded enough to think you deserve!" or even, to my shame, "Just shut up and off yourself, already!" For the sake of his long-suffering wife, I'm glad he didn't commit suicide, of course, but I don't think he made his darkness visible. He just made a bunch of murky, unbeautiful sentences and annoyed the hell out of me.
—Rene Saller
I don't understand depression as a disease. I know people suffer from it, and that it can be serious enough to lead to hospitalizations or even suicide. Yet, I'll admit I've been dismissive of those in my life who repeatedly claim to be habitually depressed. I often view their behavior as manipulative and attention-seeking. But is that fair? Even after reading this very personal account of life with depression, I'm just not sure. To paraphrase William Styron, depression is an individual experience with symptoms and outcomes specific to the sufferer. Knowing that each unique experience cannot be represented by one man's journey into, through, and beyond a serious bout of depression, I have to admit there were moments as I read that I could see parallels between the author and those I know. He talked a lot about insomnia, paranoia, and fear of abandonment. He talked about how the depression negatively affected his health, even the pitch and timber of his voice. Familiar complaints. Recognizing the shared symptoms, I have to admit I felt some guilt for the dismissive attitude I've had. I also found it interesting that he talked about medications and their negative impact on his depressive state. The prescriptions meant to help him battle the insomnia worsened his condition exponentially, a realization that came only after a change in medication. I want to share this with the sufferers I know, but I imagine this tidbit will not be well-received.I'm hoping that having read this book will help me be a more sympathetic listener. I can't fix the problems of those I know, but I can work on my reaction to their ailments, real and perceived.
—Krista
NATURAL BURELLATag words:Albert Camus, Romain Gary, Jean Seberg, Parigi, Lo straniero, Vanity Fair, Hotel Washington, Prix Mondial Cino Del Duca, 25.000 dollari americani, Abbie Hoffman, Un letto di tenebre, Randall Jarrell, Primo Levi, Halcion, Ludiomil, benzodiazepina, Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of the American Psychiatric Association, Concorde (l’aereo), Gallimard, plateau de fruits de mer, Le confessioni di Nat Turner, Mersault, Emma Bovary, Considerazioni sulla ghigliottina, Sisifo, La caduta, Martha’s Vineyard, New York, Connecticut, Brasserie Lipp, La Coupole, Prix Goncourt, New York Review of Books, Chapel Hill, New York Times, Chaucer, 1303, 1952, 1960, 1965, 1967, 1968, 1970, 1978, 1980, 1985, 1986, 1987, 1988, 1989, American Hospital di Neuilly, Académie Française, William James, Varie forme dell’esperienza religiosa, Baudelaire, l’ala della follia mi ha sfiorato, Majakovskij, Adolf Meyer, Newsweek, Times, 150 fenilbarbiturici, alcol, Auschwitz, L’autodistruzione nella terra promessa, teoria del lutto incompleto, malinconia, depressione, tempesta mentale, fantasie atroci, angoscia, sofferenza, annegamento, soffocamento, tormento, terrorizzato, indifeso, tremante, patologia, pazzia, processo biochimico aberrante, neurotrasmettitori cerebrali, stress sistemico, deplezione di noradrenalina e serotonina, cortisolo, disperazione, desolazione, suicidio, unico rimedio, annullamento dell’animaE quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle
—orsodimondo
