Sunday, December 5, 2010 — Crazy?

A while back I wrote a bit about my feelings that serious grieving involved elements strongly resembling aspects of a bipolar condition. Because I have more time to myself these days, I actually read more. That also has to do with the fact that I read a lot on my Kindle. When you hear a compelling interview on the radio you are free to dial it up on the E-book and have it in your hands within minutes. That's definitely had an effect on my reading habits. I heard Mark Vonnegut several weeks ago on the radio, discussing sanity and the medical profession. He is a practicing pediatrician and was a thoroughly rational sounding man in the context of this interview. I wrote down the name of his first book and soon had it on my handy little device.

Eden Express is an amazingly candid, nonfiction description of Vonnegut's life in his early twenties. He decided to escape life's horrors and the world situation by traveling with his girlfriend and other fellow Swarthmore graduates to the deep lakes and forests of British Columbia. This is a good read even if you were only concentrating on such a classic hippie escape to a commune established by young east coast preppies. But what soon becomes the overpowering part of the story is young Mark's graphic description of his own descent into schizophrenic/bipolar behavior and ultimately, the roll of genetics and chemistry in our individual life journeys. About half way through this book he finds himself in a mental hospital three times before getting a longer term grip on his condition. In Eden Express, Vonnegut walks you through his experience in such a way as to put you fully in his shoes. That can be scary. It walks such a fine line between totally tragic and horribly funny. I found myself bursting out laughing and immediately wondering if I should be crying instead of laughing. Mark Vonnegut is every bit as good a writer if not better than his famous father.

Eden Express is beautifully formed and paced and reads at time as poetry. The second book, written by Vonnegut many years later is of a much looser or free association construction. It's like wandering in the head of a very bright and creative man. I am only half way through it and the poor man, who has amazingly gone to medical school, begun a practice, has a wife and two children and is about to jump deeply into another mental crash. I should really have waited to write about it until I have finished reading this volume but it's so completely on my mind I can't restrain myself. I would definitely recommend reading Eden Express first and at this minute I can't even give you the correct name of the second book. It's always being listed by the first few words in the title and dot, dot, dotting the rest beyond your vision. Something to do with "Just like someone without mental illness?" I'll get the real title to you in my next entry. Promise. In the mean time, if you are at all interested in the subject, I find Eden Express to be a sterling, honest, candid tale of what it is like to lose control over your emotions and your mental processes and the relationship between the two. Thank you, dear son of Kurt.