Skip to main content

Podcast News

"The Shrink Next Door" concerns a man, Marty, with boundary issues.

Marty has just ended things with a girlfriend, and she wants reparations. Specifically, she wants a Mexico vacation once promised to her. Marty is so "at sea" that he believes he still owes this person a trip to Mexico.

The Mexico discussion seems to be the "inciting event" -- the thing that gets Marty into therapy. But he hasn't just chosen any old therapist; he has chosen Ike, a charismatic licensed psychiatrist and con man who basically takes over his life.

Ike seems to make Marty fire his own sister. (The sister is problematic in her own ways, inventing her own hours, using work time to chat on the phone, but the podcast doesn't fully get into that.) As a juvenile form of retaliation, the sister goes to Zurich and robs a bank--takes, from Marty, possessions that an ancestor had left behind.

Here, Marty does something even more shocking: He severs relations with both his sister and his sister's small child. Then the world spins out of control. Ike seizes the reins of Marty's business, invents false personae who seem to mistreat employees and clients, begins throwing lavish parties on Marty's estate, engages in inappropriate flirtations with people in his care, and "gives to charity" big piles of money that aren't really his.

Ike refers to his clients as "la familia" -- and, wisely, the podcasters pick up on this term and highlight it, suggesting that Ike is running something like a mob family, or a cult.

This is a reasonably entertaining story and it has Janet Malcolm-ish touches. Malcolm is interested in ways in which narratives can be inevitably self-serving, and you see that again and again here, particularly with Marty's sister. Malcolm also enjoyed considering the phenomena of false personae, and that's a fun feature in this podcast, as well.

What seems to be missing is a sense of advocacy. In other words, by episode four, I'm a bit tired by Ike; I feel I know him, more or less. Instead of additional Ike stories, I'd like for the podcaster to get boldly philosophical. What can you learn from a story like this? What do we owe to other people? When is a person "duped," and when is a person complicit in changes occurring within his own life? Non-fiction writers can say to a reader (or listener), "Here's what you can remember if you find yourself in a similar situation. Here's how I, as a reporter, can advocate for you."

Maybe these questions (and musings) will come later; I haven't finished the series. But that's what is on my mind now. My husband and I enjoyed these first few episodes, and will very likely go back to finish the story.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

Joshie

  When I was growing up, a class birthday involved Hostess cupcakes. Often, the cupcakes would come in a shoebox, so you could taste a leathery residue (during the party). Times change. You can't bring a treat into a public school, in 2024, because heaven knows what kind of allergies might lurk, in unseen corners, in the classroom. But Joshua's teacher will allow: a dance party, a pajama day, or a guest reader. I chose to bring a story for Joshua's birthday (observed), but I didn't think through the role that anxiety might play in this interaction. We talk, in this house, quite a bit about anxiety; one game-changer, for J, has been a daily list of activities, so that he knows exactly what to expect. He gets a look of profound satisfaction when he sees the agenda; it doesn't really matter what the specific events happen to be. It's just about knowing, "I can anticipate X, Y, and Z." Joshua struggled with his celebration. He wore his nervousness on his f...

Josh at Five

 Joshie's project is "flexibility"; the goal is to see that a plan is just an idea, not a gospel, not a guarantee. This is difficult. Yesterday, we went to a restaurant--billed as "open," with unlocked doors--and the owner informed us of an "error in advertising." But Joshie couldn't accept the word "closed." He threw himself on the floor, then climbed on the furniture. I felt for the owner, until he nervously made a reference to "the glass windows." He imagined that my child might toss himself through a sealed window, like Mary Katherine Gallagher, or like Bruce Willis, in "Die Hard." Then--thank the Lord!--I was able to laugh. The thing that really has therapeutic value for Joshie is: a firetruck. If we are out in public, and he spots a parked truck, he wants to climb on each surface. He breathlessly alludes to the wheels, the door, the windows. If an actual fire station ("fire ocean," in Joshie's parla...