Book of the Summer

People sometimes get upset about works of nonfiction that address painful matters. "Can't we talk about something more pleasant?"

This is--especially--a response to true crime. There is always a NYT reader, sniffing, opining in the comments section: "What is wrong with people who would buy that sort of book?" As if an interest in human behavior is a bad thing.

"Hidden Valley Road" is--maybe--a "tough sell."

Here's the story. A Catholic family has twelve children. Twelve! Six of the children become schizophrenic. One attempts suicide at the age of twelve, then again, then, later, again, as part of a marital "murder-suicide." Another tries murder-suicide only once, and succeeds. The family has not one, but two, sons who commit incest-pedophilia-rape. Daughters are shipped far away. One son strips nude in polite company. Cats are killed. Dinner plates are smashed against walls.

The book begins with an Anne Tyler quote, i.e. "The greatest way to show endurance is by sticking with a family."

I don't know much about schizophrenia, but I do know a fair amount about mental illness. In between family vignettes, "Hidden Valley Road" makes some important points: Schizophrenia is a "split" from reality, and it is *not* a case of split "personalities." Schizophrenia can take the form of catatonia, or hallucinations, or violence. It's possibly a response to several different issues within the brain, rather than a simple disease. In this way, it's maybe more like "fever" than like--say--polio. Schizophrenia surely has genetic roots, but it seems that you can have all or many of the markers and still--through various "soft interventions," such as early therapy--manage *not* to show signs of schizophrenia.

At least one person has argued that schizophrenia is the greatest health-related horror facing humanity--the feeling of being cut off from external reality. One reason that medicine hasn't done more--done better--in the fight against schizophrenia is that many people with the condition can't really advocate for themselves. They can't speak up.

Even if you have lived blissfully unaware of the scourge of mental illness (do you actually exist?), you might find this book compelling because of its characters. How do you forgive someone who has exposed you repeatedly to a sexual predator? How do you manage twelve children when six are very sick? How do you work against shame and limited knowledge to understand something that changes and gets worse everyday? If you survive and get out, do you necessarily contend with guilt? How do you relate to the people who didn't get out?

I'm especially moved by the two daughters in this family, who endured unspeakable terrors and then built lives for themselves.

It's unlikely I'll read a smarter or more devastating book this summer. I admire a writer who looks closely at something other people would rather turn away from. Beyond that, Kolker is unusually compassionate and elegant in his storytelling. This is the book to get right now.

P.S. Another stat that caught my eye. Look at the U.S. school shootings carried out by teenagers. Half of those teenagers have shown early signs of schizophrenia.