Zack McDermott

On completely legible psychosis;

What is left of the question of truth-in-representation when the psychotic episode is re-transcribed, retrospectively, with one eye on the reader and the other on the potential movie deal (perhaps it's the third eye which has fixed its gaze on the event).

The problem of the memoir is not dissimilar to the problem of writing "childhood." A question that appears to have regressed since Freud was "in vogue" (though the best works of that era all are anti-Freudian). We are no longer concerned with the notion of the memory or experience which is not directly accessible to the Mind. (Freud's A Child is Being Beaten is worth returning to, at least for its insight into the cathected phantasy in conspiracy-politics.) Naïvité is not "interesting." And the memoir, which is always a naïvité-that-knows-it-is-naïvité, is doubly stale. When the memoirist writes something "interesting," we are already the third party of a joke-with-the-author-at-expense-of-character. The narrator's psychotic episode in which he believes himself to be on a reality television show is entirely "joke" from this perspective (in his relation of a paranoid-thought-process-as-comedy-script). But it is not so easy for the memoir to get beyond this. The recollection of valuable Coca-Cola cans in Ypi's Free (a better memoir) is a cheap laugh. Also a problem in Aciman's Out of Egypt (a much better memoir), which, even as it presents genuine exceptional characters and events, is offering them up for entertainment. Nabokov in Speak, Memory (and more so in Look at the Harlequins) and Hustvedt in The Shaking Woman appear to have, in part, overcome this problem of voyeurism, though only by retreat into prose and technical writing respectively. I remain unconvinced that the memoir is a viable form.

There is an interesting story in Gorilla, though hidden in the interstices. At the end of Chapter 16 we read what appears to be an edited/abridged diary written by the author's mother which splits open part of the narrator's reality-construction (in which there is always the mitigation of exposure / sexual assault / physical assault / murderous racism with the conceit, "Isn't this so funny/weird/scary?!"). This section is redemptive for the same reason that Joshua Oppenheimer may be the only competent Modern-Documentary-Filmmaker i.e. for his study of displacement in the The Act of Killing such that we see the narrative doubly displaced (placed under erasure) in a play written and directed by the killers themselves (The medium of Film is always already displaced and requires feats of ingenuity such as this to overcome such artifice.).

We are often reading good fiction only for the moment of relief which occurs upon returning to bad fiction.

We need Art because it produces Bad Art as a byproduct.

The hospital's cancer ward is decorated with the naïve work of previous patients because it assures us: "It is worth dying just to get away from all the Bad Art."… (altro)

Zack McDermott’s mental health memoir gives readers an idea of what it is like to live with bipolar disorder. He worked as a public defender with the Legal Aid Society in New York when he had a psychotic break and spent time in Bellevue. This book reveals the telltale signs of a manic episode coming on, his attempts to control them, and multiple stays in mental wards. The narrative reads as a thank you note to his mother for her understanding, caring, and steadfast support. It is also an attempt to destigmatize mental illness.

McDermott portrays the importance of a strong support network, medication, therapy, sleep, and knowing what to do when symptoms present. This book is an excellent resource for anyone interested in or impacted by bipolar disorder. It is also a well-written memoir with a good dose of self-deprecating and off-the-wall humor. It packs an emotional punch. I am not sure of McDermott’s plans for his writing career, but I would be curious to see what he could do in fiction.
… (altro)

This book was SO good. I picked it up Friday afternoon from the library and finished it this morning, I couldn’t put it down. The writing was poignant but funny, honest, raw, and heartfelt. This memoir is as much about his mother’s unwavering love and tireless support as his personal bouts with mental illness. His accounts of his episodes and of his life before, during and after were so personal and honest and well-written. He made you feel sympathetic without seeming like he was looking for sympathy.
So often as a society we discuss mental illness in hushed, judgemental tones or assume it’s someone’s fault, it’s refreshing to read an account that basically says I have this, this is what it’s like, and it’s not my fault, and it’s not going to go away.… (altro)

This is the memoir of a young public defender who encounters mental illness within the criminal population and also in himself. It is a compelling, if somewhat painful, read. The reader is allowed into the intimate helplessness of the author's manic episodes, his mother's abiding love and support, and the complexity of trying to live fully while navigating the crazy path of severe mental illness. This is one of the best mental illness stories I have ever read. I attribute that to the sharp mind and brutal honesty of the author.… (altro)