I’ve long been fascinated by psychiatry, mostly I think because I think people are fascinating and psychiatrists seem to have the uncanny skill of figuring out the workings of people’s minds. Likely, that’s a romanticized notion of the profession, informed by books and movies I enjoy where psychiatrists solve mysteries using their keen insight into the human psyche. The reality is probably less puzzle-cracking and more empathizing with ordinary people who are dealing with difficult conditions. And that’s certainly the impression I get from How Can I Help?, David Goldbloom’s account of a week in his life as a psychiatrist. It’s a compassionate introduction into the world of mental health, and Goldbloom gives us insight into his approaches to treatment as well as debunks some myths around the profession.

I don’t think I’ve ever described a book as compassionate before, but there’s a gentleness in the way Goldbloom relates his encounters with patients that invites the reader to empathize with what they’re going through. Mental health is a challenging subject that still faces a lot of stigma — in one of the chapters, a woman at a conference mentions that she’d survived cancer, then admits she wouldn’t have disclosed a mental health condition quite so easily. There are social media campaigns now (e.g. Bell Let’s Talk) encouraging people to break the silence around their experiences with mental health, and I understand that many mental health conditions are invisible. But I also can’t help but think of people I’ve seen on public transit and the streets, who are acting erratically, and who, I admit, sometimes scare me. How Can I Help? is an important book because Goldbloom speaks about a wide range of patients, from those who keep it hidden to those who become violent, and in each case, he presents the reader with their humanity.

Goldbloom also directly addresses one of the more controversial aspects of psychiatry — electroconvulsive therapy (ECT). He’s a proponent of this treatment and understands that there’s a stigma around it because many people associate it with the version presented in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. I happen to be one such person, and this chapter was particularly difficult for me to read. Goldbloom dispels the misconceptions by describing how ECT works and how it helped several of his patients. He also goes into detail about what actually happens during an ECT procedure, which isn’t quite as violent as usually portrayed in on TV. He hasn’t completely convinced me that ECT isn’t a scary procedure, and I couldn’t help but wonder how much pain the patients actually went through or what the long-term effects of this treatment actually are, but the chapter did present a more reassuring depiction of ECT than I imagined and this may reassure some readers. I also wondered if this depiction of ECT only applied to wealthier countries, or if countries like the Philippines, where I grew up, also had access to this technology, and I hope it’s the latter.

I enjoyed the insight he provides into how he approaches each patient, as these broke down their conditions into manageable chunks. Their conditions may never be completely cured, but it was interesting to see how they can be managed on a daily basis. I also really liked the parts where he mentored younger colleagues, as it helped me better understand the reasoning behind some of his decisions.

How Can I Help? is a compassionate introduction into the world of psychiatry that demystifies the profession and addresses issues of stigma around mental health. It focuses on the humans experiencing mental health conditions rather than on the conditions themselves. It also highlights a range of common psychiatric conditions, and notes that approximately one in five Canadians will require psychiatric care in any given year, which is a nice addition to books like Sybil or Silence of the Lambs that focus on more dramatic cases. Finally, it’s about mental health and a psychiatric practice, but it isn’t filled with medical jargon or overly long explanations, so it’s accessible even to readers who aren’t too familiar with psychiatry. It’s a good book and recommended for anyone interested in mental health or in learning more about the daily life of a psychiatrist.

+

Thank you to Simon and Schuster Canada for an advance reading copy of this in exchange for an honest review.

How Will I Know You? tells the story of the murder of Joy, a teen girl in a small town, from the perspectives of four people involved in the case: Susanne, Joy’s mother; Martin, a Black graduate student and Susanne’s TA who has been arrested for the crime; Harper, Joy’s best friend and potential eyewitness; and Tom, a rescue diver and son-in-law of the town’s police chief. As with any small town in a murder mystery, there are lots of secrets and hidden scandals among the people in Joy’s circle, and these all come to light as the truth behind Joy’s death is revealed.

The identity of the murderer wasn’t much of a surprise to me, so the best part of the book for me wasn’t so much the whodunnit angle as it was learning about the people in the town and the things they are now afraid will be revealed about their lives. Susanne’s part of the story fell a bit flat for me, and Martin’s part of the story was interesting, but it was Tom and Harper’s stories that really stood out for me. Tom struggles with his inability to impress his father-in-law and his fear that his wife sides with her parents over him. In some of my favourite scenes, Tom confronts her about telling her parents some really big news before coming to him. Harper’s story is just as compelling, as she tries to keep up with Joy’s rising popularity only to be rebuffed time and again. The memory of how Joy had treated her in the last few months colours her grief over Joy’s death, and her flashback scenes were some of the strongest in the book.

Treadway also explores the significance of racial bias in this book, particularly in Martin being arrested despite the evidence being circumstantial. The sheer number of race-based microaggressions in the story felt a bit heavy-handed at times, though not necessarily unrealistic. I particularly like the part where Martin’s artwork is questioned on the basis of its “authenticity” in representing “the Black experience.” It’s almost satirical, yet still something I can actually imagine happening at an art show or competition.

How Will I Know You? is a story practically made for TV. The murder itself is a catalyst that sets off webs of stories for an intriguing cast of characters, and an in-depth exploration of crime and scandal in a small town.

+

Thank you to Hachette Book Group Canada for an advance reading copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Lucinda Rosenfeld’s Class is a satirical novel about a bleeding heart liberal white woman whose commitment to her ideals is challenged when a troubled student from a nearby housing project begins bullying children in her daughter’s class. Rosenfeld’s protagonist Karen Kipple is proud to send her daughter Ruby to a public school where few of children are white or Asian rather than a private prep academy. She also wonders if it’s a good thing that her best friend amongst the mothers is Black and that the mother she despises the most — the head of the PTA — is white. When some of the parents begin complaining about the bully, who happens to be Black, and Ruby’s best friend is transferred to a private school, Karen voices her sympathy for the boy’s underprivileged background and is confused when her Black best friend dismisses him as trouble.

The satire is gentle, and the humour is sharp at times but the edge is blunted by the protagonist’s earnestness. Rosenfeld sends up not so much the hypocrisy as the naivete of liberalism, where some proponents present the appearance of liberal values but are unwilling to get their hands dirty when things get personal.

The humour is also unsustainable in the long run — within a couple of chapters, I was beginning to tire of the snark, and it was almost a relief when Rosenfeld shifts to a more earnest tone. Karen makes a momentous decision that makes her question her liberal street cred, but more importantly, forces her to face the reality of her unconscious biases. We may roll our eyes at some of Karen’s actions, but can never bring ourselves to laugh at her. A subplot involving a billionaire felt unnecessary and another subplot involving PTA funds was true to the characters but honestly felt cheesy and didactic rather than cheer-worthy as I think it was meant to be. Still, I liked the way things turned out and I thought the ending made sense.

Overall, I think the satire could have used a bit more bite, and I think the story really picked up with the more straightforward latter half of the novel.

+

Thank you to Hachette Book Group for an advance reading copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.