Entertainment, Books - Army Times

‘Madness’ only scratches surface

In her 2006 best seller, “Self-Made Man,” Norah Vincent followed the first rule of compelling non-fiction: Surprise the reader.

The self-described “immersion journalist” wrote about the 18 months she spent pretending to be a man. Her book offered fresh insights into gender. But her research for “Self-Made Man” had an unfortunate side effect. It triggered a breakdown, and in 2004 Vincent checked herself into a psychiatric hospital.

There, she says, she got the idea for her new book, “Voluntary Madness.” Instead of pretending to be a man, she would pretend to be mad. In “Madness,” Vincent checks herself into three mental health facilities, each time for 10 days.

Her first stint is at an unidentified big-city public hospital she calls “Meriwether.” She gains admittance by saying she is suicidal.

Vincent reports that the doctors overmedicate the often indigent and psychotic patients into a stupor while the nurses ignore or bully them. The food is unhealthful and the conditions filthy. Vincent veers between feeling pity for the patients and being repulsed by their lack of hygiene and their demands for her to get them candy and cigarettes. The single interesting fact: If Vincent hadn’t had health insurance, Medicaid would have paid $14,276 for 10 days.

In the second segment, Vincent checks herself into St. Luke’s, a private Catholic facility somewhere on the prairie. Although it costs the same as “Meriwether,” the care is much better. The staff is kind, the food fresh, the bathroom clean. And the head psychiatrist is sensible and wise. Instead of prescribing drugs, he lets her go running at a nearby park. Then Vincent finds nirvana at “Mobius,” a New Age center that offers therapy, movement classes and spa treatments but also allows medications.

“Voluntary Madness” fails as an expose. It contains nothing to surprise anyone who has seen or read “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,” or anyone who follows the news about the ties between drug companies and doctors.

As a memoir describing Vincent’s own depression, it is slightly better. But even so, “Madness” reads like a self-absorbed blog as Vincent rambles on about fellow patients and muses on mental illness.

But the larger question is whether 10-day stays in three institutions is enough time to understand what’s wrong with our mental health system. Good “immersion journalism” must dig deeper than Vincent’s superficial research.