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The curative
This is the story of an inmate in Bedlam, the London mental asylum, in the early 19th century. Living in appalling conditions he still manages to be witty, urbane and seemingly sane. As the story unfolds we learn about life in the asylum, about his life before Bedlam and how he came to be there.
- GenresFiction
264 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2000
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132 people want to read
About the author
Charlotte Randall
10 books9 followersCharlotte Randall is the award-winning author of five novels. Her first, Dead Sea Fruit, won the South East Asian/South Pacific section of the Commonwealth Writers' Prize for best first book and the Reed Fiction Award in 1995. Her much-praised second novel, The Curative, was join runner-up for the Deutz Medal for fiction at the 2001 Montana New Zealand Book Awards. What Happen Then, Mr Bones? (2004) and The Crocus Hour (2008) were finalists for the same award.
Randall was born and raised in Dunedin, New Zealand and now lives in Christchurch with her husband and children.
Randall was born and raised in Dunedin, New Zealand and now lives in Christchurch with her husband and children.
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Displaying 1 - 19 of 19 reviews
June 10, 2014
When reading The Curative it is advisable to have a dictionary on hand: one of the narrator’s coping strategies was to find unique words that capture his observations of his penury in Bedlam: “Now for the food. The food is abominable. It is soft and all mixed together, unrecognizable. Pabulum.” And then there was floccinaucinihilipilification, the action or habit of estimating something as worthless, or possibly its antonym, haecceity, a word that defines thisness; and what about the technicolour word panchymagogue . . .
The dictionary describes curative as an adjective “able to cure disease” as in the curative properties of herbs and as a noun “a curative medicine or agent”.
Charlotte Randall’s novel The Curative begins with a frontispiece:
“When John Haslam was appointed apothecary to Bethlem Hospital in 1795 there were heated disagreements amongst mad-doctors about how lunatics should be managed. There were those who declared the insane were unmanageable without recourse to chains and straitjackets; others claimed that kindness and gentleness would sufficiently calm the lunatic so that he might more easily be cured. Haslam himself publicly claimed to have adopted the latter approach of ‘moral treatment’, yet an inspection of the dilapidated buildings in 1814 revealed lunatics in leg-irons, others lying naked on straw due to incontinence, and a number of lucid men and women who had been kept in chains for more than a decade.”
The theme of the adjective and noun is well annunciated on page-101:
“‘Yes, everything’s much better now,’ Porlock comments happily.
I stare at him incredulously. ‘So you think the treatment we now endure can be considered an improvement?’
‘There is science in it,’ Porlock replies.”
The science Porlock is referring to is extreme torture and the narrator observes its details and how he endures the suffering; it is spine-chilling, and in today’s context laughable to consider this is called science. But the science of today has shown how misdirected the science within my lifetime has progressed and yet stayed still at the same time. In my limited experience the most profound paper that characterizes this dichotomy is Professor Sir Martin Roth’s 1955 paper which described the first breakdown of senile patients in a psychiatric hospital into diagnostic groups: affective psychosis, senile psychosis, late paraphrenia, arteriosclerotic psychosis, and acute confusion.
The names might be different today but those five groups are the bread and butter of current practice in psychogeriatrics. Roth looked at the 472 patients admitted during the years 1934, 1936, 1948 and 1949 and investigated the 464 case records located, a remarkable feat in itself. The major analysis of the paper was the pattern of outcome between the five groups looked at in a number of different ways: discharged, inpatient, dead at 6-months and 2-years versus cohorts, age bands and gender. The pattern of outcome between the specific groups provided strong confirmation that affective psychosis, late paraphrenia and acute confusion were each entities largely independent of the two main causes of progressive dementia in old age: senile and arteriosclerotic psychosis. This profound conclusion, that seems so obvious today, promoted the importance of making the correct diagnosis to identify the therapeutic opportunities that were available to improve the prognosis; ECT was the only treatment introduced between the first two and the last two cohorts, but the paper was published in the dawn of antipsychotic and antidepressant medication becoming available. I note that the prognosis for delirium remains unchanged: at 6-months 38-of 450-patients were diagnosed with acute confusion; 19-patients had been discharged at 6-months, 15-had died and 4-were still inpatients; at 2-years the 4-inpatients had died. In other words, the mortality rate at 2-years follow-up was 50% and despite the advances in treatment made since then the prognosis for delirium is essentially unchanged3. Come back Porlock, all could be forgiven.
The storyline is not only a description of the most famous madhouse 200-years ago but a tale of the corrupt process that culminated in William Lonsdale’s incarceration and the strategy he used to resist the corrupt and cruel treatment meted out; there is a one-sided dialogue with his ‘more dead than alive’ room mate which carries the narrator’s tale; but the commentary is found in the sparring conversation the narrator creates with his main minder Porlock and the apothecary John Haslam who is the physician’s main representative for the treatment of the inmates. The truly horrific theme though is the belief in their science as being absolute knowledge and the defense of it’s beneficence, which has parallels today when proselytizing in Court in defense of a Compulsory Treatment Order under a Mental Health Act process. Is the science of 2014 any more advanced of that in 1814; I think not.
New Zealand has essentially done away with asylums and replaced the shelter and protection with medication and communal goodwill. The science of medication brings as many adverse effects as benefits; the science of communal goodwill brings as much neglect and abuse as it does dignity and autonomy; the curative of Bedlam has been replaced by the curative hiding in the suburbs behind a cloak of unaccountable science. Will the science of 2014 be as barbaric in 2214 as the science of The Curative in 1814? I think so.
CJHD
10vi14
The dictionary describes curative as an adjective “able to cure disease” as in the curative properties of herbs and as a noun “a curative medicine or agent”.
Charlotte Randall’s novel The Curative begins with a frontispiece:
“When John Haslam was appointed apothecary to Bethlem Hospital in 1795 there were heated disagreements amongst mad-doctors about how lunatics should be managed. There were those who declared the insane were unmanageable without recourse to chains and straitjackets; others claimed that kindness and gentleness would sufficiently calm the lunatic so that he might more easily be cured. Haslam himself publicly claimed to have adopted the latter approach of ‘moral treatment’, yet an inspection of the dilapidated buildings in 1814 revealed lunatics in leg-irons, others lying naked on straw due to incontinence, and a number of lucid men and women who had been kept in chains for more than a decade.”
The theme of the adjective and noun is well annunciated on page-101:
“‘Yes, everything’s much better now,’ Porlock comments happily.
I stare at him incredulously. ‘So you think the treatment we now endure can be considered an improvement?’
‘There is science in it,’ Porlock replies.”
The science Porlock is referring to is extreme torture and the narrator observes its details and how he endures the suffering; it is spine-chilling, and in today’s context laughable to consider this is called science. But the science of today has shown how misdirected the science within my lifetime has progressed and yet stayed still at the same time. In my limited experience the most profound paper that characterizes this dichotomy is Professor Sir Martin Roth’s 1955 paper which described the first breakdown of senile patients in a psychiatric hospital into diagnostic groups: affective psychosis, senile psychosis, late paraphrenia, arteriosclerotic psychosis, and acute confusion.
The names might be different today but those five groups are the bread and butter of current practice in psychogeriatrics. Roth looked at the 472 patients admitted during the years 1934, 1936, 1948 and 1949 and investigated the 464 case records located, a remarkable feat in itself. The major analysis of the paper was the pattern of outcome between the five groups looked at in a number of different ways: discharged, inpatient, dead at 6-months and 2-years versus cohorts, age bands and gender. The pattern of outcome between the specific groups provided strong confirmation that affective psychosis, late paraphrenia and acute confusion were each entities largely independent of the two main causes of progressive dementia in old age: senile and arteriosclerotic psychosis. This profound conclusion, that seems so obvious today, promoted the importance of making the correct diagnosis to identify the therapeutic opportunities that were available to improve the prognosis; ECT was the only treatment introduced between the first two and the last two cohorts, but the paper was published in the dawn of antipsychotic and antidepressant medication becoming available. I note that the prognosis for delirium remains unchanged: at 6-months 38-of 450-patients were diagnosed with acute confusion; 19-patients had been discharged at 6-months, 15-had died and 4-were still inpatients; at 2-years the 4-inpatients had died. In other words, the mortality rate at 2-years follow-up was 50% and despite the advances in treatment made since then the prognosis for delirium is essentially unchanged3. Come back Porlock, all could be forgiven.
The storyline is not only a description of the most famous madhouse 200-years ago but a tale of the corrupt process that culminated in William Lonsdale’s incarceration and the strategy he used to resist the corrupt and cruel treatment meted out; there is a one-sided dialogue with his ‘more dead than alive’ room mate which carries the narrator’s tale; but the commentary is found in the sparring conversation the narrator creates with his main minder Porlock and the apothecary John Haslam who is the physician’s main representative for the treatment of the inmates. The truly horrific theme though is the belief in their science as being absolute knowledge and the defense of it’s beneficence, which has parallels today when proselytizing in Court in defense of a Compulsory Treatment Order under a Mental Health Act process. Is the science of 2014 any more advanced of that in 1814; I think not.
New Zealand has essentially done away with asylums and replaced the shelter and protection with medication and communal goodwill. The science of medication brings as many adverse effects as benefits; the science of communal goodwill brings as much neglect and abuse as it does dignity and autonomy; the curative of Bedlam has been replaced by the curative hiding in the suburbs behind a cloak of unaccountable science. Will the science of 2014 be as barbaric in 2214 as the science of The Curative in 1814? I think so.
CJHD
10vi14
November 8, 2025
There are a lot of big words in this book; which was fine when I was reading on the kindle, but not fine when reading the paperback.
I liked the way William spoke, his wit, and his relationship (if you could call it that) with Horatio.
I thought the ending was kinda 'meh'. But it was basically only the last 3 pages.
I liked the way William spoke, his wit, and his relationship (if you could call it that) with Horatio.
I thought the ending was kinda 'meh'. But it was basically only the last 3 pages.
Read
August 30, 2021Goes on the list of "clever books about colonialism in Aotearoa New Zealand that I didn't enjoy all that much". Right next to the Luminaries.
[I will read more Randall though, her backlist looks interesting and I really need to pull my literary socks up and read more people than Shonagh Koea]
[I will read more Randall though, her backlist looks interesting and I really need to pull my literary socks up and read more people than Shonagh Koea]
February 16, 2019
A toss up between 3 and 4 stars. I did enjoy it. And I thought the writing was beautiful, with amazing vocabulary. Some of the phraseology was beautiful. For example, "a poignant curl", and "a sailing ship cleaving velvet water", both struck me as deceptively simple and yet descriptively complex. I long to be able to use words so cleverly.
The plot is around our hero, apparently sane but incarcerated in a lunatic asylum at the start of the 19th century. As the book progresses we learn more about why he has been enchained, along with a lot of lovely new words. Solipsism. Haeccity. Chatoyant to name a few.
My criticism of this book is simply that it is not as gripping as it could be. It is difficult to work a plot with a character literally in chains for most of the book, and the words and musings have been used to hide the fact that there is in fact very little plot. I think perhaps it could have been rearranged a little to make it more compelling. I would also have welcomed a little more background to the novel - how true were the events in the novel, after all?
Notwithstanding this, it does evoke the horror of the situation, almost the inconceivable horror of it. Further, it allows us to question the nature of sanity. Why would a sane man be locked up? And why kept locked up? More importantly, how can we be sure if anyone is sane? How do we test sanity?
Worth a read, especially for the beautiful language.
The plot is around our hero, apparently sane but incarcerated in a lunatic asylum at the start of the 19th century. As the book progresses we learn more about why he has been enchained, along with a lot of lovely new words. Solipsism. Haeccity. Chatoyant to name a few.
My criticism of this book is simply that it is not as gripping as it could be. It is difficult to work a plot with a character literally in chains for most of the book, and the words and musings have been used to hide the fact that there is in fact very little plot. I think perhaps it could have been rearranged a little to make it more compelling. I would also have welcomed a little more background to the novel - how true were the events in the novel, after all?
Notwithstanding this, it does evoke the horror of the situation, almost the inconceivable horror of it. Further, it allows us to question the nature of sanity. Why would a sane man be locked up? And why kept locked up? More importantly, how can we be sure if anyone is sane? How do we test sanity?
Worth a read, especially for the beautiful language.
May 4, 2021
A journey through the hell of inhumane treatment in the name of so called science and human relationships at the most poignant and earthy level. The story is compelling and unique in its investigation of the insanity that IS Bedlam, personal relationships, language, communication, thought, meaning and humour in the most unexpected places. Charlotte Randall is a genius. I must read more of her work. The ending is what you want it to be or what you imagine it to be, you can write the next chapter if you have a mind, and feel pleased with what Charlotte has lead you to reward the main character with. The author conjures totally immersing imagery and remarkable characters who come to life so vividly you want to speak or yell at them or slap them. What a novel, you would have to be MAD not to read it.
May 10, 2017
Tricky one to rate. I'm not sure I enjoyed reading it. It was disturbing with the detailed accounts of abusive treatments enacted on asylum patients. And parts of it were slow as the story gradually revealed itself through fits and starts told as a story narrated by the patient to his cell mate with lots of interruptions to ponder words and meanings. But it was very compelling and exquisitely planned and written, with a satisfying answer to the mystery of how he came to be in the asylum in the first place so many years before.
2017 Reading Challenge: A book you bought on a trip (New Zealand!)
2017 Reading Challenge: A book you bought on a trip (New Zealand!)
June 21, 2021
I loved this book & a lot has to do with the Audio, it was excellent. The narrator Paul Barrett does a great job and I think it helped me enjoy the book more than if I had read the print version. His voice is just right. The story doesn’t hold back on the ick of sickness in the asylum of the treatments that went on! This is one of those books that reminds you to be thankful to be living in our modern times! The horror of asylum life is heart wrenching!
July 30, 2023
1.5⭐️
First person (so too much tell and not enough show), sane chap wrongly deemed insane narrates how he ended up in Bedlam, working out who is to blame along the way. Ever so boring. Written a little like Samuel Richardson or Daniel Defoe which is almost clever, but still like watching paint dry. Can’t believe I was determined to get to the end. The small insight into “treatments” for those with mental health issues was briefly interesting.
First person (so too much tell and not enough show), sane chap wrongly deemed insane narrates how he ended up in Bedlam, working out who is to blame along the way. Ever so boring. Written a little like Samuel Richardson or Daniel Defoe which is almost clever, but still like watching paint dry. Can’t believe I was determined to get to the end. The small insight into “treatments” for those with mental health issues was briefly interesting.
March 21, 2021
How does a madman convince anyone he is not mad? For the label will taint the very sanity he expresses. And everyone else gets away with the madness in their torturous cures, corruption and crime simply because they are not mad.
A book for those who likes philosophical discussions yet have a strong stomach for the brutal reality of a historical mental asylum.
A book for those who likes philosophical discussions yet have a strong stomach for the brutal reality of a historical mental asylum.
July 6, 2018
this is one of my most favourite books of all times.
July 4, 2022
Totally mad read if you enjoy a challenge and love words. Fabulous mastery of words!
September 25, 2022
I hadn't realised till halfway through that Randall is from NZ. Proud kiwi right here! I picked this up in a hospice shop and was extremely stoked to be reading a great book after being lately disappointed with tedious reads.
March 21, 2012
Slow and very philosophical but is quite interesting
July 15, 2012
Moderately interesting, clever, linguistics and philosophy, but ultimately not a novel I really engaged with.
tried-couldnt
August 16, 2012Started and abandoned in the same day. Books written as inner monologues require a very specific frame of mind, and this is definitelly not the moment.
Read
January 8, 2016great book, very well written, thoroughly enjoyed
February 4, 2014
This is another book that my mother gave to me, and she has pretty unwaveringly good taste in books. This was really clever, and really enjoyable, if occasionally a little too knowing.
August 29, 2014
There's not much than can keep me in one spot for a period of time. The Curative was riveting. See for yourself.
Read
April 27, 2017I wanted to finish this, and made more than one attempt to keep going, but just couldn't do it. The writing is great, but the story is just too thin to keep my interest. And in the end the constant focus on bodily functions and the torturing of those who in the madhouse became depressing, in spite of the narrator's sense of humour and irony.
Displaying 1 - 19 of 19 reviews