The Tunnel is a father’s memoir about a family’s odyssey through the world of serious mental illness. It is a story about the battles Friedler’s son Henry fought with his parents, with various authority figures—including schools, teachers, and the police— and most importantly, the battles Henry fought with his own mind. Henry’s story takes place for the most part in the distinctive air of Uptown New Orleans. He came from a well-educated and prosperous Southern family, the only son between two sisters. The memoir chronicles the way society views, treats, and even criminalizes the mentally ill. It is a love story of a husband and wife as well as a fractured love story of a father and son. But at its heart The Tunnel is a story of the resilience of a family, a man, and a marriage. It is a story of taking that gasp of air at the end of a tunnel—a breath that says you are alive, you made it through your own tunnel of darkness, and you will find happiness on the other side.
A touching and well-written memoir. The story is inherently gut-wrenching, but the author writes it with grace and a touch of levity that makes it not just palatable but compulsively readable. Like a New Orleans funeral, it is a celebration of life as much as it is a lament for a terrible loss.
This is not some airport celebrity memoir, where the author wants to be seen as the hero or the anti-hero. This feels like something the author would have written even if nobody would ever see it; a testament to an entire precious life and the battle the accompanied it. The author is remarkably open about his experiences and his own perceived failures. Writing this book is clearly a form of catharsis for him, which makes the story all the more gripping and personal.
This is not just a story about grief, loss, or mental health. It's also a broad insight fatherhood, marriage, identity, and our different ways of searching for happiness. It's also a story of redemption. Above all, it's a portrait of the late Henry Friedler, a character so unique and compelling that a book about his life was already way overdue.
In THE TUNNEL, Trip Friedler delivers a poignant and heart-wrenching narrative that explores the depths of despair and the flickers of hope that accompany the harrowing journey of mental illness. Through the lens of his personal tragedy—the loss of his son, Henry, to suicide—Friedler invites readers into a world fraught with emotional turmoil, illuminating the struggles faced by families navigating the complexities of bipolar disorder and the often daunting mental health system.
Friedler’s prose is imbued with raw honesty, as he candidly recounts the challenges his family faced in seeking help for Henry. The narrative is not only a memoir but also a call to action, shedding light on the barriers that many families encounter when trying to access mental health resources. The author portrays the frustration of dealing with a system that, at times, feels overwhelmed and inadequate to meet the pressing needs of those suffering from mental illness.
What makes THE TUNNEL particularly compelling is its duality—the juxtaposition of despair and hope. While Friedler does not shy away from depicting the darkest moments, he simultaneously offers a glimmer of hope for families battling similar challenges. He emphasizes the importance of resilience, understanding, and community support, encouraging readers to hold onto hope even in the face of overwhelming adversity.
Friedler’s narrative is enriched by reflections on love, loss, and the profound impact of mental illness on familial relationships. The authenticity of his voice resonates deeply, making the reader feel the weight of his grief while also celebrating the memories of Henry’s life. I share mutual friends with the Friedler family from my days as a law student and am in awe of the family’s strength and courage in telling their story. THE TUNNEL is a powerful and moving exploration of grief, love, and the relentless pursuit of understanding in the face of mental health struggles.
Ruth Beck once said, “Having a child is like having your heart walk around outside of your body.” Nothing could be truer. Every child is love personified, and with every birth comes hope for a tomorrow filled with possibilities. When these hopes are dashed, and the promise of a once-bright future shatters for your child, how would you cope?
Phone calls at night are rarely good. “The Tunnel: A Memoir” by Tripp Friedler opens with one such phone call. Tripp’s son, Henry, is in crisis. He confesses to looking down at the Mississippi River and contemplating taking his own life. This cataclysmic moment fills his parents with terror, and luckily, they are able to talk him into driving back home.
As the story unfolds, we’re introduced to the Friedler family: Tripp, Heidi, Patti, Henry, and his energy twin, Kate. We get to know what Henry was like as a young boy, his future filled with promise – we learn of his prowess at sports, his popularity with his peers, his relentless drive to win, and his sweet desire to please his parents. By all accounts, his childhood is idyllic and he’s the child every parent dreams of. Until, one day, he isn’t. Small for his age and kicked out of boarding school, Henry suffers the first in a long list of disappointments. His mood and attitude change seemingly overnight. His disease, though still largely hidden at this point, slowly manifests itself.
A poignant memoir chronicling Henry’s battle with psychosis and mental illness, “The Tunnel” is Tripp Friedler’s personal account of their family’s desperate search for answers, treatments and help across the United States. As Henry’s war with bipolar disorder waxes and wanes, we realize just how insidious this disease is. Like riding a roller coaster without seeing the next twist or turn, the floor drops beneath their feet right when they least expect it, and they’re caught unaware, desperately trying to regain their footing.
Tripp’s straightforward writing style enables the weight of his emotions to remain front and center throughout the book. His steady storytelling reflects his despair and adds to our mounting sense of dread as “The Tunnel” progresses, and Henry’s erratic behavior can no longer be denied.
With unflinching honesty, Tripp does not deny his flaws. With hindsight, he’s upfront about what he would have done differently. His openness in admitting the initial shame, denial, and emotional toll mental illness has taken on his family is admirable. To say they’re courageous goes without saying, yet it trivializes how they coped and surpassed this adversity as a family. Many would have succumbed to the pressures and fallen apart at the seams.
As Tripp comes to accept that Henry is suffering from an illness they can’t help him fight, we also confront the realities of our own parental limitations. When our children are young, we have all the answers. We’re all they need. This changes as they become adults, and we become bystanders in their lives. The law doesn’t recognize our role, seeing it as mere interference. Tripp’s powerlessness to help his son is gripping, gut-wrenching, and all too relatable. His realization of his secondary role shatters our own illusions that our children need us to fight their demons, and his frankness becomes the perfect complement to the rawness and honesty of his experience.
It’s heartbreaking to realize just how much the system fails in supporting people with mental illness. Tripp’s story is more than one family’s resilience and experience, it’s an urgent call to action toward something larger. For those who don’t have the resources of the Friedler family, the implications of cyclic injustice and systemic complexities are catastrophic. The urgent need for not just mental health care but also mental health education in scholastic, medical, and penal institutions is painfully apparent. As our awareness of mental health and its importance increases so, too, do our abilities to provide, navigate and seek support.
Candid and captivating, “The Tunnel” by Tripp Friedler is eloquent and powerful in its portrayal of the impacts of love, perseverance, and family. Throughout Henry’s struggles, his parents and loved ones never lost faith in him and his ability to conquer his illness. Their love isn’t spoken, only shown. And such a story will never fail to move us.
Though Henry’s future remains unfulfilled, his spirit lives on. Through “The Tunnel,” Henry’s life will continue to touch and transfigure those who read about it. For this, and all those I’ve mentioned above, this book is a must-read.
Trigger Warning: This book is about mental illness and mental health conditions such as depression, bipolar disorder, anxiety, suicide, and psychosis. It contains details of personal experiences, symptoms, and treatment methods that some may find distressing or confronting. If you, or someone you know, are suffering from mental illness, you are not alone. Reach out to a trusted individual or mental health expert through:
– The Suicide and Crisis Hotline, text or call 988 – The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273- TALK (8255), or – Text “HELLO” to 74174.
You can also explore online resources through Mental Health America or the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI).
The Tunnel is Tripp Friedler’s story of loving his son, Henry, who died in December 2020 by suicide as a result of bipolar disorder. Friedler is still coming to terms with how he loved his son as a child, as an adolescent when symptoms began to emerge, as a young adult when mental illness took over, and what it means to love him in death. The highlights are when Friedler recalls moments of joy he shared with Henry, because the reader can almost feel those memories healing Friedler. Whether Henry is flashing a smile from high above a trampoline or hugging his father after months of barely speaking, the connection between father and son is palpable.
Having no doubt of the love between them and knowing what it is like to love someone with bipolar disorder made it difficult to read passages in which Friedler questions if he could have done more or if different actions on his part might have meant a different outcome for his son. Friedler tries to be objective and is particularly effective when describing Henry’s encounters with academic, healthcare, and judicial systems that are designed to prioritize profit over people, and how it was only the ability to pay that meant Henry even had a fighting chance in those systems. Friedler is brutally honest about his need for a sense of control, difficulty accepting Henry’s diagnosis, and how denial was counterproductive. However, Friedler judges himself much too harshly and takes on blame that belongs only on the disease. This is perfectly normal, yet I hope Friedler will grow more compassionate towards himself with time.
Having lost my sister to suicide made reading The Tunnel especially beautiful and painful because of its authenticity. In addition to my compassion for Friedler (and his wife, who I trust is a fully human version of the saint he paints her to be), I found myself wanting to reach out to Friedler’s two daughters, because there is very little support for those whose sibling is living with mental illness or for bereaved siblings (regardless of cause of death). I finished the book grateful for Friedler’s ability to find meaning in life while he continues to grieve his son’s death. I am hopeful this book will help others who must live through similar grief journeys.
Thank you to Trost Publishing, the Independent Book Publishers Association, and NetGalley for the privilege of reading a DRC of The Tunnel. All opinions are my own.
The Tunnel is a powerful, thought-provoking book that will be relevant for anyone dealing with mental health issues in their family...which means pretty much anyone with a family.
The book is first and foremost a good read...well-paced and taut, making it more of a "page-turner" than you might expect given the subject matter. And while it is a very personal, intimate account, it is not overwrought or self-indulgent. It brings a brave, introspective viewpoint, acknowledging the difficulty and importance of seeing these challenges through the eyes of others.
The Tunnel highlights the seemingly overwhelming odyssey of navigating our mental health system and culture, reminding us how little we really know about the brain today, both in diagnosis and treatment. While this could come off as disheartening, it actually provides a sense that "we're not alone." And its retrospective view brings a message of acceptance and survival...that it is possible to make it through the tunnel.
If only mental illness was treated as an illness by community and our government with scaffolding for people - specifically children and young adults - more families wouldn’t suffer alone and would have more support. This is the message of Tripp Friedler’s gripping memoir about his son Henry’s complicated life and death from the bi-polar disorder that he struggled against.
The tale in THE TUNNEL shares Henry’s story and also the story of a marriage and family who worked valiantly to save him, despite the odds.
All of the proceeds are being donated to help others who need support.
I can’t necessarily say that I enjoyed this book because it certainly deals with tragedy; however, I thought it did so in an incredibly poignant way. This book delved into the themes of family, mental illness, and loss. The culmination of the overarching metaphor of the tunnel, and how it tied into him and his son’s car trips through the Mobile Alabama provided a nice sense of hopefulness to conclude the novel. Other than that, there isn’t much more to say, since this was such a hard book to get through because of the heavy subject and fact that this was a memoir and not fiction.
If you want to know what it feels like to watch someone you love be torn apart by mental illness, read this book. Tripp Friedler does a masterful — and heroic — job of having his readers feel every hope raised and dashed and raised again. What a gift.