Emmett Rensin's The Complications, On Going Insane in America reads like a harrowing personal account interwoven with profound meditations on the nature of madness. His reflections are vivid, often raw, and entirely unflinching. Rensin's descriptions of mental illness draw the reader into the unsettling, quiet chaos of the experience—what it feels like when madness seeps in unnoticed, like "a cat burglar" moving through your psyche in the night, gradually altering reality itself. His voice is compelling, notably in his vivid accounts, such as the moment he recalls driving toward a freeway median because God had instructed him to die, or when he finds himself standing over a stranger's bed, having broken into their home. These scenes are unforgettable, capturing the frailty and unpredictability of the mind unraveling. Rensin’s writing is poetic and unapologetic, forcing the reader to confront the uncomfortable, often surreal aspects of losing touch with reality.
Possible Spoilers
He writes "We are talking here about what you'd expect might happen if some 1/100th of the population, already varied and limited, variously flawed, woke up one day and found out that they were coming apart at the seams. What would happen if they became frightened by sudden, new impulses, and more frightened by their sudden inability to control that. What would happen if they realized that their memories had gone shaky, that's something had gone slow inside their brain, that people around them didn't act the same, didn't look the same, might be imposters, that they were suddenly sad or paranoid, angry or confused."
His experiences challenge the conventional ways we think about mental illness, exposing the tension between the person in crisis and the limited tools society has to help them.
Rensin’s brilliance as a writer shines through in his sharp critiques of "well-intentioned liberals" and the mental health systems he encounters. His reflections on a wilderness retreat in Georgia at age 17, where he was left to fend for himself in nature for up to six months and writes "the program is very bullish on the notion that emotional states are a consequence of belief structures, something they have cribbed without context from cognitive behavioral therapy. There is less guidance than whether we ought to adjust our responses, or are underlying beliefs, or both, or neither, or how much adjustments might be made." and later writes "I have spoken to many people who attended this program and programs like it in the decade and a half since I have left. You wonder while you are there, who in the group has bought in and who is just cooperating as a means of hiding in plain sight. What you discover, after a while, is that there is little difference between these two states. Many of the people I've spoken to cannot say which they were doing. I'm not sure what I did. The program is aware of this ambivalence. They know that if you want to believe in god, you start by kneeling." His philosophical reflections on this experience reveal the ways in which belief structures can be manipulated, especially in environments of vulnerability, and can create reality.
There are moments in The Complications where Rensin's perspective becomes unsettling, particularly in his views on justice and activism for the mentally ill. He expresses a disillusionment with traditional forms of advocacy, marches or legislation with statements that can be jarring. His critique of de-escalation tactics, particularly his jabs at the liberal activists working to fight stigma and ableism, adds another layer of complexity to the book. He seems skeptical of their efforts, questioning whether they truly understand the needs of the mentally ill or if they are simply projecting their own desire for recognition and representation. His sarcastic remark about setting up a "recurring donation" for advocacy suggests a deep frustration with performative allyship. However, this skepticism leaves readers in a difficult position—while he effectively highlights the shortcomings of current efforts, he doesn’t seem offer a clear alternative - that is not his aim "I am just a writer". The ambiguity leaves the reader questioning whether Rensin believes any real progress can be made at all or if society is doomed to keep spinning its wheels. His critical eye forces a reassessment of what truly helps those with severe mental illnesses, but his lack of concrete solutions leaves us with more ??? For example, he doesn't seem particularly supportive of de-escalation teaching for police officers (again promoted by "well intentioned liberals") dealing with the mentally ill but then later writes "I still feel safer… with an unmedicated lunatic than I do with an armed American cop." That is both sad and hard to believe.
When the author reveals, "the National Alliance on Mental Illness says on their website that the association of schizophrenia and violence is a dangerous myth... they say, the majority of violent crimes aren't committed by schizophrenics," he follows up with biting sarcasm: "And that's true. Schizophrenics make up less than 2% of the population. They are not committing 51% of the violent crimes." By pointing this out, Rensin seems to be drawing attention to how this is misleading. But the question still lingers—what exactly is he getting at? Of course, with such a small population size, it would be absurd to suggest they commit the majority of violent crimes!!! Well does he mean that it is more likely this 2% of "the mad" is responsible for say 10-20% of violent crimes? Is he making fun of allies? Yes, sure, this no-profit group is misleading us, we get it, but it is the kind of thing that helps this community, right? Who's side is he on? Or is there a side? Is that the point of his comment? It seems naïve to assume that organizations like the National Alliance on Mental Illness would always present the full truth, after all, they have a side. I know he is just writing and not for a purpose (of changing the world, in his words), but it is the writing I am talking about.
Rensin’s frustration is evident, particularly in how he contrasts the challenges faced by those with severe conditions like schizoaffective disorder with the more common struggles of those "Adderall-addled millennial strivers." (so are we going to make fun of them now?) It seems like he's is belittling these Gen X political activists who are trying to march against mental health stigma. These allies according to the author "are just trying to project that there is another group with needs", and this group needs representation, the mad need help "so why not set up a recurring donation?" I'm not sure I understand this since these are the people who are trying to help. Rensin seems to acknowledge that, regardless of the approach taken, the cost will be substantial and the mentally ill will inevitably place a strain on the system—and it will be obvious to readers that Rensin himself is weighed down by this reality.
The other reality is he knows that madman are often dangerously mad. "Some lunatics are richer than others. Some lunatics are luckier than others. Some lunatics have sat for a long time with a knife and weighed their options. Some used it. Some didn't. That’s' all." He is one of these.
But the "well-meaning liberals" only want to hear from those "respectable lunatics" or "the right kind of madman", the kind that provides an opportunity for understanding and sympathy by not being too dangerously mad. He is a realist, it is all very real after all, how he threatened those friends whom he suspected of stealing his scarf, and other stories, all real.
He then asks readers "do you still like me enough to offer your understanding?" Yes and no. I wanted to give it 4 stars since it is so exhausting, an absolutely exhausting read, but so well written and a worthy/necessary addition to our literature on mental health. So I am now a big fan. It is also very very complicated, so a great name!