Fifty Minutes is the product of a 90-day writing course, which is genuinely impressive as a means of completing a long writing project. However, there's been a rush to publish for the easy-to-read summertime market because there's a distinct lack of basic research.
To write realistically about a therapy process (a series of sessions makes up the narrative's core), the writer should have a basic understanding of psychotherapeutic practice, including the therapist's orientation. Why didn't the author, for example, consult a psychotherapist to help with this?
This would have significantly helped to avoid the complete confusion represented by Mr. Goode's ludicrous character.
The opening page of Fifty Minutes telegraphs the badness of Mr Goode, a psychotherapist from whom Dani seeks professional help. Having turned up four minutes early for her first session, Dani rejects Goode's offer to sit in his waiting room. As she walks away down the path, Goode waits and implicitly watches Dani in her 'tight jeans'.
Minutes later, Dani returns to find an actively silent Mr Goode. After opening the door, he turns away and "walks down the hallway." More cliched silences dominate Mr Goode's behaviour in the first session, which, as the title suggests, is a way to inform the reader that Dani has entered psychoanalytic practice territory.
However, I don't think the author fully understands this because Goode's unwarranted and untimely silences represent a distorted view of a real analyst's behaviour. A torture made worse by a ticking clock that would not adorn any consulting room!
Mr Goode is an idiotic cardboard cut-out figure—a device for Dani to ridicule periodically. At best, Mr Goode's character represents an extremely poor analyst who also gets the 'confidentiality' rule wrong! But, then, on page 6, Goode declares that he offers 'person-centred psychotherapy', focusing on the 'here and now', which completely baffled me as a psychoanalytic psychotherapist.
The confusion deepens when the psychoanalytic notion of 'transference' keeps popping up later in the story. And Goode refers to Dani as the 'patient' is also non-person-centred or client-centred, as this model is sometimes named. The clue is in the title.
The author is unaware that she's provided Goode with completely opposing therapy models that are either crudely distorted or not evident in practice: a person-centred therapist would also not recognize Goode's interventions.
Throughout Fifty Minutes, there are numerous instances where Goode's behaviour is unrepresentative of the actual practice of a psychotherapist that cannot be explained as part of his character. Good realistic fiction must maintain a firm foothold in reality, and Fifty Minutes fails to do so in its portrayal of Bade, Mr Goode.