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The Evil Hours: A Biography of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
“An essential book” on PTSD, an all-too-common condition in both military veterans and civilians (The New York Times Book Review). Post-traumatic stress disorder afflicts as many as 30 percent of those who have experienced twenty-first-century combat—but it is not confined to soldiers. Countless ordinary Americans also suffer from PTSD, following incidences of abuse, crime, natural disasters, accidents, or other trauma—yet in many cases their symptoms are still shrouded in mystery, secrecy, and shame. This “compulsively readable” study takes an in-depth look at the subject (Los Angeles Times). Written by a war correspondent and former Marine with firsthand experience of this disorder, and drawing on interviews with individuals living with PTSD, it forays into the scientific, literary, and cultural history of the illness. Using a rich blend of reporting and memoir, The Evil Hours is a moving work that will speak not only to those with the condition and to their loved ones, but also to all of us struggling to make sense of an anxious and uncertain time.
354 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 20, 2015
178 people are currently reading
3381 people want to read
About the author
David J. Morris
28 books19 followersDave Morris is a San Diego-based writer, photographer and teacher. A former Marine infantry officer, he has covered the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan for Slate, Salon and the Virginia Quarterly Review since 2003. His 2006 dispatch from Iraq, titled “The Big Suck: Notes from the Jarhead Underground’ was included in the Best American Nonrequired Reading series.
His writing has been featured on National Public Radio’s “Talk of the Nation,” and he continues to contribute to numerous print and digital publications including The New Yorker online, The Surfer’s Journal and Foreign Policy’s “Best Defense” blog.
In 2008, he was awarded a creative nonfiction fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts as well as residencies at The MacDowell Colony and the Norman Mailer Writers Colony in Provincetown, Massachusetts. In 2009, he won the Staige D. Blackford Award for nonfiction writing from the Virginia Quarterly Review.
His writing has been featured on National Public Radio’s “Talk of the Nation,” and he continues to contribute to numerous print and digital publications including The New Yorker online, The Surfer’s Journal and Foreign Policy’s “Best Defense” blog.
In 2008, he was awarded a creative nonfiction fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts as well as residencies at The MacDowell Colony and the Norman Mailer Writers Colony in Provincetown, Massachusetts. In 2009, he won the Staige D. Blackford Award for nonfiction writing from the Virginia Quarterly Review.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 128 reviews
July 23, 2017
Honestly did not expect the book to be as good as it turned out to be. I have this assumption problem where things that shouldn't be indicative of anything some how are meaningful to me and so I saw that it was called The Evil Hours and I thought it was going to be melodramatic and self involved. In truth though the author did such a good job of putting together his own experiences within the larger context of PTSD through out history, other people's experiences, and the present. It was very poignant and insightful about what it feels like to have PTSD. He also gave a good amount of detail about the various treatment options available though I don't think it was fair to disqualify immersion therapy based on his own experiences and those of a few others. I do understand his point that focusing on one aspect of PTSD whether it's the biological one or the psychoanalytic obsession with childhood is pointless though. I really enjoyed this book though, I would totally recommend it to anyone who likes reading non fiction or wants to learn more about PTSD.
April 26, 2016
I do not personally suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder, nor does anyone in my family. But my interest in the subject was piqued after my own brush with trauma. I read The Evil Hours, David Morris’s “biography” of PTSD for a specific reason. I was interested in the human ability to keep going, even in the face of enormous suffering and tragedy. Life doesn’t allow anyone to get away without pain, so I thought it instructive to learn about people who’ve seen the very worst.
All kinds of people suffer from PTSD, from soldiers to rape survivors to accident victims. It is an insidious kind of ailment, one that deeply warps your perception of the world. Symptoms include flashbacks, nightmares, avoidance, emotional numbness, depression, anxiety, hyper-awareness, and labile mood. These are the clinical manifestations, at least. But as Morris writes, there is something more involved; indeed, that a “trauma destroys the fabric of time.”
The Evil Hours takes a hybrid approach to its subject. In part, it is a history of a disease. A couple chapters trace the antecedents of PTSD all the way back to ancient times. Some skeptics believe PTSD to be a modern invention, a creation. Morris clearly disagrees. He finds some of the symptoms in writings that stretch back to the time of Homer. At one point, he tugs on a fascinating thread, proposing that the violence of the postwar American West might have been exacerbated by hundreds, if not thousands, of Civil War veterans dealing with the aftershocks of a cataclysmic war. Morris does not really argue the notion, but it is a very interesting thought experiment.
The systemic study of post-traumatic distress began more or less in the early 20th century. In World War I, they called it “shell shock,” from the theory that the concussions from exploding artillery caused the mental disorders striking so many troops. In World War II, it was known as “battle fatigue” or “combat fatigue.” The diagnosis did know make it into the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual – a Bible of sorts, for psychiatrists – until 1980, pushed in large measure by Vietnam veterans and their treating physicians.
The Evil Hours is also a work of journalism. It devotes space to the different treatments involved, from counseling to drugs to non-traditional (and in some cases highly effective) therapies such as yoga. I found the chapter on medication to be especially intriguing in its discussion of the drug propranolol, a beta blocker that blocks adrenaline. In theory:
There is a catch to propranolol in terms of timing. It needs to be administered within six hours of the traumatic event. It also dulls a person’s normal flight-or-fight responses, meaning soldiers might suddenly become ineffective and defenseless. However, as Morris writes, there are more profound implications. Your life is only as big as your memory allows. The use of propranolol works to “shrink reality.” Does the cost outweigh the benefit? It is both a medical and a philosophical question that embodies something very fundamental about our humanity.
Aside from being a work of history and journalism, The Evil Hours is also a memoir. Throughout the book, Morris interlaces his own experiences with his broader survey of PTSD. Morris began suffering post-traumatic symptoms after time spent as a war correspondent in Iraq. His personal interjections suffuse what otherwise might have been dry sections with a raw intimacy. His book brims with compassion and empathy. This experiential approach is especially effective in the chapter on therapy. Rather than simply describing the various methods (including PE or prolonged exposure therapy, where a person is made to continually relive the traumatic event), Morris is able to walk into a VA, fill out reams of paperwork, and engage in the therapy himself.
We have come to a point where PTSD has gained a pretty universal acceptance. It is no longer derided as a symptom of cowardice or mental weakness. Now, it is a thing to be reckoned. The next time a politician stands up on stage and pounds a podium and shouts we need to go to war, we have to go to war, PTSD has to be taken into account. It is not just lives ended, limbs lost, dollars spent; the cost now includes memories forever altered.
All kinds of people suffer from PTSD, from soldiers to rape survivors to accident victims. It is an insidious kind of ailment, one that deeply warps your perception of the world. Symptoms include flashbacks, nightmares, avoidance, emotional numbness, depression, anxiety, hyper-awareness, and labile mood. These are the clinical manifestations, at least. But as Morris writes, there is something more involved; indeed, that a “trauma destroys the fabric of time.”
In normal time, you move from one moment to the next, sunrise to sunset, birth to death. After trauma, you may move in circles, find yourself being sucked backwards into an eddy, or bouncing like a rubber ball from now to then and back again…Another odd feature of traumatic time is that it doesn’t just destroy the flow of the present into the future, it corrodes everything that came before, eating at moments and people from your previous life, until you can’t remember why any of them mattered.
The Evil Hours takes a hybrid approach to its subject. In part, it is a history of a disease. A couple chapters trace the antecedents of PTSD all the way back to ancient times. Some skeptics believe PTSD to be a modern invention, a creation. Morris clearly disagrees. He finds some of the symptoms in writings that stretch back to the time of Homer. At one point, he tugs on a fascinating thread, proposing that the violence of the postwar American West might have been exacerbated by hundreds, if not thousands, of Civil War veterans dealing with the aftershocks of a cataclysmic war. Morris does not really argue the notion, but it is a very interesting thought experiment.
The systemic study of post-traumatic distress began more or less in the early 20th century. In World War I, they called it “shell shock,” from the theory that the concussions from exploding artillery caused the mental disorders striking so many troops. In World War II, it was known as “battle fatigue” or “combat fatigue.” The diagnosis did know make it into the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual – a Bible of sorts, for psychiatrists – until 1980, pushed in large measure by Vietnam veterans and their treating physicians.
The Evil Hours is also a work of journalism. It devotes space to the different treatments involved, from counseling to drugs to non-traditional (and in some cases highly effective) therapies such as yoga. I found the chapter on medication to be especially intriguing in its discussion of the drug propranolol, a beta blocker that blocks adrenaline. In theory:
[I]f you were to administer propranolol to a person a few hours after a traumatic event, you would block the neurological process that would otherwise cause that memory to become traumatic. In the language of neuroscience, you would prevent its “overconsolidation” within the brain and prevent the event from being permanently etched into the amygdala, one of the brain’s fear centers…The experience would be remembered much like any other event was remembered – without the elevated heart rate, without the shortness of breath, and without the amygdala being unduly impacted. A serious car crash would be rendered identical to a trip to the coffee shop, neurologically speaking.
There is a catch to propranolol in terms of timing. It needs to be administered within six hours of the traumatic event. It also dulls a person’s normal flight-or-fight responses, meaning soldiers might suddenly become ineffective and defenseless. However, as Morris writes, there are more profound implications. Your life is only as big as your memory allows. The use of propranolol works to “shrink reality.” Does the cost outweigh the benefit? It is both a medical and a philosophical question that embodies something very fundamental about our humanity.
Aside from being a work of history and journalism, The Evil Hours is also a memoir. Throughout the book, Morris interlaces his own experiences with his broader survey of PTSD. Morris began suffering post-traumatic symptoms after time spent as a war correspondent in Iraq. His personal interjections suffuse what otherwise might have been dry sections with a raw intimacy. His book brims with compassion and empathy. This experiential approach is especially effective in the chapter on therapy. Rather than simply describing the various methods (including PE or prolonged exposure therapy, where a person is made to continually relive the traumatic event), Morris is able to walk into a VA, fill out reams of paperwork, and engage in the therapy himself.
We have come to a point where PTSD has gained a pretty universal acceptance. It is no longer derided as a symptom of cowardice or mental weakness. Now, it is a thing to be reckoned. The next time a politician stands up on stage and pounds a podium and shouts we need to go to war, we have to go to war, PTSD has to be taken into account. It is not just lives ended, limbs lost, dollars spent; the cost now includes memories forever altered.
April 16, 2021
Cu intenția de a sintetiza diferitele perspective din care poate fi abordat domeniul, cred că e o bună introducere și am ajuns la o altă înțelegere asupra subiectului (stres postraumatic cauzat de răboi) - pe care nu îmi era ușor să-l abordez din cauza anumitor prejudecăți.
„The shaman, a figure who emerged during the Upper Paleolithic period, had a broad, loosely defined role within tribal society. Anthropologist Joan Halifax, describing shamans in her book Shamanic Voices, saw them as “healers, seers, and visionaries who have mastered death.” Initiation into this sacred caste required that applicants survive a direct experience of death or passage through an extreme terrain of the psyche. Such boundary crossings or experiences of being “catapulted into the territory of death” were thought to grant the potential shaman special knowledge of “the inner workings of human crisis,” a knowledge which could be applied to the treatment of other sufferers.
A Caribou shaman known as Igjugarjuk told the Arctic explorer Knud Rasmussen that “all true wisdom is only to be learned far from the dwellings of men, out in the great solitudes; and is only to be attained through suffering. Privation and suffering are the only things that can open the mind of man to those things which are hidden from others.” In other words, trauma, which obviously leads to great pain, can also lead to deeper knowledge about human existence.
As an experience at the boundary between life and death, trauma holds within it the potential for wisdom, a formulation one almost never hears today.
Thinking about the question of trauma mythically for a moment, it is tempting to wonder if, on a certain level, what we call PTSD doesn’t represent an incomplete passage from the underworld of death and darkness back to a more fully realized consciousness of one’s role in the universe, a knowledge of the hugeness of existence and of the value of safety and comfort and social connectedness.
The moral universe he’d inhabited for the first nineteen years of his life essentially ceased to exist. Virtually everything he assumed to be true and right and just came to an end in that moment.
The urge to reinvent one’s moral and physical universe through travel is so common that some students of trauma think it might be biological. Laurence Gonzales, a National Geographic writer who has written extensively on the science of survival, wrote that “travel is a time-honored strategy for healing. It forces the unconscious reorganization of a number of areas of the brain, especially those involving the hippocampus, which has the special function of creating spatial maps. Every time you travel to an unfamiliar environment, your brain undergoes an important transformation.” The
Some researchers look at nightmares as playing a potentially beneficial, integrative role, helping the survivor to make sense of what happened or to construct meaning out of the chaos of war and other traumatic events.
These types of obsessions and revisitations all highlight the degree to which many survivors remain in a liminal state, alternating between now and then, between here and there.
The language barrier, this inability on the part of the untraumatized to understand the existence of a place like No Man’s Land, further alienates the survivor.
“As a man who had lived for years in No-Man’s-Land, he knew the nation and its pathologies from an exterior perspective.”
A traumatized person, in his view, no longer believes, or has an intellectual understanding, that the world is a dangerous place, but instead feels its danger and menace in a profound way. Over time, such people find themselves deeply at odds with the rest of the world. The survivor may feel trapped inside the moment of maximum danger, unable to escape its force. The present has ceased to exist.
Carr argues that intersubjectivity, with its focus on empathy, the unique emotional life of the patient, and helping the patient find a “relational home,” is an extraordinarily powerful therapy.
Like all psychodynamic therapies, intersubjectivity relies more on the art of therapy than the science, which forces the therapist to focus more energy on developing a connection with the patient.
Life is meaningless without suffering, but there comes a time when you have to accept the fact that not all pain is purifying or ennobling and that numbing out and isolating yourself from the world is counterproductive and destructive to yourself and your loved ones.
In the never-ending arms race between technology and ethics, technology always wins. Researchers who tally the results of this immortal race have a name for it: history.
The fact is that for many people, Western talk therapies do not work for post-traumatic stress. Modern psychotherapy, partially inspired by the Freudian ideal of catharsis via verbiage, is in some ways the last thing some people need.
As an alternative to mainstream talk therapy, yoga stands out as a uniquely effective treatment, precisely because it insists that people shut up and start listening to their bodies.
In shamanic societies, which represent some of the world’s oldest healing traditions, healers were often trauma survivors themselves. Wisdom was presumed to flow from the experience of surviving into the healer’s thought process. In the West today, the opposite is true. It is the most protected, the most insulated, the most innocent who are presumed to be the most knowledgeable about loss, terror, and moral chaos.
Trauma destroys the normal narrative of life, and trying to put the pieces together into a story is, in many ways, the ultimate act of healing, the way we know that a certain perspective has been achieved.
Writing is a form of concentrated thinking, a type of directed meditation, and it can serve as a powerful way of reclaiming and asserting control over one’s past, of locating and processing emotions in a way that risks no embarrassment or shame.
Immobility, powerlessness in the face of death, is often what most vexes the psyche.
After a follow-up study of hundreds of trauma survivors, Tedeschi was able to boil these positive developments down to three general “domains”: a changed perception of the self, a changed sense of one’s social relations, and a changed philosophy of life. As Tedeschi wrote, “It is in the realm of existential, and for some persons, of spiritual or religious matters that the most significant post-traumatic growth may be experienced.”
“Posttraumatic stress disorder is not necessarily indicative of an absence of psychological growth and maturation. These two different types of outcome cannot, therefore, be conceptualized as two ends of the same continuum; they are not necessarily characteristic of two different types of individuals.”
He studied prisoners of war who did not, despite the traumas they endured, develop PTSD, and he identified a number of critical psychological elements that led to their resilience: altruism, having a solid moral compass, spiritual faith, having a role model, social support, confronting one’s fears, and seeing oneself as having a mission in life. The key predictor of who would bounce back from the ordeal and who would not was a sense of optimism.
In fact, a substantial portion of the post-traumatic growth literature is derived from studies of exceptional populations, like the American POWs from Vietnam and other POW cohorts.
The war was awful, but it was like a refuge from real life in a lot of ways. Certain things were harder over there, but certain things were easier. In death’s lengthening shadow, your life shrinks down to a few, very important concerns. You don’t have to worry about how you look, for instance. Fretting over the kind of car you drive seems like the height of folly. In a strange way, you are free. The only thing you can lose is your life. Living out of a backpack for months, I learned that I didn’t need very much to be happy. I learned that most people waste their lives obsessing over consumer items that serve no real purpose.
But the war also gave me knowledge that I don’t know how to live with. It taught me that the world is a dangerous place. That death is random. That governments lie as a matter of course. That time is elastic. That terror is relative. That truth is local, tribal even.
That the closer you get to death, the harder it is to know anything for sure. ”
„The shaman, a figure who emerged during the Upper Paleolithic period, had a broad, loosely defined role within tribal society. Anthropologist Joan Halifax, describing shamans in her book Shamanic Voices, saw them as “healers, seers, and visionaries who have mastered death.” Initiation into this sacred caste required that applicants survive a direct experience of death or passage through an extreme terrain of the psyche. Such boundary crossings or experiences of being “catapulted into the territory of death” were thought to grant the potential shaman special knowledge of “the inner workings of human crisis,” a knowledge which could be applied to the treatment of other sufferers.
A Caribou shaman known as Igjugarjuk told the Arctic explorer Knud Rasmussen that “all true wisdom is only to be learned far from the dwellings of men, out in the great solitudes; and is only to be attained through suffering. Privation and suffering are the only things that can open the mind of man to those things which are hidden from others.” In other words, trauma, which obviously leads to great pain, can also lead to deeper knowledge about human existence.
As an experience at the boundary between life and death, trauma holds within it the potential for wisdom, a formulation one almost never hears today.
Thinking about the question of trauma mythically for a moment, it is tempting to wonder if, on a certain level, what we call PTSD doesn’t represent an incomplete passage from the underworld of death and darkness back to a more fully realized consciousness of one’s role in the universe, a knowledge of the hugeness of existence and of the value of safety and comfort and social connectedness.
The moral universe he’d inhabited for the first nineteen years of his life essentially ceased to exist. Virtually everything he assumed to be true and right and just came to an end in that moment.
The urge to reinvent one’s moral and physical universe through travel is so common that some students of trauma think it might be biological. Laurence Gonzales, a National Geographic writer who has written extensively on the science of survival, wrote that “travel is a time-honored strategy for healing. It forces the unconscious reorganization of a number of areas of the brain, especially those involving the hippocampus, which has the special function of creating spatial maps. Every time you travel to an unfamiliar environment, your brain undergoes an important transformation.” The
Some researchers look at nightmares as playing a potentially beneficial, integrative role, helping the survivor to make sense of what happened or to construct meaning out of the chaos of war and other traumatic events.
These types of obsessions and revisitations all highlight the degree to which many survivors remain in a liminal state, alternating between now and then, between here and there.
The language barrier, this inability on the part of the untraumatized to understand the existence of a place like No Man’s Land, further alienates the survivor.
“As a man who had lived for years in No-Man’s-Land, he knew the nation and its pathologies from an exterior perspective.”
A traumatized person, in his view, no longer believes, or has an intellectual understanding, that the world is a dangerous place, but instead feels its danger and menace in a profound way. Over time, such people find themselves deeply at odds with the rest of the world. The survivor may feel trapped inside the moment of maximum danger, unable to escape its force. The present has ceased to exist.
Carr argues that intersubjectivity, with its focus on empathy, the unique emotional life of the patient, and helping the patient find a “relational home,” is an extraordinarily powerful therapy.
Like all psychodynamic therapies, intersubjectivity relies more on the art of therapy than the science, which forces the therapist to focus more energy on developing a connection with the patient.
Life is meaningless without suffering, but there comes a time when you have to accept the fact that not all pain is purifying or ennobling and that numbing out and isolating yourself from the world is counterproductive and destructive to yourself and your loved ones.
In the never-ending arms race between technology and ethics, technology always wins. Researchers who tally the results of this immortal race have a name for it: history.
The fact is that for many people, Western talk therapies do not work for post-traumatic stress. Modern psychotherapy, partially inspired by the Freudian ideal of catharsis via verbiage, is in some ways the last thing some people need.
As an alternative to mainstream talk therapy, yoga stands out as a uniquely effective treatment, precisely because it insists that people shut up and start listening to their bodies.
In shamanic societies, which represent some of the world’s oldest healing traditions, healers were often trauma survivors themselves. Wisdom was presumed to flow from the experience of surviving into the healer’s thought process. In the West today, the opposite is true. It is the most protected, the most insulated, the most innocent who are presumed to be the most knowledgeable about loss, terror, and moral chaos.
Trauma destroys the normal narrative of life, and trying to put the pieces together into a story is, in many ways, the ultimate act of healing, the way we know that a certain perspective has been achieved.
Writing is a form of concentrated thinking, a type of directed meditation, and it can serve as a powerful way of reclaiming and asserting control over one’s past, of locating and processing emotions in a way that risks no embarrassment or shame.
Immobility, powerlessness in the face of death, is often what most vexes the psyche.
After a follow-up study of hundreds of trauma survivors, Tedeschi was able to boil these positive developments down to three general “domains”: a changed perception of the self, a changed sense of one’s social relations, and a changed philosophy of life. As Tedeschi wrote, “It is in the realm of existential, and for some persons, of spiritual or religious matters that the most significant post-traumatic growth may be experienced.”
“Posttraumatic stress disorder is not necessarily indicative of an absence of psychological growth and maturation. These two different types of outcome cannot, therefore, be conceptualized as two ends of the same continuum; they are not necessarily characteristic of two different types of individuals.”
He studied prisoners of war who did not, despite the traumas they endured, develop PTSD, and he identified a number of critical psychological elements that led to their resilience: altruism, having a solid moral compass, spiritual faith, having a role model, social support, confronting one’s fears, and seeing oneself as having a mission in life. The key predictor of who would bounce back from the ordeal and who would not was a sense of optimism.
In fact, a substantial portion of the post-traumatic growth literature is derived from studies of exceptional populations, like the American POWs from Vietnam and other POW cohorts.
The war was awful, but it was like a refuge from real life in a lot of ways. Certain things were harder over there, but certain things were easier. In death’s lengthening shadow, your life shrinks down to a few, very important concerns. You don’t have to worry about how you look, for instance. Fretting over the kind of car you drive seems like the height of folly. In a strange way, you are free. The only thing you can lose is your life. Living out of a backpack for months, I learned that I didn’t need very much to be happy. I learned that most people waste their lives obsessing over consumer items that serve no real purpose.
But the war also gave me knowledge that I don’t know how to live with. It taught me that the world is a dangerous place. That death is random. That governments lie as a matter of course. That time is elastic. That terror is relative. That truth is local, tribal even.
That the closer you get to death, the harder it is to know anything for sure. ”
February 5, 2015
Wow! Left me speechless. Everyone should read this passionate expose -- whether one has PTSD, knows one who has PTSD or cares about America's health or our politics. The cost of war is laid bare despite our cultural deception and obsessive amnesia. Brutal truth-telling! Although focusing on war and veterans -- that's Morris's experience and where funding is available (primarily from the VA and DOD) -- it's easy to see how PTSD ensnares victims of rape and other life-alerting tragedies. I couldn't help but recognize parallels between the VA's handling of PTSD and the Catholic Church's inept defensiveness to sex abuse. A profoundly significant work that should reverberate through our cultural icons bringing us to greater transparency, truth and -- one must hope -- healing!
October 19, 2016
The Evil Hours by David J. Morris is a remarkable piece of scholarship and literature. As a former Marine veteran and war correspondent living and dealing with post-traumatic stress disorder, Morris offers an empowering study of the history and current state of PTSD. His investigations go beyond the battlefield to show how the illness of PTSD haunts survivors of rape, natural disaster, and near-death experiences. This unforgettable "biography" pulls at the heartstrings with its tremendous emotion and testimonial candor. I found myself taking copious notes as I became intensely engaged with the intimacy of the stories, the breadth of the research, and the range of the literature Morris employs to enrich his narrative. He brings every detail and description to life with prose so vivid and rich it takes on a poetic quality. You can feel the pain of trauma as you follow Morris through the history and therapy of PTSD and into the lives of the individuals he champions throughout the book for their resilience and fortitude. This is the type of literary achievement you will appreciate and admire for its humanity and for its ability to help you look at the world and understand it with more compassion.
May 13, 2015
Informative. Insightful. Soulful. Morris has taken on Marlantes' role as an interpreter of war and succeeded admirably. Every person who knows a veteran who has gone to war should read this book. Surprisingly Morris went to war as a journalist and not a Marine. I'm thinking his PTSD experience would be vastly different if he had deployed with his brothers in arms. I don't know if it would have been better or worse. As a journalist he was an outsider. At any rate he has written a great book that sheds light on what exactly PTSD is and what treatments are currently prescribed. It's personal without being self-centered and is a great history of trauma through the ages. He discusses other trauma like rape and acts of God or nature as well. He's a writer now for sure and quite a reader too.
May 23, 2018
This book got better as it went on; I enjoyed the last two chapters the most. The extensive notes are really well worth reading. I thought they added quite a bit of worthwhile context. Things are not clear cut by any means in any area of psychology, but PTSD seems exceptionally murky. Morris is opposed to imbuing every veteran with the wounded broken soldier trope, but recognizes that some folks do come back with behaviors and responses to stimuli that aren't within the realm of normal. Treatments proffered by the VA have varying degrees of efficacy, varying levels of scientific backing, and untold uncaptured effects (positive and negative). This book serves to complicate my understanding of PTSD more than clarify it, but that's necessary. Morris is also quick to acknowledge the gendered limits of VA work on PTSD, and the glaring omission from the research of people traumatized by rape outside of the military. I think anyone with an interest in PTSD, the military, the last 70 years of military history, psychology, or neuroscience will find something to take away from this book.
June 27, 2020
I almost never write reviews about books, but I have to review this. That's how good it is. After another failed telehealth visit with my well-meaning but ineffective therapist, I decided to try something different and frantically searched "Trauma" and "PTSD" in the Libby app-- thank god I did. I keep joking that if every other book I've read about PTSD was a banana peel in the Mario Kart game of life, then this book is a mushroom boost. Truthfully, it is so much more than that, but I cannot articulate how vitally validating, how interesting, informative, and important this book is. If you have PTSD and feel alone-- read this book. If you've been through a handful of therapists, none of whom seem to 'get you,' read this. If your partner has PTSD, read this, write down questions, talk about it. If you're a therapist or social worker with a client who has PTSD, READ THIS. Basically, every one read this. It is enriching and entertaining. It won't change your life by itself, but it will put the keys back in your hands and give you the space to just... go.
July 11, 2018
It was an intriguing read, learning more about PTSD and how the writer experienced it himself when he was in Iraq as a war correspondent. It's interesting how there are so many different treatments that people have recommended for it.
September 28, 2015
this was less about PTSD and more about literature that talked about PTSD or had metaphors or related to PTSD. It was so much more a review of literature about PTSD. Truly frustrating.
September 21, 2022
I wish I had read this book when I was first diagnosed with PTSD. I related to so much and it doesn't mean to be a self help book but I found it to be very useful. I greatly appreciated the different framings of PTSD throughout history and how it has been handled in the professional psych world. It reminded me that psychology isn't always fact but often framed by social and cultural shifts.
August 22, 2023
Beautifully written and thoroughly researched, with a detailed bibliography. Taught me more about myself and my family than years of therapy. I am so grateful this book exists.
December 8, 2023
I don’t have a lot of books about PTSD to compare this too but this seemed well researched and organized. Author did a good job of not getting too deep into medical language and kept it at an understandable level. Really liked how the author talk about the science and then walked you through his experience with each type of treatment plan.
January 25, 2018
As someone who was completely unfamiliar with PTSD and trauma as a whole, I feel much more enlightened about the topic. The book proved to be informational and overall a very enjoyable read.
While the book tells the story about PTSD and trauma, the author also works in his experience as a Marine Corps infantry officer in the late nineties and later his work as a journalist in the heat of the war in the Middle East.
I enjoyed every bit of the book, but the last two chapters were eye opening. While I myself have never experienced trauma, I took the idea of "post-traumatic growth" and made parallels to my own life. After my completion of military boot camp, my life had gone through a radical change in thinking and function. Leaving my past life behind and going through boot camp a little wiser and a little older than most others, the transition was euphoric in a way. Life on the other side as an active duty service member made me reshape my life and look at what was really necessary. I took this "traumatic event" (like I said, not truly traumatic) and grew from it.
‘Okay, this huge thing happened and rather than fight it, I’m gonna let it change my life, in fact, I’m gonna help it change my life. I’m gonna use the momentum of this event to fix things that I think are wrong and try to create things that will take me in a better direction.’”
While the book tells the story about PTSD and trauma, the author also works in his experience as a Marine Corps infantry officer in the late nineties and later his work as a journalist in the heat of the war in the Middle East.
I enjoyed every bit of the book, but the last two chapters were eye opening. While I myself have never experienced trauma, I took the idea of "post-traumatic growth" and made parallels to my own life. After my completion of military boot camp, my life had gone through a radical change in thinking and function. Leaving my past life behind and going through boot camp a little wiser and a little older than most others, the transition was euphoric in a way. Life on the other side as an active duty service member made me reshape my life and look at what was really necessary. I took this "traumatic event" (like I said, not truly traumatic) and grew from it.
‘Okay, this huge thing happened and rather than fight it, I’m gonna let it change my life, in fact, I’m gonna help it change my life. I’m gonna use the momentum of this event to fix things that I think are wrong and try to create things that will take me in a better direction.’”
March 6, 2015
David Morris's book The Evil Hours is subtitled a Biography of Post Traumatic Syndrome. It is that. He has exhaustively researched psychological trauma from war, rape, accident and woven this interesting information into his personal story as a marine and journalist in Iraq. He is critical, but balanced, about criticizing the VA for its handling of traumatized returnees and the public's attitudes. He does an in-depth description of the treatments available for PTSD and his personal experience with some of them. I was surprised to find nearly a dozen typos leap out at me, given that this e-book was traditionally published by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. I could have tolerated another run through by a proofreader. This flaw barely detracts from a well-written personal story. This easy read is recommended for anyone interested in the subject or who wants to learn what the PTSD story is all about.
May 12, 2018
This book was utterly sublime at times - it has one of the best introductions I've ever read. But I think it suffers severely from a lack of disciplined editing, particularly the preliminary chapters, which seemed to meander back and forth on the same ideas without purpose. The long chapter on therapy also suffers, I think, from being a little too close to the author's own experience. The result was that I found it very hard to get through this book. I'm glad I did, but it frustrates me that it could have been so much more.
February 6, 2019
Thoroughly researched and at the same time highly personal, Morris’s book enlightens the reader about the historical, ethical and political aspects of response to trauma. It was much more engaging than the topic might suggest, possibly in part because my reading coincided with my viewing of Amazon Prime’s series “Homecoming” (totally a stroke of serendipity). I finished the book with a profound appreciation for veterans’ challenges during and after their deployments, and a deepened cynicism about governments that are too ready to sacrifice their people in the name of war.
August 30, 2022
Some books make you think, and think, and think, and then some more. David Morris's Evil Hours does that very nicely, enough to rudely interrupt clear thoughts of anything else.
The psychological tentacles of largely war-born PTSD touch many people. Not only combat veterans, but rape victims, fatal accident survivors, and so many others who carry stressful, dramatic, and unshakable instances and images. Many never completely escape their bouts with profound trauma. Some get help, and, unfortunately, too many do not.
Morris addresses as much of this affliction as possible, called by many names until researchers arrived at PTSD in 1980. This book has something for almost everyone because there are numerous PTSD victims, and many know someone who did, or does, have it to some extent. Big city police, emergency room medical staffs, and many others face and deal with their own harmful stress. Research and treatment have grown in recent years, potentially handing Morriss the material to outdo this terrific read with something even stronger.
Parts of Evil Hours read like a NYT bestseller, while a few others lacked the same energy. There's a chance he could be too deep into his topic for any return soon. He experienced his own PTSD when a military vehicle he was riding in was blown up with an IED. As a Marine lieutenant, he also survived additional combat. It is not likely he would be emotionally ready to chance any more PTSD soon.
His research into treatments for the problem was often first-hand, but new paths through PTSD are being found frequently. More information there could be forthcoming somewhere.
My first step-father had serious PTSD from his combat medic days in WWII. I have seen the damage it leaves people with. Some people survive wars, but not the post-war years. The human mind is trained to remember, and that's not always good.
I could recommend Evil Hours for anyone touched directly, or indirectly, by PTSD, but not everyone needs to read it all. Some of the early pages suffer a bit from long chapters, but the continuity will carry the truly interested reader. The final summary chapters are worth the reader's effort.
Morris was seriously unsure of himself, and remained that way. "Was I mad or wise," he wrote in introspect. "Was this loss or insight? Stress or growth? In 2004, these were difficult questions to answer. Ten years later I still don't have the answers."
The psychological tentacles of largely war-born PTSD touch many people. Not only combat veterans, but rape victims, fatal accident survivors, and so many others who carry stressful, dramatic, and unshakable instances and images. Many never completely escape their bouts with profound trauma. Some get help, and, unfortunately, too many do not.
Morris addresses as much of this affliction as possible, called by many names until researchers arrived at PTSD in 1980. This book has something for almost everyone because there are numerous PTSD victims, and many know someone who did, or does, have it to some extent. Big city police, emergency room medical staffs, and many others face and deal with their own harmful stress. Research and treatment have grown in recent years, potentially handing Morriss the material to outdo this terrific read with something even stronger.
Parts of Evil Hours read like a NYT bestseller, while a few others lacked the same energy. There's a chance he could be too deep into his topic for any return soon. He experienced his own PTSD when a military vehicle he was riding in was blown up with an IED. As a Marine lieutenant, he also survived additional combat. It is not likely he would be emotionally ready to chance any more PTSD soon.
His research into treatments for the problem was often first-hand, but new paths through PTSD are being found frequently. More information there could be forthcoming somewhere.
My first step-father had serious PTSD from his combat medic days in WWII. I have seen the damage it leaves people with. Some people survive wars, but not the post-war years. The human mind is trained to remember, and that's not always good.
I could recommend Evil Hours for anyone touched directly, or indirectly, by PTSD, but not everyone needs to read it all. Some of the early pages suffer a bit from long chapters, but the continuity will carry the truly interested reader. The final summary chapters are worth the reader's effort.
Morris was seriously unsure of himself, and remained that way. "Was I mad or wise," he wrote in introspect. "Was this loss or insight? Stress or growth? In 2004, these were difficult questions to answer. Ten years later I still don't have the answers."
June 19, 2025
*4.5
A very unique insight on what PTSD is, how it occurs, what it’s been throughout history, and what’s being done to help those who have it. I was a little apprehensive about the author inserting his personal experiences with PTSD into a NF book that seemed to deal with a heavy scientific subject; however, his insight was really helpful! He had very interesting thoughts about PTSD treatments I found invaluable.
I also found it to be a bit repetitive at times, though that may be more of a function of how recent PTSD as a diagnosis and its treatments are, that the information we do know is sparse but deeply interconnected. I also wished it had a bit more of a historical aspect to it, as I expect a biography normally to have, but I also understand why Vietnam was the central historical focus, rather than a more in-depth “through the ages” approach.
Was a bit of a slog, but that’s partially my own fault for listening to an audiobook on something I’m interested in while at work haha
a side ramble: while I agree with the author that American citizens are very divested from the war machine that they pay into and it’s service members, and that that can cause tension between returning soldiers who feel otherized, and that often exacerbates their trauma. HOWEVER, I do not agree with the author that the fix to that is passing a law that mandates American citizens get closer to that war machine (the examples he uses are re-instating the draft to be permanent or making VA employment a form of national service). I’m pretty anti-mandating anything for citizens (except education and vaccines) but ESPECIALLY mandating any kind of service that forces people into an imperialistic military. There are other solutions, I feel, many of which are more pacifistic, which I do not expect the author, as a combat vet and combat journalist, to share with me. Maybe I am taking that aside a bit disingenuously, but it stuck out to me in a weird way.
CW: war, violence, death, natural disasters, trauma, mental illness, sexual assault/rape
A very unique insight on what PTSD is, how it occurs, what it’s been throughout history, and what’s being done to help those who have it. I was a little apprehensive about the author inserting his personal experiences with PTSD into a NF book that seemed to deal with a heavy scientific subject; however, his insight was really helpful! He had very interesting thoughts about PTSD treatments I found invaluable.
I also found it to be a bit repetitive at times, though that may be more of a function of how recent PTSD as a diagnosis and its treatments are, that the information we do know is sparse but deeply interconnected. I also wished it had a bit more of a historical aspect to it, as I expect a biography normally to have, but I also understand why Vietnam was the central historical focus, rather than a more in-depth “through the ages” approach.
Was a bit of a slog, but that’s partially my own fault for listening to an audiobook on something I’m interested in while at work haha
a side ramble: while I agree with the author that American citizens are very divested from the war machine that they pay into and it’s service members, and that that can cause tension between returning soldiers who feel otherized, and that often exacerbates their trauma. HOWEVER, I do not agree with the author that the fix to that is passing a law that mandates American citizens get closer to that war machine (the examples he uses are re-instating the draft to be permanent or making VA employment a form of national service). I’m pretty anti-mandating anything for citizens (except education and vaccines) but ESPECIALLY mandating any kind of service that forces people into an imperialistic military. There are other solutions, I feel, many of which are more pacifistic, which I do not expect the author, as a combat vet and combat journalist, to share with me. Maybe I am taking that aside a bit disingenuously, but it stuck out to me in a weird way.
CW: war, violence, death, natural disasters, trauma, mental illness, sexual assault/rape
June 14, 2019
This was amazing. I listened to the audio and the narrator did a great job.
What I love most is that this isn't self-help or advice. As Morris makes clear himself, this is a biography of PTSD. He looks at the history of it, the different forms, and different ways people have coped. He doesn't prescribe or try to imply that he has answers. He just lays out a bunch of facts and possibilities and offers ideas without ever trying to act like an expert on it.
What I loved most was that, as a military SO, I could see the issues that my boyfriend and I struggle with being mirrored in others through anecdotes. It helps more than you can imagine just to know you're not alone. It also helped to ease concerns about how many different treatments we have tried without success. Of course, not everything will work for everyone. But sometimes it's hard to accept that and it can be easy to get frustrated.
I don't think I can quite place exactly why this book hit me so hard compared to other books I have read about PTSD. I think it might be because everyone else has tried to tell me what to do in their books and that isn't Morris' intent. He takes a very methodical and objective look at all different aspects and angles and doesn't really claim any one or all of them to be true or untrue. It feels very much like Morris is trying to gather up all of the information he can, lay it our for the reader in an organized manner, and then say, "Here. Take it and do with it what you'd like." which is how I prefer my nonfiction to be.
As I've tried to be supportive of my boyfriend through this, I already know what the books say to try and do. But what I didn't really have was a scientific and historical grasp on PTSD and how it has been portrayed and evolved through time. And that information, I think, has been more useful to me than anything else.
What I love most is that this isn't self-help or advice. As Morris makes clear himself, this is a biography of PTSD. He looks at the history of it, the different forms, and different ways people have coped. He doesn't prescribe or try to imply that he has answers. He just lays out a bunch of facts and possibilities and offers ideas without ever trying to act like an expert on it.
What I loved most was that, as a military SO, I could see the issues that my boyfriend and I struggle with being mirrored in others through anecdotes. It helps more than you can imagine just to know you're not alone. It also helped to ease concerns about how many different treatments we have tried without success. Of course, not everything will work for everyone. But sometimes it's hard to accept that and it can be easy to get frustrated.
I don't think I can quite place exactly why this book hit me so hard compared to other books I have read about PTSD. I think it might be because everyone else has tried to tell me what to do in their books and that isn't Morris' intent. He takes a very methodical and objective look at all different aspects and angles and doesn't really claim any one or all of them to be true or untrue. It feels very much like Morris is trying to gather up all of the information he can, lay it our for the reader in an organized manner, and then say, "Here. Take it and do with it what you'd like." which is how I prefer my nonfiction to be.
As I've tried to be supportive of my boyfriend through this, I already know what the books say to try and do. But what I didn't really have was a scientific and historical grasp on PTSD and how it has been portrayed and evolved through time. And that information, I think, has been more useful to me than anything else.
March 8, 2022
An extensively researched history of PTSD. Mainly centering on combat trauma through the lens of various American wars, such as the Civil War, WW I & II, Vietnam (the war that birthed the diagnosis PTSD) and the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, which the author, a former Marine, reported from as a war correspondent.
Although this is primarily a work of journalism, it's also partly a memoir which gives the otherwise dry narrative an intimate, personal, and raw touch.
"There comes a point in every man’s life when he sees that the magician’s hat is empty, that the government and the church are run by fools, and that virtue is far rarer than he’d been led to believe," Morris writes of his post-9/11 disillusionment. "Since 2004, I have learned to trust people less. I have learned to trust America less. I worry life is completely random, without center or cause...I want a different world. A better, less venal world, one where stupid wars aren't started and then forgotten about when they lose their entertainment value."
Although there's a current of anger and cynicism underneath some of Morris's soliloquies, ultimately this is a work of great compassion. The book ends with Morris sitting in a VA waiting room and him reflecting:
"Looking out over the room, I sit thinking and I wonder which one of them was in Danang, which one of them was in Fallujah, which one of them was in some godawful place in Afghanistan that I've never heard of, which one has a heroin habit that will kill them, a wife who is going to leave them, which one has lost more than they ever knew they had, has paid more for their dreams than I ever paid for mine, and to all of them I say it's okay, it's okay, it's okay."
Although this is primarily a work of journalism, it's also partly a memoir which gives the otherwise dry narrative an intimate, personal, and raw touch.
"There comes a point in every man’s life when he sees that the magician’s hat is empty, that the government and the church are run by fools, and that virtue is far rarer than he’d been led to believe," Morris writes of his post-9/11 disillusionment. "Since 2004, I have learned to trust people less. I have learned to trust America less. I worry life is completely random, without center or cause...I want a different world. A better, less venal world, one where stupid wars aren't started and then forgotten about when they lose their entertainment value."
Although there's a current of anger and cynicism underneath some of Morris's soliloquies, ultimately this is a work of great compassion. The book ends with Morris sitting in a VA waiting room and him reflecting:
"Looking out over the room, I sit thinking and I wonder which one of them was in Danang, which one of them was in Fallujah, which one of them was in some godawful place in Afghanistan that I've never heard of, which one has a heroin habit that will kill them, a wife who is going to leave them, which one has lost more than they ever knew they had, has paid more for their dreams than I ever paid for mine, and to all of them I say it's okay, it's okay, it's okay."
July 17, 2023
10/10 worth buying!
I LOVE how he respects that rape PTSD is equally important to war PTSD. Yes!
The author filled out a sheet that said:
A. The government lies
B. People in power are liars and their lies killed friends of mine
C. I feel sick and helpless about it
Their therapist asked if that was “100% realistic?”
Duuude, me too!
My ex-therapist kept insisting my concerns “weren’t based in reality” even though my concerns have already happened in reality, so YES they ARE based in reality because they already happened!
And now that the Covid Vaccine forced on me (under threat of getting fired) by the government has nearly killed me and HAS killed my friends and the Pfizer papers proved they KNEW - the government lied, killing my friends and nearly killing me - so YES, my concerns ARE 100% realistic!!
He has an interesting take on Propranolol - he worries about it dampening our memories. I used to be on it for heart issues (due to Covid Vaccine) and I definitely don’t think it dampened my memories - certainly not my PTSD! I had no idea it was controversial!
“Therapies like CBT silence trauma survivors, telling them to buck up and forget about all those regrettable events they went through - regrettable events that often resulted from abuses of power.”
(Meaning powerful people weaponize therapy to prevent accountability. YES.)
I LOVE how he respects that rape PTSD is equally important to war PTSD. Yes!
The author filled out a sheet that said:
A. The government lies
B. People in power are liars and their lies killed friends of mine
C. I feel sick and helpless about it
Their therapist asked if that was “100% realistic?”
Duuude, me too!
My ex-therapist kept insisting my concerns “weren’t based in reality” even though my concerns have already happened in reality, so YES they ARE based in reality because they already happened!
And now that the Covid Vaccine forced on me (under threat of getting fired) by the government has nearly killed me and HAS killed my friends and the Pfizer papers proved they KNEW - the government lied, killing my friends and nearly killing me - so YES, my concerns ARE 100% realistic!!
He has an interesting take on Propranolol - he worries about it dampening our memories. I used to be on it for heart issues (due to Covid Vaccine) and I definitely don’t think it dampened my memories - certainly not my PTSD! I had no idea it was controversial!
“Therapies like CBT silence trauma survivors, telling them to buck up and forget about all those regrettable events they went through - regrettable events that often resulted from abuses of power.”
(Meaning powerful people weaponize therapy to prevent accountability. YES.)
May 13, 2016
A few diseases have served as the subject of extensive biographies. Cancer has spawned the book The Emperor Of Maladies. Depression was the subject of the melancholy book The Noonday Demon, part of my Florida library, Since PTSD has a very short history within psychology but a longer one in terms of its ancestry in military history and literature, the author (who himself suffers from PTSD as a result of a near-death experience as an embedded war journalist in Iraq) has chosen wisely in writing about this most curious of diseases. The book is a mysterious one, though, given that it might not be immediately clear what is meant by the evil hours to someone who does not suffer from PTSD. The Evil Hours can refer to the darkness that survivors with PTSD struggle to deal with, the way that the disease eats away time leaving behind many people with lost years that they wish they could recover, and eats away at the sense of time many people have as well. And when one says many people, there are estimates that as many as ten percent of the United States suffers from PTSD, so there is a great deal of company for those who do.
In terms of the contents and structure of the book, this book is organized in nine chapters, after a prologue and introduction that show the writer to not only be a student of PTSD but also someone familiar with it deeply and personally. The first three chapters of the book deal with different aspects of how the disease begins: Saydia, which is where the author himself had a near death experience thanks to Iraqi terrorism, In Terror's Shadow, which looks at the role of terror in making natural disasters, war, and rape the chief origins of PTSD, and Toward a Genealogy of Trauma, which looks at the literature of the Greeks and Mesopotamians, although its strangely neglects the observation of PTSD that can be found in scripture. The Haunted Mind addresses the sorts of difficulties faced, including insomnia, anxiety, depression, hypervigilance, and so on, that are faced by the mind which is dealing with PTSD, and then the author takes a look at modern trauma, including the recognition of the pivotal role of violence and terror against women and the general divorce between civil society and military matters as being pivotal in the growth of recognition for trauma. The next three books then deal in a detailed fashion with therapy, drugs, and alternative treatments (like yoga) for PTSD, which prompts a comparison to Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and a fierce criticism of the clinical bean counting of the VA, before closing with a chapter on the paradoxical reality that PTSD in at least some sufferers has led to growth and insight, even despite everything. At about 275 pages before its lengthy and literate endnotes, this is a book that provides a thought-provoking and worthwhile read.
There is a great deal to like about this book, although it is unlikely that anyone would read this book unless they suffer from PTSD themselves or are close with people who do. The author manages to talk about his own experiences in a way that is not overwhelming, commenting thoughtfully on the need for someone who struggles with PTSD to get help somewhere--whether through deep reading [1], self-examination, therapy, medicine, various alternatives (including MMA), and it is clear that he is empathetic about the struggle against darkness faced by many, and the difficulties that result in life and relationships when people have experiences that simply cannot be assimilated in the social context around them. If this book is too long on Greek thought to the exclusion of biblical truth, is far too approving of New Age and even shamanistic spirituality, and is entirely too approving of the near total absence of literature on male survivors of rape, this is to be expected, if lamented. This is not a perfect book, but nevertheless it offers a great deal of understanding in the lengthy and tangled origins of PTSD, and why it sprang nearly fully armed like Athena from the head of Zeus in the late 1970's and early 1980's among the fallout of Vietnam and drastic social change. It is a worthy read, even with its flaws.
[1] See, for example:
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
In terms of the contents and structure of the book, this book is organized in nine chapters, after a prologue and introduction that show the writer to not only be a student of PTSD but also someone familiar with it deeply and personally. The first three chapters of the book deal with different aspects of how the disease begins: Saydia, which is where the author himself had a near death experience thanks to Iraqi terrorism, In Terror's Shadow, which looks at the role of terror in making natural disasters, war, and rape the chief origins of PTSD, and Toward a Genealogy of Trauma, which looks at the literature of the Greeks and Mesopotamians, although its strangely neglects the observation of PTSD that can be found in scripture. The Haunted Mind addresses the sorts of difficulties faced, including insomnia, anxiety, depression, hypervigilance, and so on, that are faced by the mind which is dealing with PTSD, and then the author takes a look at modern trauma, including the recognition of the pivotal role of violence and terror against women and the general divorce between civil society and military matters as being pivotal in the growth of recognition for trauma. The next three books then deal in a detailed fashion with therapy, drugs, and alternative treatments (like yoga) for PTSD, which prompts a comparison to Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and a fierce criticism of the clinical bean counting of the VA, before closing with a chapter on the paradoxical reality that PTSD in at least some sufferers has led to growth and insight, even despite everything. At about 275 pages before its lengthy and literate endnotes, this is a book that provides a thought-provoking and worthwhile read.
There is a great deal to like about this book, although it is unlikely that anyone would read this book unless they suffer from PTSD themselves or are close with people who do. The author manages to talk about his own experiences in a way that is not overwhelming, commenting thoughtfully on the need for someone who struggles with PTSD to get help somewhere--whether through deep reading [1], self-examination, therapy, medicine, various alternatives (including MMA), and it is clear that he is empathetic about the struggle against darkness faced by many, and the difficulties that result in life and relationships when people have experiences that simply cannot be assimilated in the social context around them. If this book is too long on Greek thought to the exclusion of biblical truth, is far too approving of New Age and even shamanistic spirituality, and is entirely too approving of the near total absence of literature on male survivors of rape, this is to be expected, if lamented. This is not a perfect book, but nevertheless it offers a great deal of understanding in the lengthy and tangled origins of PTSD, and why it sprang nearly fully armed like Athena from the head of Zeus in the late 1970's and early 1980's among the fallout of Vietnam and drastic social change. It is a worthy read, even with its flaws.
[1] See, for example:
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress...
March 26, 2021
David Morris was a battlefield correspondent in Iraq whose personal experience with horrific death and destruction left him with PTSD. In the quest for his own healing, he wrote this book on the history of PTSD and many of the treatment options, both current and past. This former Marine writes about his experiences with the VA (Veteran's Affairs) system, but also gives much scientific, medical, and statistical data.
I didn't really enjoy the first chapter. It seemed on the verge of being one of those books that wanted to just affirm the victim his status as such and never let him rise above it. But afterwards, it became very interesting and I quite enjoyed it, especially the historical aspects of the book. The last little bit of the book delved a bit deep into the pharmacological aspects and his personal treatment plan, and bogged down with the repetition and big words, I wasn't as thrilled with that part either. There is some strong language in quotes. But on the whole, it was a very well put-together book and I did enjoy it and learn from it.
I didn't really enjoy the first chapter. It seemed on the verge of being one of those books that wanted to just affirm the victim his status as such and never let him rise above it. But afterwards, it became very interesting and I quite enjoyed it, especially the historical aspects of the book. The last little bit of the book delved a bit deep into the pharmacological aspects and his personal treatment plan, and bogged down with the repetition and big words, I wasn't as thrilled with that part either. There is some strong language in quotes. But on the whole, it was a very well put-together book and I did enjoy it and learn from it.
August 20, 2022
Part memoir, part journalism, part scientific literature review, I found this both extremely helpful and somewhat frustrating. The frustration came from the fact that it was so many things at once. Again and again I wanted the memoir to be be complete, the journalism to go further, the review to go deeper. None of the parts really conclude to satisfaction. On the other hand, it was the literary aspect of the book that was so helpful. Drawing inspiration from both Greek poetry and English WW1 poets, Morris evokes the experience of trauma in his own life and others in ways that were deeply resonant and that allowed the reader to reach his own personal insights into the experience of profound suffering. This is a book that invites your own synthesis rather than delivering the author’s settled conclusions. For anyone who’s experienced trauma or deals with those who have, I recommend it. It won’t be the last book you read on the subject, but it will change how you read about trauma going forward.
November 13, 2021
The Evil Hours – A Biography of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder – 2015 - ***** - Morris relates his own story of being a Marine and War Correspondent and his personal tale of PTSD. The book is very factual while yet bringing home the PTSD ramifications personally, politically and economically. I am not a reader of non-fiction as a rule but easily managed reading this book. It is well written and very informative. The research involved in assembling the book had to be extensive. The presented data is very helpful in assessing the extent of the problem – taking out the huge emotional issues and reducing the problem to facts. The extensive chapters on Therapy were especially of interest to me. Alternatives chapter included a list of seventy-nine different remedies. Congratulations to Morris for shedding light on a difficult subject that needs attention not only for veterans but for all who suffer from traumatic experiences.
February 10, 2024
Oh lawd, this was boring. I couldn't wait for it to end, and unfortunately it didn't add anything to my life. Not sure what I was expecting, but previously, the only somewhat related books I've listened to were by Jocko Willink and David Goggins who both bring this "war is horrible but we are amazing and here is what I learned so perhaps you too can also get your shit together" vibe. Well, this was none of that and I found it very difficult to pay attention. It was just sad, and included story upon story which I don't like in a nonfic book. Since I can't relate, don't have or even know anyone who has PTSD, it was simply a miss. Rated lower than average bc I would have preferred to listen to something else, and so it was a waste of time. I think it's for a very niche audience, those that are affected by it in some way. And I don't buy that 55% of people have or will experience that kind of trauma in their lives, hell no. I don't even recall who recommended it to me.
February 12, 2024
3.5
I truly appreciated the creative approach to create a "biography of PTSD". Reading this book felt like looking into an abstract painting and finding all of the new perspectives and angles for this disorder. David takes his time tracing the evolution of PTSD and its role in different scenarios. As much as I enjoyed this, there were a handful of times where it felt more like a fluffed up school paper—he would bring in examples for very surface-level details. With a book that dives into a deeply intimate topic, you would assume it would be written with very vulnerable strides. Some of these references really just scratched the surface to PTSD and added unnecessary distraction. But the parts that were good, were GOOD. I specifically enjoyed the personal accounts of his own brush with trauma and that of other people he met in his life. Not my favorite, but one that brought a lot of new concepts to light for me!
I truly appreciated the creative approach to create a "biography of PTSD". Reading this book felt like looking into an abstract painting and finding all of the new perspectives and angles for this disorder. David takes his time tracing the evolution of PTSD and its role in different scenarios. As much as I enjoyed this, there were a handful of times where it felt more like a fluffed up school paper—he would bring in examples for very surface-level details. With a book that dives into a deeply intimate topic, you would assume it would be written with very vulnerable strides. Some of these references really just scratched the surface to PTSD and added unnecessary distraction. But the parts that were good, were GOOD. I specifically enjoyed the personal accounts of his own brush with trauma and that of other people he met in his life. Not my favorite, but one that brought a lot of new concepts to light for me!
May 11, 2017
This book is beyond amazing. For anyone interested in PTSD, it provides a wealth of information, couched in beautiful prose, with interesting (if sometimes difficult to read) anecdotes. He has read scientific studies and novels, philosophy and personal memoirs, by the thousands it seems. This is probably the best, most thoughtful book I have read in the past year. One might complain that the book is overweighted with war stories (he himself served in the military and went to Iraq as a journalist) and spends not enough time on traumas such as rape, but I think that just reflects current bias in the research. Maybe that doesn't get him off the hook, but perhaps this book will inspire a study of other, less talked about, PTSD experiences. It has certainly inspired my interest in this topic.
April 15, 2018
A resonant and effective summary on the history, treatment, and theory of PTSD. The author does a commendable job of addressing the many issues and discrepancies around the disorder, even including voices that question the nature of its existence. While it pulls most of its research from the experience of re-integrating American veterans, that's not the whole story, and he does what he can to incorporate other voices. A quality, readable primer, made more memorable by the author's examination of how trauma has impacted him personally. I particularly appreciated the history of the role of Vietnam veterans in legitimizing the study of PTSD, an emphasis that now seems so omnipresent in military circles.
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