The book has an intriguing twin timeline structure aided by Ruby Wax's ferocious chronicler tendencies.
So the framing present-time of the book is the five weeks Ruby spends in a clinic in May-June of 2022 suffering from a severe depressive episode, yet still able to reflect with amusing acerbity on the treatments and analysis sessions she undergoes, the broken past she explores, and the whole feeling of being gripped by depression and slowly but surely crawling out of a deep dark hole. It's a salutary exemplar of the fact that 'depression' is not 'being a bit sad' - it is a crippling paralysis of motivation and the ability to cope with the everyday.
The interludes in treatment are bracketed by accounts of Ruby's hideously cramped timetable of research/personal experiences between January 2022 and her collapse into depression.
A month log retreat to a mindfulness centre at Spirit Rock,
a expedition to swim with humpbacked wales,
an experience supporting refugees in a camp in Greece,
a road trip recorded TV show in the company of two other celebrities to recreate the journey of a Victorian pioneer Isabella Bird, and finally
a retreat at a Christian community "Brothers in Christ" at a monastery near Leeds.
In the midst of this her stalwartly supportive husband Ed discovers he has cancer and, as Ruby freely acknowledges, has to invest more emotional energy in addressing her reaction to the news than in his own feelings.
The stick of rock words that run through this eclectic mix of challenges and revelations is parental influence. The words of Philip Larkin ring terribly true.
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had.
And add some extra, just for you.
Ruby's parents deliver a mix of emotional and physical abuse which ultimately drives Ruby into a constant bid to escape whatever home she has. The journeys, the TV shows, the comedy career, are all a flight from the reek of disappointment, constraint and violence that peppered her childhood - for example chased into a neighbours house where another girl was having a party and beaten in front of the girl and her guests by her father. For Ruby, home is not a place of peace and safe tranquility, it is somewhere you always run from.
The chapters and excursions introduce an array of different characters and Ruby's ability to find connections with the most diverse groups makes for entertaining reading.
However, particularly given contemporary circumstances, it is the chapter on refugees which struck me most sharply. For all Ruby and her charitable colleague's work with the disadvantaged and penned up in Greece, the sense that gripped me was one of failure, a failure of humanity. In the aftermath of WW2 we first witnessed the potential scale of a refugee crisis and didn't really rise to it as well as we could have. Wax's parents both escaped the holocaust to come to America, but I am struck by how despite the charitable efforts and sacrifices of the likes of Nicholas Winterton or Oskar Schindler, praising individuals - no matter how worthy - is a way to avoid confronting systemic failures. (Much as America seems to love heart-warming stories about 11 year olds selling lemonade to pay off their fellow students' 'lunch debt')
The comedian Henning Wenn once said “We don't do charity in Germany. We pay taxes. Charity is a failure of governments' responsibilities." and the reliance by refugees on charitable NGOs is an example of the same failure of governments to exercise our collective responsibilities as members of the human race and stewards of the planet.
Much as we all like to experience that sense of 'connection' and 'belonging' - all too often defining that 'belonging' involves also defining the 'don't belong.' It's a trait too easily weaponised by populist politicians to point at those most visibly different, and politically vulnerable and accuse them of the 'not-belonging' or of 'otherness' that makes them into Schrodinger's enemy - at once incalculably dangerous, yet simultaneously with no rights, powers or even recognition of their fundamental humanity.
Another aspect of the book which range particularly true is a quite from Falling Upward By Richard Rohr - a book that Ruby found in the clinic library.
You cannot walk the second half of life's journey with first journey tools. You need a whole new tool kit.
With Ruby approaching 70 at the time of these events, it's possibly a bit past the halfway point for abandoning childhood survival tools and learning to live in a new adult environment, but I was intrigued by how this idea highlights the varied dimensions of being a person. We are forever the same 'self' that we were from birth, yet also constantly changing and renewing ourselves. How does one resolve that sense of simultaneous c0ntinuity and fluidity, or of our isolation within our own minds and bodies with that yearning to connect, belong and be part of something other than just ourselves. Part of the ennui that seems to have gripped the world may originate in the brutal rugged individualism of the neo-liberalism that Monbiot outlined in The Invisible Doctrine.
In Good luck to you, Leo Grande I enjoyed watching Emma Thompson's portrayal of another 'self' coming to a late realisation of toxic patterns of behaviour, and realising that it is never too late to address them, that 'now' is always the perfect moment. Thompson as the retired widowed school teacher hires the eponymous sex worker to 'professionally' address the intimate deficiencies of her ultra staid marriage. The show is beautifully written and acted, elegantly effective rather than prurient in its use of nudity. And again, as with Ruby Wax's battle with depression and its roots in her own past, it is about a recognition of self, and of life as a journey not a destination.