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Henry's Demons: Living with Schizophrenia, A Father and Son's Story
On a cold February day two months after his twentieth birthday, Henry Cockburn waded into the Newhaven estuary outside Brighton, England, and nearly drowned. Voices, he said, had urged him to do it. Nearly halfway around the world in Afghanistan, journalist Patrick Cockburn learned from his wife, Jan, that his son had suffered a breakdown and had been admitted to a hospital. Ten days later, Henry was diagnosed with schizophrenia. Narrated by both Patrick and Henry, this is the extraordinary story of the eight years since Henry’s descent into schizophrenia—years he has spent almost entirely in hospitals—and his family’s struggle to help him recover.
With remarkable frankness, Patrick writes of Henry’s transformation from art student to mental patient and of the agonizing and difficult task of helping his son get well. Any hope of recovery lies in medication, yet Henry, who does not believe he is ill, secretly stops taking it and frequently runs away. Hopeful periods of stability are followed by frightening disappearances, then relapses that bleed into one another, until at last there is the promise of real improvement. In Henry’s own raw, beautiful chapters, he describes his psychosis from the inside. He vividly relates what it is like to hear trees and bushes speaking to him, voices compelling him to wander the countryside or live in the streets, the loneliness of life within hospital walls, harrowing “polka dot days” that incapacitate him, and finally, his steps towards recovery.
Patrick’s and Henry’s parallel stories reveal the complex intersections of sanity, madness, and identity; the vagaries of mental illness and its treatment; and a family’s steadfast response to a bewildering condition. Haunting, intimate, and profoundly moving, their unique narrative will resonate with every parent and anyone who has been touched by mental illness.
With remarkable frankness, Patrick writes of Henry’s transformation from art student to mental patient and of the agonizing and difficult task of helping his son get well. Any hope of recovery lies in medication, yet Henry, who does not believe he is ill, secretly stops taking it and frequently runs away. Hopeful periods of stability are followed by frightening disappearances, then relapses that bleed into one another, until at last there is the promise of real improvement. In Henry’s own raw, beautiful chapters, he describes his psychosis from the inside. He vividly relates what it is like to hear trees and bushes speaking to him, voices compelling him to wander the countryside or live in the streets, the loneliness of life within hospital walls, harrowing “polka dot days” that incapacitate him, and finally, his steps towards recovery.
Patrick’s and Henry’s parallel stories reveal the complex intersections of sanity, madness, and identity; the vagaries of mental illness and its treatment; and a family’s steadfast response to a bewildering condition. Haunting, intimate, and profoundly moving, their unique narrative will resonate with every parent and anyone who has been touched by mental illness.
239 pages, Hardcover
First published February 1, 2011
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2297 people want to read
About the author
Patrick Cockburn
36 books173 followersPatrick Oliver Cockburn is an Irish journalist who has been a Middle East correspondent since 1979 for the Financial Times and, presently, The Independent.
He has written four books on Iraq's recent history. He won the Martha Gellhorn Prize in 2005, the James Cameron Prize in 2006 and the Orwell Prize for Journalism in 2009.
He has written four books on Iraq's recent history. He won the Martha Gellhorn Prize in 2005, the James Cameron Prize in 2006 and the Orwell Prize for Journalism in 2009.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 107 reviews
May 6, 2015
Forgive me my reviews when they descend into stories. Sometimes a book brings back memories that illuminate one or other for me and since most of my reviews here and elsewhere are unread by anyone except me, I write them primarily for myself. I am wary of using real names as I have real-life friends and family in my list of friends, but sometimes it wouldn't make sense not to.
When I was a teenager, I lived in a shared house with a guy who was beautiful with blond shaggy hair, a lean body and was a virtuoso guitar player; everything that attracts young women. So when he suggested a walk one day on the disused Beeching railway track I was thrilled. It was so romantic walking in the sunshine, picking wild flowers, chatting and laughing and feeling free and he talked about such odd, different things I had never thought of. It was less of a thrilling free feeling when he wanted me to lie down on the railway track and bury me in stones and cover my head in flowers 'for beauty's sake'. He was a great big man, over 6' and I was very petite. He was very insistent so I laid down and he put some stones, small clinker from between the tracks on me and then went off to look for bigger ones. I ran!
Later that night, the house was full of red wine, weed and the boy playing his beautiful guitar. When people had left the room and we were alone for probably a moment he locked the door. It was ok, I left by the French windows and everyone went to bed except for the boy who stayed up playing guitar until dawn.
Next day we phoned his parents to tell them that they must come and get their son, that he needed help. A few days later we heard that his parents had gone out and he had made a big pile of their furniture in the garden, apparently intending to burn it, but when they came back he was in the shower screaming about the needles coming down and penetrating his skin. He said he was the new Christ of her Pain. My pain. His name was Christopher Paine.
Months went by, we had occasional reports, he was in and out of mental homes, doing well or not so well. Years went by, same thing. Eventually he settled down and became an opthalmologist we heard.
That was one of the true encounters I have had with schizophrenics of whom I have known three very well. Another drooled and wrote long poems of what he'd like to do to me which wasn't overtly sexual but very weird. A third refused to speak on Sundays because Ayn Rand didn't (she did, actually).
That's what it was really like being with someone who had a totally other frame of reference. In the book the father relates his son's differences but it didn't have the colour and the feeling of any experiences I had. Its not an illness where they are 'out of it' for years at a time and occasionally surfacing into this world, but more where someone has a frame of reference of their own invention for interpreting sights and sounds and therefore their responses are out of synch with the rest of the world. They cannot live with us and its terrible to have to live with them, you neither want to be harmed not let them cause themselves harm.
When I was a teenager, I lived in a shared house with a guy who was beautiful with blond shaggy hair, a lean body and was a virtuoso guitar player; everything that attracts young women. So when he suggested a walk one day on the disused Beeching railway track I was thrilled. It was so romantic walking in the sunshine, picking wild flowers, chatting and laughing and feeling free and he talked about such odd, different things I had never thought of. It was less of a thrilling free feeling when he wanted me to lie down on the railway track and bury me in stones and cover my head in flowers 'for beauty's sake'. He was a great big man, over 6' and I was very petite. He was very insistent so I laid down and he put some stones, small clinker from between the tracks on me and then went off to look for bigger ones. I ran!
Later that night, the house was full of red wine, weed and the boy playing his beautiful guitar. When people had left the room and we were alone for probably a moment he locked the door. It was ok, I left by the French windows and everyone went to bed except for the boy who stayed up playing guitar until dawn.
Next day we phoned his parents to tell them that they must come and get their son, that he needed help. A few days later we heard that his parents had gone out and he had made a big pile of their furniture in the garden, apparently intending to burn it, but when they came back he was in the shower screaming about the needles coming down and penetrating his skin. He said he was the new Christ of her Pain. My pain. His name was Christopher Paine.
Months went by, we had occasional reports, he was in and out of mental homes, doing well or not so well. Years went by, same thing. Eventually he settled down and became an opthalmologist we heard.
That was one of the true encounters I have had with schizophrenics of whom I have known three very well. Another drooled and wrote long poems of what he'd like to do to me which wasn't overtly sexual but very weird. A third refused to speak on Sundays because Ayn Rand didn't (she did, actually).
That's what it was really like being with someone who had a totally other frame of reference. In the book the father relates his son's differences but it didn't have the colour and the feeling of any experiences I had. Its not an illness where they are 'out of it' for years at a time and occasionally surfacing into this world, but more where someone has a frame of reference of their own invention for interpreting sights and sounds and therefore their responses are out of synch with the rest of the world. They cannot live with us and its terrible to have to live with them, you neither want to be harmed not let them cause themselves harm.
April 21, 2013
Around 1990 my nephew had a psychotic episode. It was the culmination of a few weeks of increasingly eccentric behaviour. He grew up in a fairly happy-clappy Christian family (Baptist) but out of them all, it was my nephew who began to take Christianity completely seriously. He read the New Testament and it said
…him that taketh away thy cloak forbid not to take thy coat also. Give to every man that asketh of thee; and of him that taketh away thy goods ask them not again. And as ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise
(Luke 6:29-31)
So guess what, he came across a couple of junkies begging in the town, and he gave them all his money. My uncle found they were coming round to his son’s house and asking him for more money, and he was giving everything he had to them. My uncle put a stop to that, which triggered the psychotic episode.
My nephew spent some time in a psychiatric residential home and then went to live with his parents. The main struggle from then on was to get him to take his medication.
Because the medication, although it cooled him right down so that his life was not in turmoil anymore, was telling him that these strong messages, these visions, had not been from God at all. Just from the nether reaches of his mind, which was ill.
Your greatest emotional and spiritual insights demoted to symptoms of an illness. The very person you are being dissolved like a sugarcube in a cup of hot tea as the drugs kick in and normalise your brain.
***
In Henry’s Demons it’s pretty much like that but without the religion. Henry was a bright young man from an upper-middle-class family – father a foreign correspondent for The Independent, mother an English literature professor and daughter of a bishop. It couldn’t get much posher. Henry went off to be an art student and then as has happened to so many hipsters and bohos, began the spiral down, which, of course, was masked by the expected eccentric behaviour, such that it’s hard to separate the wacky student behaviour from the creeping schizophrenia. Walking round the town in bare feet in the middle of the English winter is taking things a trifle far, though, and scaling a 40 foot aqueduct at great personal risk was, well, crazy. He told the police it was to get a better view of Brighton, but actually, it was because he was convinced the Hanging Gardens of Babylon were on the other side. Then he swam across an estuary, also in the middle of winter, and nearly died of hypothermia, so it was finally recognised that something was amiss.
After his diagnosis Henry was confined in various institutions of increasing security levels because of his total aversion to taking the prescribed anti-psychotics, and because of his Stalag 42-meets-Papillon style escapes, which were so frequent as to become comical for the reader.
But not for the parents, because when he escaped, Henry would hear the trees and the wild animals telling him to take all his clothes off and follow them. So he would go on miles of naked wanderings, like some Old testament prophet. Oh yes, they were probably undiagnosed schizophrenics too. After you read this book, it’s blindingly obvious.
This very compelling memoir is written 80% by the father Patrick, maybe 15% by Henry, and 5% by Jan, the mother. From the different intimate angles, looking out from the father’s face, then the son’s, the following picture of a severe schizophrenic emerges.
As the illness takes hold, the entire world of inanimate objects begins to ANIMATE, like in a deadly serious cartoon. Your senses are acute enough to join in with its mysterious, challenging, rapturous, thrilling conversations, it’s the acid trip you can’t come down from. These are the “voices”. The wind will guide you, the trees will interpret for you, the lowly brambles in a hedge will tell you they are GOD, the sea will infold you with LOVE, animals will show you how things really work, the sky will sing to you with cloud language. Alas, none of these dialogues make any sense. They don’t tell you how to live, they don’t give you information you can possibly give to anyone, this is strictly a one-on-one thing, no one else is admitted to your tormenting but awe-inspiring continual embroilment with every part of this complex globe. The voices zig and zag, first one starts up then dies away and another and another overlap. It’s too much, it’s overwhelming. Everything is important. It’s vital you should go down this street, into this garden, take off all your clothes and stand rigidly amongst the roses with bleeding feet. Then suddenly the trees stop talking, you wait to find out what should come next, but what comes next is the police.
Henry’s illness began when he was 20 and the book describes the next desperate eight years. By the end, aged 28, Henry is slowly improving, possibly because finally, finally, a home was found for him which actually got him to take his medication, and actually was able to prevent him running away. After 8 years…!
I found out something which, being uneducated in psychiatry, came as a surprise :
Schizophrenia and bi-polar disorder are often spoken of by laypeople – I used to do it myself – as if they were definitions as precise as those for hepatitis or appendicitis. In reality, the names are no more than those given to a collection of symptoms observable at a certain moment in time.
Mr Cockburn then gives an example of a doctor who was huffing and puffing along the lines “What idiot diagnosed this patient as bi-polar, they’re clearly paranoid schizophrenic” and then looking through the notes he found it had been himself, only two years previously.
From this plainly written story severe indictments of the British mental health services and psychiatry in general emerge, as we have already seen. Take this for instance :
A general failing in their [the staff] part was that they never gave enough weight to the distress of patients who were being asked to take medication for the rest of their life which had serious side effects – Henry was half-asleep much of the time and became fat – but did not cure the disorder
and
Over the last century, psychiatrists and psychologists have proved singularly unsuccessful in finding either causes or cures for mental disorders. Their failure is all the more glaring compared to the great advances of physical medicine.
I can’t disagree with any of that.
Final quote from Patrick:
When abroad I called him almost every day on the satellite phone and tried to find cheering things to raise his morale. Cheerfulness did not come easily, since he was in a locked mental hospital ward and I was usually inside a heavily guarded hotel in Baghdad, where there were daily bombings and shootings.
And a final fun fact for Goodreaders : Henry reveals on p219 that one of his babysitters had been none other than David (Cloud Atlas) Mitchell.
…him that taketh away thy cloak forbid not to take thy coat also. Give to every man that asketh of thee; and of him that taketh away thy goods ask them not again. And as ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise
(Luke 6:29-31)
So guess what, he came across a couple of junkies begging in the town, and he gave them all his money. My uncle found they were coming round to his son’s house and asking him for more money, and he was giving everything he had to them. My uncle put a stop to that, which triggered the psychotic episode.
My nephew spent some time in a psychiatric residential home and then went to live with his parents. The main struggle from then on was to get him to take his medication.
Because the medication, although it cooled him right down so that his life was not in turmoil anymore, was telling him that these strong messages, these visions, had not been from God at all. Just from the nether reaches of his mind, which was ill.
Your greatest emotional and spiritual insights demoted to symptoms of an illness. The very person you are being dissolved like a sugarcube in a cup of hot tea as the drugs kick in and normalise your brain.
***
In Henry’s Demons it’s pretty much like that but without the religion. Henry was a bright young man from an upper-middle-class family – father a foreign correspondent for The Independent, mother an English literature professor and daughter of a bishop. It couldn’t get much posher. Henry went off to be an art student and then as has happened to so many hipsters and bohos, began the spiral down, which, of course, was masked by the expected eccentric behaviour, such that it’s hard to separate the wacky student behaviour from the creeping schizophrenia. Walking round the town in bare feet in the middle of the English winter is taking things a trifle far, though, and scaling a 40 foot aqueduct at great personal risk was, well, crazy. He told the police it was to get a better view of Brighton, but actually, it was because he was convinced the Hanging Gardens of Babylon were on the other side. Then he swam across an estuary, also in the middle of winter, and nearly died of hypothermia, so it was finally recognised that something was amiss.
After his diagnosis Henry was confined in various institutions of increasing security levels because of his total aversion to taking the prescribed anti-psychotics, and because of his Stalag 42-meets-Papillon style escapes, which were so frequent as to become comical for the reader.
But not for the parents, because when he escaped, Henry would hear the trees and the wild animals telling him to take all his clothes off and follow them. So he would go on miles of naked wanderings, like some Old testament prophet. Oh yes, they were probably undiagnosed schizophrenics too. After you read this book, it’s blindingly obvious.
This very compelling memoir is written 80% by the father Patrick, maybe 15% by Henry, and 5% by Jan, the mother. From the different intimate angles, looking out from the father’s face, then the son’s, the following picture of a severe schizophrenic emerges.
As the illness takes hold, the entire world of inanimate objects begins to ANIMATE, like in a deadly serious cartoon. Your senses are acute enough to join in with its mysterious, challenging, rapturous, thrilling conversations, it’s the acid trip you can’t come down from. These are the “voices”. The wind will guide you, the trees will interpret for you, the lowly brambles in a hedge will tell you they are GOD, the sea will infold you with LOVE, animals will show you how things really work, the sky will sing to you with cloud language. Alas, none of these dialogues make any sense. They don’t tell you how to live, they don’t give you information you can possibly give to anyone, this is strictly a one-on-one thing, no one else is admitted to your tormenting but awe-inspiring continual embroilment with every part of this complex globe. The voices zig and zag, first one starts up then dies away and another and another overlap. It’s too much, it’s overwhelming. Everything is important. It’s vital you should go down this street, into this garden, take off all your clothes and stand rigidly amongst the roses with bleeding feet. Then suddenly the trees stop talking, you wait to find out what should come next, but what comes next is the police.
Henry’s illness began when he was 20 and the book describes the next desperate eight years. By the end, aged 28, Henry is slowly improving, possibly because finally, finally, a home was found for him which actually got him to take his medication, and actually was able to prevent him running away. After 8 years…!
I found out something which, being uneducated in psychiatry, came as a surprise :
Schizophrenia and bi-polar disorder are often spoken of by laypeople – I used to do it myself – as if they were definitions as precise as those for hepatitis or appendicitis. In reality, the names are no more than those given to a collection of symptoms observable at a certain moment in time.
Mr Cockburn then gives an example of a doctor who was huffing and puffing along the lines “What idiot diagnosed this patient as bi-polar, they’re clearly paranoid schizophrenic” and then looking through the notes he found it had been himself, only two years previously.
From this plainly written story severe indictments of the British mental health services and psychiatry in general emerge, as we have already seen. Take this for instance :
A general failing in their [the staff] part was that they never gave enough weight to the distress of patients who were being asked to take medication for the rest of their life which had serious side effects – Henry was half-asleep much of the time and became fat – but did not cure the disorder
and
Over the last century, psychiatrists and psychologists have proved singularly unsuccessful in finding either causes or cures for mental disorders. Their failure is all the more glaring compared to the great advances of physical medicine.
I can’t disagree with any of that.
Final quote from Patrick:
When abroad I called him almost every day on the satellite phone and tried to find cheering things to raise his morale. Cheerfulness did not come easily, since he was in a locked mental hospital ward and I was usually inside a heavily guarded hotel in Baghdad, where there were daily bombings and shootings.
And a final fun fact for Goodreaders : Henry reveals on p219 that one of his babysitters had been none other than David (Cloud Atlas) Mitchell.
August 7, 2018
This is probably the best book I have read on schizophrenia. I believe this is the book that says that pot can trigger this condition in the susceptible. I was so glad to hear him say this as most people today are just super ignorant about this fact. They just think that everyone can have some pot especially here in Colorado now. I even had my doctor offer it to me for pain.
I got off a few lists on Facebook that has "pushers". I get very mad about this. So I could rave and rant but a word to the wise should suffice.
I got off a few lists on Facebook that has "pushers". I get very mad about this. So I could rave and rant but a word to the wise should suffice.
August 16, 2011
Book was a bit slow. Patrick Cockburn seems unable to decide whether he was going to write a memoir or a mental illness education case study. What was truly powerful was his incorporation of Henry's own words and thoughts on his experience with schizophrenia. Patrick rightly observes in the Prologue that autobiographical memoirs on mental illness tend to be written by individuals after they've largely recovered, which naturally alters one's telling of an experience which is dramatically different than when one is actively ill. Through Henry's words, it is there where the reader is able to experience the flight of ideas, distorted thinking, and lack of insight that so paralyses those with schizophrenia yet also brings to light the resilience, creativity, and self-awareness that is often lost in second-person tellings of mental illness.
April 11, 2019
One of the best books on mental illness I have ever read, and I've read quite a few. Finding good ones on schizophrenia are rare and this book is amazing. It switches back and forth between the father's struggles dealing with the son's diagnosis and the son's own first hand account. Henry's accounts are amazing and provide such unique, first hand insight. The father's accounts are similarly interesting on the toll severe mental illness takes on a family and the grieving process he went through. It was very interesting reading about the British system of mental health facilities since I have worked in an American one. It was quite shocking to hear about Henry's repeated escapes and the somewhat casual-ness they were handled with. I definitely recommend this book and wish everyone could read it, it would shatter a lot of misconceptions about schizophrenia.
June 29, 2015
A father and son take turns to write chapters about family life as the son's schizophrenia gets progressively more problematic. The son's chapters are the most interesting in a way, as his chapters get fewer and fewer and more and more sparse on detail as he struggles to hold on to any vestige of self-control. The father plots us reliably through his son's symptoms and behaviours and does so with great dignity, calmness and love. If you wanted to know what schizophrenia might actually entail on daily life, this book offers a clear lens cast over it. Henry still has his good periods and bad ones by the end of the book, but one is left hopeful because of the love and support of his father.
Addendum - just reread the book for some writing I'm doing and got a different sense of it this time. The Father's sections show a confessedly remaining on the outside of the condition, simply because it is impossible to bring rational understanding to the symptoms. He starts off with the scare stories and boogie man images of the schizophrenic prevalent in society and the journey takes him at least to dismantling those stereotypes. But he remains excluded. Henry's sections however are more directly illuminating. His first two sections, written during more stable periods of lucidity, show very staccato recall of events - marvellous recall, but alarming for the prosaic way in which scary actions are merely relayed here without emotion or analysis. His later sections as he moves back towards some stability show more insight as he arrives at the conclusion that although he still loathes what the anti-psychotic medication represents (an admission that he is actually ill, not possessed of special insights and revelatory visions), it is in his utter best interests to actually take it. He begins to cope with the bombarding brainwaves simply by lying down on a bed and trying to sleep through them rather than yield to the suggestions of the voices therein. It's interesting that such a shift in his perception seems only to come when paranoia really infects his visions and scares him, whereas initially the visions were not seen as threatening at all, even if they induced actions in him that were life-threatening.
I gained so much more by a re-reading of this book. I guess to write about such unfamiliar landscapes as those conjured by schizophrenic states of mind makes this almost inevitable.
Addendum - just reread the book for some writing I'm doing and got a different sense of it this time. The Father's sections show a confessedly remaining on the outside of the condition, simply because it is impossible to bring rational understanding to the symptoms. He starts off with the scare stories and boogie man images of the schizophrenic prevalent in society and the journey takes him at least to dismantling those stereotypes. But he remains excluded. Henry's sections however are more directly illuminating. His first two sections, written during more stable periods of lucidity, show very staccato recall of events - marvellous recall, but alarming for the prosaic way in which scary actions are merely relayed here without emotion or analysis. His later sections as he moves back towards some stability show more insight as he arrives at the conclusion that although he still loathes what the anti-psychotic medication represents (an admission that he is actually ill, not possessed of special insights and revelatory visions), it is in his utter best interests to actually take it. He begins to cope with the bombarding brainwaves simply by lying down on a bed and trying to sleep through them rather than yield to the suggestions of the voices therein. It's interesting that such a shift in his perception seems only to come when paranoia really infects his visions and scares him, whereas initially the visions were not seen as threatening at all, even if they induced actions in him that were life-threatening.
I gained so much more by a re-reading of this book. I guess to write about such unfamiliar landscapes as those conjured by schizophrenic states of mind makes this almost inevitable.
March 21, 2011
One of the books where I felt like it was a two or a four. I have developed a sort of endearment towards memoirs, mostly because I feel like the contents are... for a lack of better phrase, very human. Patrick's part of the memoir's I feel he intellectualized a bit much. I didn't get the emotional dynamics from his side of the story. Jan's journal inserted entries was the more enjoyable. There we see feelings such as resentment, frustration and humor required to deal with their situation. These things were largely lacking in Patrick's account. I do kind of understand that he may have aimed to debunk certain paradigms we have about people with schizophrenia. I wonder if it was also the result of him being away from his family(he is a international journalist).
I was also annoyed with Patrick's insipid attack at the psychology/psychiatry field. He compares the medical field to the psychology/psychiatry field quite unfairly to say the least:
"Their failure is all the more glaring compared to the great advances in physical medicine, which, in a relatively short period, has seen past killers like cholera, typhus, TB, malaria either eliminated or controlled."
Apples and potatoes sir. Apples and potatoes. Thanks to Koch's postulates, all scientists had to do to treat those diseases is identify the microbe that caused the diseased and find the best way to kill it. In a laboratory where they can control for all variables. Luckily there are not many ethical barriers in such approach. I don't know if there is a Bill of Rights for bacteria and such. Unfortunately, psychological disorders cannot be treated in the same manner. Even the system we have of diagnosing psychological disorders is suspect. But that is science for you. It takes time. This was probably a controlled attempt at venting some frustration but I feel like it can give readers an ill view of the field.
One of the immediate things that struck me when I was reading Henry's account was this line: "Being locked up for so long really damages your spirits. You feel forgotten." Being someone who works in the health industry, I see this often. One of the greatest challenges of such psychological disorders is loneliness. In some respect they really do live in a different world and that can be terribly depressing to have to wander it's terrain by your lonesome. I had to change my stance on religion in this regard. As evidenced by Mark Lawrence, who was able to overcome his schizophrenia with minimal clinical intervention due to his subscription to spirituality(religion's realm of expertise). There are still some things that religion can provide the afflicted that science can not. Acceptance which leads to a feeling of belonging, which then mitigates feelings of loneliness is one of them.
I was also annoyed with Patrick's insipid attack at the psychology/psychiatry field. He compares the medical field to the psychology/psychiatry field quite unfairly to say the least:
"Their failure is all the more glaring compared to the great advances in physical medicine, which, in a relatively short period, has seen past killers like cholera, typhus, TB, malaria either eliminated or controlled."
Apples and potatoes sir. Apples and potatoes. Thanks to Koch's postulates, all scientists had to do to treat those diseases is identify the microbe that caused the diseased and find the best way to kill it. In a laboratory where they can control for all variables. Luckily there are not many ethical barriers in such approach. I don't know if there is a Bill of Rights for bacteria and such. Unfortunately, psychological disorders cannot be treated in the same manner. Even the system we have of diagnosing psychological disorders is suspect. But that is science for you. It takes time. This was probably a controlled attempt at venting some frustration but I feel like it can give readers an ill view of the field.
One of the immediate things that struck me when I was reading Henry's account was this line: "Being locked up for so long really damages your spirits. You feel forgotten." Being someone who works in the health industry, I see this often. One of the greatest challenges of such psychological disorders is loneliness. In some respect they really do live in a different world and that can be terribly depressing to have to wander it's terrain by your lonesome. I had to change my stance on religion in this regard. As evidenced by Mark Lawrence, who was able to overcome his schizophrenia with minimal clinical intervention due to his subscription to spirituality(religion's realm of expertise). There are still some things that religion can provide the afflicted that science can not. Acceptance which leads to a feeling of belonging, which then mitigates feelings of loneliness is one of them.
March 18, 2014
This is a very matter-of-fact book, but it is also an emotionally evocative one. It tells the story of Henry Cockburn (co-author) who is diagnosed with schizophrenia in 2002 at the age of 20 (while an art student in Brighton).
Much of the story is conveyed by Patrick Cockburn, Henry's father, in a considered documentary style. He interweaves explanatory details with narrative account, but what is immediately striking is how little any of the background information on schizophrenia contributes to his (or the reader's) understanding - the condition largely remains a mystery. And so the reader is drawn into the anxiety and bewilderment associated with the situation.
Some parts of the story are narrated by Henry himself, in an almost hurried but extremely arresting style. He talks of experiencing the onset of his condition as a spiritual awakening, with his perspective on the world becoming significantly altered. As some of the events described take place in Brighton - somewhere I'm reasonably familiar with - I personally find it fascinating to see particular experiences unfolding against recognisable backdrops. For instance, there's a vision of the Buddha on Brighton beach, and the planting of a banana tree outside the Concorde 2 music venue. This locatedness - in Brighton and elsewhere - gives an additional tangibility to these occurrences.
A growing sense of the enormity of Henry's condition emerges as the story develops. There is no quick fix for what has happened; in fact, there is no fix at all. Furthermore, Henry himself is not always convinced that he actually has a problem. What he doesn't necessarily always realise - but what becomes clear to his family (and to the reader) - is that this is a life sentence.
One particularly valuable service this book does is to underline the injustices associated with mental health problems, especially schizophrenia. Various truths are highlighted, including the fact that the media often demonise sufferers as violent (statistically, very few are), that society in general often treats them with disregard (at best), and that sufferers are far more likely to be dismissed from their jobs than if they were suffering from a physical condition.
Given the downbeat quality of the story and many of the associated observations, it is tempting to wonder if there's any chance of the book ending on a positive, uplifting note. I won't give anything away, but I will say that the reader does NOT finish the final chapter with a sense of desolation. Instead (for me, anyway) there is a sense of worthwhile insight bordering on enlightenment.
Much of the story is conveyed by Patrick Cockburn, Henry's father, in a considered documentary style. He interweaves explanatory details with narrative account, but what is immediately striking is how little any of the background information on schizophrenia contributes to his (or the reader's) understanding - the condition largely remains a mystery. And so the reader is drawn into the anxiety and bewilderment associated with the situation.
Some parts of the story are narrated by Henry himself, in an almost hurried but extremely arresting style. He talks of experiencing the onset of his condition as a spiritual awakening, with his perspective on the world becoming significantly altered. As some of the events described take place in Brighton - somewhere I'm reasonably familiar with - I personally find it fascinating to see particular experiences unfolding against recognisable backdrops. For instance, there's a vision of the Buddha on Brighton beach, and the planting of a banana tree outside the Concorde 2 music venue. This locatedness - in Brighton and elsewhere - gives an additional tangibility to these occurrences.
A growing sense of the enormity of Henry's condition emerges as the story develops. There is no quick fix for what has happened; in fact, there is no fix at all. Furthermore, Henry himself is not always convinced that he actually has a problem. What he doesn't necessarily always realise - but what becomes clear to his family (and to the reader) - is that this is a life sentence.
One particularly valuable service this book does is to underline the injustices associated with mental health problems, especially schizophrenia. Various truths are highlighted, including the fact that the media often demonise sufferers as violent (statistically, very few are), that society in general often treats them with disregard (at best), and that sufferers are far more likely to be dismissed from their jobs than if they were suffering from a physical condition.
Given the downbeat quality of the story and many of the associated observations, it is tempting to wonder if there's any chance of the book ending on a positive, uplifting note. I won't give anything away, but I will say that the reader does NOT finish the final chapter with a sense of desolation. Instead (for me, anyway) there is a sense of worthwhile insight bordering on enlightenment.
December 24, 2012
I was surprised at how boring I actually found this book (I definitely have to echo others who have described it as dry and not very engaging). On the one hand, it was nice to read an account of a family that took it upon themselves to learn about a loved ones illness, that writes about caring for the person without bitterness while acknowledging how difficult and hurtful the experience can be, that knows a bit about the history of psychiatry. Of course some of that can be attributed to the book being authored by a journalist who was probably naturally compelled towards research, but there’s a patience and love that I find rare even in seemingly strong families.
However, ultimately I got tired of reading about what mostly amounts to Henry’s endless escapes from less than secure wards, during which he mainly communes with nature and gets naked. His few accounts are fleshed out by his father, who gives us brief summaries of treatment in Western societies and the occurrence of schizophrenia across cultures, but these are too brief to appeal to someone with an interest in psychology. I think they’re meant more to appeal to those who don’t already know much about the subject, even in a general sense, and to put Henry’s story into context.
The accounts Henry does give I didn’t find very engaging either, and I don’t think this is something that could have been improved upon. While schizophrenia is fascinating, so little is known about the illness, and those with the diagnosis often have so little insight into their condition (this is mentioned by Henry’s doctors and his father numerous times). It was like reading about someone’s acid trip- over and over again. But we don’t know why they’re tripping and we get no analysis of their behavior. Most of his accounts read like a laundry list of actions and feelings: I walked into the lake. A tree told me to go back to land. I saw a helicopter and felt paranoid. The police came and took me back to the hospital. Maybe that’s all he remembers, or that was the depth of his experience and emotion, or maybe he’s just not great at putting his accounts into words. What I do think the book conveyed well was just how hard schizophrenia is to pin down, how varied it can be from person to person.
However, ultimately I got tired of reading about what mostly amounts to Henry’s endless escapes from less than secure wards, during which he mainly communes with nature and gets naked. His few accounts are fleshed out by his father, who gives us brief summaries of treatment in Western societies and the occurrence of schizophrenia across cultures, but these are too brief to appeal to someone with an interest in psychology. I think they’re meant more to appeal to those who don’t already know much about the subject, even in a general sense, and to put Henry’s story into context.
The accounts Henry does give I didn’t find very engaging either, and I don’t think this is something that could have been improved upon. While schizophrenia is fascinating, so little is known about the illness, and those with the diagnosis often have so little insight into their condition (this is mentioned by Henry’s doctors and his father numerous times). It was like reading about someone’s acid trip- over and over again. But we don’t know why they’re tripping and we get no analysis of their behavior. Most of his accounts read like a laundry list of actions and feelings: I walked into the lake. A tree told me to go back to land. I saw a helicopter and felt paranoid. The police came and took me back to the hospital. Maybe that’s all he remembers, or that was the depth of his experience and emotion, or maybe he’s just not great at putting his accounts into words. What I do think the book conveyed well was just how hard schizophrenia is to pin down, how varied it can be from person to person.
March 24, 2011
Henry's Demons is an insightful look into both the family experience when schizophrenia strikes a loved one, and into the U.K. System of care. As a parent in the United states, I couldn't help but compare Henry's experience (e.g. months at a time in the hospital) to my son Ben's story here in the United States, where it seems that every day the hospital must justify the stay to the insurance companies. I must admit, I was a bit jealous at first; yet, I don't see that Henry benefited much from his extended stays, so maybe not. Hmmm.
Cockburn writes movingly and intelligently about his father's-eye view of Henry's illness and the actions it triggers; as a journalist, though, he focuses on many of the issues and facts more than his emotions about Henry's illness. Through Henry's chapters - a unique feature of this book - we get a view of what incidents were like from the point of view of someone who is suffering from schizophrenia, and actually hearing the "voices" that encourage him.
We don't get to know Henry much before his illness, though there are glimpses.
Henry spends a lot of time hospitalized; he also spends a great deal of time escaping. How is this so easy to accomplish? Yet, I have no doubt that every word is true.
This is a great addition to anyone's understanding of the family experience when mental illness strikes. Indeed, it can happen in any family.
Cockburn writes movingly and intelligently about his father's-eye view of Henry's illness and the actions it triggers; as a journalist, though, he focuses on many of the issues and facts more than his emotions about Henry's illness. Through Henry's chapters - a unique feature of this book - we get a view of what incidents were like from the point of view of someone who is suffering from schizophrenia, and actually hearing the "voices" that encourage him.
We don't get to know Henry much before his illness, though there are glimpses.
Henry spends a lot of time hospitalized; he also spends a great deal of time escaping. How is this so easy to accomplish? Yet, I have no doubt that every word is true.
This is a great addition to anyone's understanding of the family experience when mental illness strikes. Indeed, it can happen in any family.
July 17, 2024
Read this for summer reading when I was in high school. I don’t know why I chose it, but I’m glad I did. Definitely answered a lot of curiosities I had about Schizophrenia. The book showed a more human and real perspective of the illness that undid a lot of the preconceived notions I had.
March 21, 2014
Although occasionally a little slow and repetitive, this was an excellent account of one family's struggle with schizophrenia.
I liked that the chapters were interspersed with Henry's own experiences, both when he was very ill and when he was more lucid, as this provided some real insight into what living with schizophrenia can actually feel like.
One can only come away feeling nothing but sympathy for sufferers and those close to them, particularly when treatment and prognosis for the condition is often so poor.
I liked that the chapters were interspersed with Henry's own experiences, both when he was very ill and when he was more lucid, as this provided some real insight into what living with schizophrenia can actually feel like.
One can only come away feeling nothing but sympathy for sufferers and those close to them, particularly when treatment and prognosis for the condition is often so poor.
March 12, 2015
Henry's portion of the book is enjoyable, Patrick's (the father) sections alternate between useful and overly self-absorbed. Plus he comes equipped with what I think of as Standard Old White Man Opinions. (Raymond chandler, better than trash like Agatha Christie; rap music is self-absorbed doggerel and no good; etc)
April 23, 2011
so accurately describes emotions around a family member receiving a mental health diagnosis, the shock waves radiate on forever....
April 30, 2011
Tough but so glad I read it
March 11, 2018
"A new picture of schizophrenia has begun to emerge over the last ten years, portraying it as having a series of causes rather than one single cause. There is undoubtedly a large genetic component. However, it appears that it is not the creation of a dominant gene but of a significant number of less powerful genes which interact with one another and with environmental factors. The genes do not cause schizophrenia but come into play when they are triggered by events. In other words, possession of these inherited genes does not doom a person to insanity , though it does make him or her vulnerable. Environmental factors; living in the city rather than the country; taking particular drugs such as cannabis, cocaine, or amphetamines; or being a newly arrived immigrant." Excerpt from the book. First edition written in 2011.
We are a long way from helping the mentally ill in this country and around the world. In fact, we are ignoring them, the same way we ignore the prison population, the veterans, the elderly and the poor. It seems, only the rich get all the perks and all the attention. We are in a nosedive with the rampant use of drugs and alcohol, prescription drugs and the massive immigrant population and we need to start paying attention to the looming crisis, getting more critical everyday, as we see in the massacres in our schools and cities. There is research pointing to a direct connection between street drugs and mental illness and the connection is there also when it comes to immigrants. Poverty and poor living conditions are also major contributing factors to mental illness. This is a harrowing account of one young man's spiral into schizophrenia, the voices, the hallucinations and how tormented he was at such a young age. He was capable of so much, but his mind would not allow the artist to prevail. His drawings are awe-inspiring, but nothing could take away the "polka-dot" days and the "rings" he would see, and the trees that would talk to him. I can't imagine what this would be like, but we all hang in the balance of here and gone, and one wrong concoction of a lethal drug, could bring on these disorders and mental illness. The mind is a fragile place. We have closed asylums and institutions, en masse, mostly housing patients in prisons today. More money is spent on AIDS and HIV research than mental illness and as the population of mentally ill people continues to skyrocket, and it is, we will see more and more people lining our city streets, living in boxes and tent cities, such as we see in California now, this will become very common place. No one seems to care about the plight of the mentally ill and the burden placed on the families dealing with these children who are committed to hurting and/or killing themselves. We fear the mentally ill and put very little emphasis on their care. The stigma is still too great and the embarrassment to much to handle. Good book, though I hate to read of psychosis in children, it is heartbreaking.
We are a long way from helping the mentally ill in this country and around the world. In fact, we are ignoring them, the same way we ignore the prison population, the veterans, the elderly and the poor. It seems, only the rich get all the perks and all the attention. We are in a nosedive with the rampant use of drugs and alcohol, prescription drugs and the massive immigrant population and we need to start paying attention to the looming crisis, getting more critical everyday, as we see in the massacres in our schools and cities. There is research pointing to a direct connection between street drugs and mental illness and the connection is there also when it comes to immigrants. Poverty and poor living conditions are also major contributing factors to mental illness. This is a harrowing account of one young man's spiral into schizophrenia, the voices, the hallucinations and how tormented he was at such a young age. He was capable of so much, but his mind would not allow the artist to prevail. His drawings are awe-inspiring, but nothing could take away the "polka-dot" days and the "rings" he would see, and the trees that would talk to him. I can't imagine what this would be like, but we all hang in the balance of here and gone, and one wrong concoction of a lethal drug, could bring on these disorders and mental illness. The mind is a fragile place. We have closed asylums and institutions, en masse, mostly housing patients in prisons today. More money is spent on AIDS and HIV research than mental illness and as the population of mentally ill people continues to skyrocket, and it is, we will see more and more people lining our city streets, living in boxes and tent cities, such as we see in California now, this will become very common place. No one seems to care about the plight of the mentally ill and the burden placed on the families dealing with these children who are committed to hurting and/or killing themselves. We fear the mentally ill and put very little emphasis on their care. The stigma is still too great and the embarrassment to much to handle. Good book, though I hate to read of psychosis in children, it is heartbreaking.
February 18, 2022
This was a definite eye opener. Henry as a teenager was diagnosed with schizophrenia and this is largely written by his dad, but with extracts from himself and also a small diary entry from his mum. Patrick, Henry's father gives a detailed account of how it was to be working abroad as a journalist covering the war in Afghanistan to be told via telephone by his wife that their son is not well, in the mind and she is concerned. Patrick rushes home and begins the story of the accounts in extreme detail of what keeps happening to their son, how he is admitted to mental institutes, but keeps absconding. How he believes tress are talking to him, how he keeps getting arrested, thinks nothing of walking around naked, constantly barefoot.
As with many people with a mental illness, Henry doesn't like to admit there is anything wrong with him at first and is reluctant to take medication or be sectioned and believes his behaviour to be entirely normal. In the chapters written by Henry himself it is clear he is troubled and you can tell how difficult it must be in accepting that. A very honest and true account of what this family have gone through. Most of us only have a vague idea of what life might be like for those housed in mental facilities and to live with people with these illnesses, and this book really makes us understand and see both sides of the story.
It was extremely detailed and tough in places to read, as this family fear one day they will get a phone call from the police to say their son is dead, I can only imagine how they must have felt. The end of the book although it is clear that Henry still has his issues, I am pleased he is accepting of his condition and it was a nice end and I hope he continues to rally on. Although this book is old now I have not seen anything further by this family and hope all is well now.
As with many people with a mental illness, Henry doesn't like to admit there is anything wrong with him at first and is reluctant to take medication or be sectioned and believes his behaviour to be entirely normal. In the chapters written by Henry himself it is clear he is troubled and you can tell how difficult it must be in accepting that. A very honest and true account of what this family have gone through. Most of us only have a vague idea of what life might be like for those housed in mental facilities and to live with people with these illnesses, and this book really makes us understand and see both sides of the story.
It was extremely detailed and tough in places to read, as this family fear one day they will get a phone call from the police to say their son is dead, I can only imagine how they must have felt. The end of the book although it is clear that Henry still has his issues, I am pleased he is accepting of his condition and it was a nice end and I hope he continues to rally on. Although this book is old now I have not seen anything further by this family and hope all is well now.
October 26, 2014
This book has two great strengths. It's a compelling read about schizophrenia seen from the point of view of both father and son, and it demonstrates that reliance on mainstream psychiatry and medications makes recovery extremely difficult. I very much doubt that Patrick Cockburn (father of Henry) intended to make the second argument, especially about the medications, but it comes across loud and clear to someone like me who has been through the same kinds of experiences with my own son. This book should be on every psychology student's reading list, hopefully to sound the death knell on what passes today for help.
The purely biochemical approach to mental illness is a failed approach, but nonetheless still vigorously practiced by public institutions. That's the definition of insanity isn't it? To continue doing the same things and expecting to get the same result. After a hundred years, psychiatry still claims it is at a loss about what to do. This is disingenuous as ex-psychiatric patients have written tons of books on the subject. All you have to do is do your research, and then dig deeper. This is my big criticism of what transpired in the book, because people reading it will think, well, it's true, schizophrenia is a terrible scourge and there is no escape, and that medications are not especially effective, but then they may prevent people from harming themselves. I personally feel that since Patrick Cockburn is an investigative journalist, he should have done more homework. Aren't journalists supposed to be hardwired not to accept things at face value? There are two or more sides to every story.
Getting a person the help he or she needs unfortunately has to be done over the strenuous objections of mainstream psychiatry, which only holds out the promise of medication management of the "disease." You've got to be prepared to fight every step of the way. Mainstream psychiatry doesn't just demonize competitive psychotherapies, it objects to orthomolecular medicine (supplements), various kinds of sound therapy, hypnosis, and assemblage point shifts. It would object to even more alternatives if it knew what is really going on in the world of alternative help. In my son's case, it objected to any suggestions I had that did not fit into its straightjacket of medication and therapy lite. But my son is not getting well, I pleaded. It's a mystery, but we'll change the drugs, they offered.
What kind of psychotherapy could Henry have undertaken while he was still psychotic? Here are two suggestions. They both involve catharsis. No medical degree needed to research these. Direct Confrontation Therapy (DCT) and Family Constellation Therapy. Here is a quote from the father of son who was extremely gratified by the DCT results. "When an individual possesses a rigid delusional belief that he is overtaken by some daemonic force, although perhaps unconventional, the obvious thing to do is to aid that person in exorcising the daemonic force through a symbolic ritual of catharsis. With this interference out of the way more conventional approaches to psychotherapy can be undertaken."
Much of what is effective help for schizophrenia involves putting yourself in the other person's shoes, suspending your disbelief, and siding with your relative against forces conspiring to negate him. Henry was not supported in this way. His parents thought he was mad. He said he didn't want to take the medications because he wasn't mad, and they insisted, as parents are wont to do, that he really didn't know what was best for him. They didn't believe that he was in a spiritual awakening, as he stubbornly insisted he was. I notice that Patrick Cockburn thanks the psychiatrists at the end of this book, but Henry does not. Henry still thinks they are unhelpful, and he is right. Is his father politely thanking them out of professional courtesy, since he had said many times in the book that psychiatry did not help his son.
I know I am being hard on the parents here about taking the wrong side, but in reality, this is what most parents do, me included. At the beginning, I kept insisting that my son was mad, or lacking in insight, and that in order to protect his brain, he needed to take the medications. I was wrong. I was actually helping the medical pharmaceutical juggernaut at his expense. Changing my belief system about what schizophrenia is was the beginning of healing.
Henry's visions, his keen sense of social injustice and his barefoot wanderings in winter, remind me a lot of George Fox, the founder of the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers). Psychiatrists have judged him to be schizophrenic, as they would find most founders of major religions. If he were alive today, Jesus of Nazareth would be sectioned, along with William J. Seymour (Pentacostalism) and L. Ron Hubbard (Scientology).
From George Fox's journal: Then was I commanded by the Lord to pull off my shoes. I stood still, for it was winter; and the Word of the Lord was like a fire in me. So I put off my shoes, and left them with the shepherds; and the poor shepherds trembled, and were astonished. Then I walked on about a mile, and as soon as I was got within the city, the Word of the Lord came to me again, saying, "Cry, 'Woe to the bloody city of Lichfield!'" So I went up and down the streets, crying with a loud voice, "Woe to the bloody city of Lichfield!"
There are all kinds of ways to help a person in a spiritual crisis that speak to what they are going through, rather than isolating them as madmen. I became interested in the meaning of numbers as a yet another method of alternative healing. Numerology is how the ancients understood the world and they used it to inform their decision making. Different numbers and colors convey different meanings through their unique vibration. I wondered what life path Henry is on. Henry is a number seven. Number sevens are searchers and seekers of truth. They have a clear and compelling sense of themselves as a spiritual being. As a result, their goal is devoted to investigations into the unknown, and to finding the answers to the mysteries of life. Since Henry is also a Capricorn, I asked my Capricorn son for his opinion on why Henry stayed so long in hospital. "Because Capricorns are stubborn," he said. Repeatedly escaping and smoking dope did nothing to help his case, but he was stubborn. Also, my son added, number sevens have to go through long ordeals which will inform their life missions. Henry's life mission has been clear to Henry for a long time.
Patrick Cockburn was absolutely right to encourage his son to use his pain as his fuel by writing this book. I'm hoping that we will hear more in future about Henry's progress.
The purely biochemical approach to mental illness is a failed approach, but nonetheless still vigorously practiced by public institutions. That's the definition of insanity isn't it? To continue doing the same things and expecting to get the same result. After a hundred years, psychiatry still claims it is at a loss about what to do. This is disingenuous as ex-psychiatric patients have written tons of books on the subject. All you have to do is do your research, and then dig deeper. This is my big criticism of what transpired in the book, because people reading it will think, well, it's true, schizophrenia is a terrible scourge and there is no escape, and that medications are not especially effective, but then they may prevent people from harming themselves. I personally feel that since Patrick Cockburn is an investigative journalist, he should have done more homework. Aren't journalists supposed to be hardwired not to accept things at face value? There are two or more sides to every story.
Getting a person the help he or she needs unfortunately has to be done over the strenuous objections of mainstream psychiatry, which only holds out the promise of medication management of the "disease." You've got to be prepared to fight every step of the way. Mainstream psychiatry doesn't just demonize competitive psychotherapies, it objects to orthomolecular medicine (supplements), various kinds of sound therapy, hypnosis, and assemblage point shifts. It would object to even more alternatives if it knew what is really going on in the world of alternative help. In my son's case, it objected to any suggestions I had that did not fit into its straightjacket of medication and therapy lite. But my son is not getting well, I pleaded. It's a mystery, but we'll change the drugs, they offered.
What kind of psychotherapy could Henry have undertaken while he was still psychotic? Here are two suggestions. They both involve catharsis. No medical degree needed to research these. Direct Confrontation Therapy (DCT) and Family Constellation Therapy. Here is a quote from the father of son who was extremely gratified by the DCT results. "When an individual possesses a rigid delusional belief that he is overtaken by some daemonic force, although perhaps unconventional, the obvious thing to do is to aid that person in exorcising the daemonic force through a symbolic ritual of catharsis. With this interference out of the way more conventional approaches to psychotherapy can be undertaken."
Much of what is effective help for schizophrenia involves putting yourself in the other person's shoes, suspending your disbelief, and siding with your relative against forces conspiring to negate him. Henry was not supported in this way. His parents thought he was mad. He said he didn't want to take the medications because he wasn't mad, and they insisted, as parents are wont to do, that he really didn't know what was best for him. They didn't believe that he was in a spiritual awakening, as he stubbornly insisted he was. I notice that Patrick Cockburn thanks the psychiatrists at the end of this book, but Henry does not. Henry still thinks they are unhelpful, and he is right. Is his father politely thanking them out of professional courtesy, since he had said many times in the book that psychiatry did not help his son.
I know I am being hard on the parents here about taking the wrong side, but in reality, this is what most parents do, me included. At the beginning, I kept insisting that my son was mad, or lacking in insight, and that in order to protect his brain, he needed to take the medications. I was wrong. I was actually helping the medical pharmaceutical juggernaut at his expense. Changing my belief system about what schizophrenia is was the beginning of healing.
Henry's visions, his keen sense of social injustice and his barefoot wanderings in winter, remind me a lot of George Fox, the founder of the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers). Psychiatrists have judged him to be schizophrenic, as they would find most founders of major religions. If he were alive today, Jesus of Nazareth would be sectioned, along with William J. Seymour (Pentacostalism) and L. Ron Hubbard (Scientology).
From George Fox's journal: Then was I commanded by the Lord to pull off my shoes. I stood still, for it was winter; and the Word of the Lord was like a fire in me. So I put off my shoes, and left them with the shepherds; and the poor shepherds trembled, and were astonished. Then I walked on about a mile, and as soon as I was got within the city, the Word of the Lord came to me again, saying, "Cry, 'Woe to the bloody city of Lichfield!'" So I went up and down the streets, crying with a loud voice, "Woe to the bloody city of Lichfield!"
There are all kinds of ways to help a person in a spiritual crisis that speak to what they are going through, rather than isolating them as madmen. I became interested in the meaning of numbers as a yet another method of alternative healing. Numerology is how the ancients understood the world and they used it to inform their decision making. Different numbers and colors convey different meanings through their unique vibration. I wondered what life path Henry is on. Henry is a number seven. Number sevens are searchers and seekers of truth. They have a clear and compelling sense of themselves as a spiritual being. As a result, their goal is devoted to investigations into the unknown, and to finding the answers to the mysteries of life. Since Henry is also a Capricorn, I asked my Capricorn son for his opinion on why Henry stayed so long in hospital. "Because Capricorns are stubborn," he said. Repeatedly escaping and smoking dope did nothing to help his case, but he was stubborn. Also, my son added, number sevens have to go through long ordeals which will inform their life missions. Henry's life mission has been clear to Henry for a long time.
Patrick Cockburn was absolutely right to encourage his son to use his pain as his fuel by writing this book. I'm hoping that we will hear more in future about Henry's progress.
February 21, 2021
This is a very insightful, powerful and moving read. Written by a journalist father and artist son documenting the son's battle with schizophrenia and psychosis, it is eloquently written and fuses the family's personal story with political, psychological, artistic and sociological insights into schizophrenia and how it affects people portrayed through history and individuals known to the family.
Henry the son, was institutionalised for seven years and escaped these facilities over thirty times. His parents tried to rationalise what they might have done to contribute to his illness, which many families can relate to. They were supportive but had no knowledge, which many families can identify with too.
Henry struggles to see himself as ill and sees his delusions and hallucinations as visions. The treatment he receives is not always effective.
But eventually he is able to turn around the voices he hears into something positive, which I found inspirational.
This is one of the most courageous books I've ever read, and I thoroughly recommend it for anyone interested in mental illness and recovery.
Henry the son, was institutionalised for seven years and escaped these facilities over thirty times. His parents tried to rationalise what they might have done to contribute to his illness, which many families can relate to. They were supportive but had no knowledge, which many families can identify with too.
Henry struggles to see himself as ill and sees his delusions and hallucinations as visions. The treatment he receives is not always effective.
But eventually he is able to turn around the voices he hears into something positive, which I found inspirational.
This is one of the most courageous books I've ever read, and I thoroughly recommend it for anyone interested in mental illness and recovery.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
August 11, 2022
The Author is a well-known Iraq correspondent and his writing is what words are made of.
The chapters switch from Patrick's journey watching his son with Schizophrenia to his son Henry writing a chapter from his illness eyes. Quite remarkable, it took my breath away reliving the likeness to my mother's journey with Schizophrenia.
While most might pass on this book believing it is too "dark" to read, for me it was inspiring. Looking the other way on this read is why Schizophrenics are all thought to be dangerous! Patrick kept right on fighting walking in potholes and feeling every journey was a dead end. Henry had to find trust/faith knowing his cocktail of drugs would bring a better day and tossing them out would continue his high end psychotic episodes.
Read the book, understand what it feels like to live with this illness. SR
The chapters switch from Patrick's journey watching his son with Schizophrenia to his son Henry writing a chapter from his illness eyes. Quite remarkable, it took my breath away reliving the likeness to my mother's journey with Schizophrenia.
While most might pass on this book believing it is too "dark" to read, for me it was inspiring. Looking the other way on this read is why Schizophrenics are all thought to be dangerous! Patrick kept right on fighting walking in potholes and feeling every journey was a dead end. Henry had to find trust/faith knowing his cocktail of drugs would bring a better day and tossing them out would continue his high end psychotic episodes.
Read the book, understand what it feels like to live with this illness. SR
May 16, 2018
Det er enormt interessant at læse de afsnit skrevet af sønnen Henry, som lider af skizofreni - desværre er størstedelen af bogen skrevet af hans far, som virker som om han til tider ikke helt kan beslutte sig for om han vil skrive om sin søns sindslidelse eller sit eget ~vigtige~ job og spændende liv. I længden meget irriterende og frem for alt uinteressant. Men de kapitler og afsnit, der rent faktisk handler konkret om Henrys skizofreni, redder delvist bogen og gør den til (delvist) spændende læsestof trods alt.
March 10, 2018
3,5/5
Relato interessante sobre o desenvolvimento da esquizofrenia do filho do jornalista Patrick Cockburn, coautor junto ao filho esquizofrênico. A parte escrita por Patrick, por ter mais um aspecto jornalistico e informacional, acaba por parecer mais fria, embora haja enxertos dos diários de sua esposa, Jan, muito tocantes, assim como as partes escritas por Henry!
As doenças mentais, infelizmente, são algo que queremos colocar de lado, sendo que elas se espalham cada vez mais, e torna-se necessário percebermos que o outro passa por momento delicadíssimos.
Relato interessante sobre o desenvolvimento da esquizofrenia do filho do jornalista Patrick Cockburn, coautor junto ao filho esquizofrênico. A parte escrita por Patrick, por ter mais um aspecto jornalistico e informacional, acaba por parecer mais fria, embora haja enxertos dos diários de sua esposa, Jan, muito tocantes, assim como as partes escritas por Henry!
As doenças mentais, infelizmente, são algo que queremos colocar de lado, sendo que elas se espalham cada vez mais, e torna-se necessário percebermos que o outro passa por momento delicadíssimos.
October 30, 2017
I really enjoyed this book! I have read a lot of memoirs about mental illness and I thought this one was very unique in the way that it was cowritten by both someone struggling directly with schizophrenia, and from the perspective of a parent of someone with schizophrenia. I feel that the book really gives you the sense of the struggles of both authors in coming to terms with this illness. Easy to read and informative.
June 27, 2020
Henry & his father wrote alternate chapters about events that started with Henry's first psychotic break. This is a personal and heartbreaking look at this family's struggle to understand and help their son. Henry's chapters give perspective on psychosis from the inside and on why a person experiencing delusions & hallucinations may want to hold on to them. This book ends on an encouraging note.
Also try "The Quiet Room" by Lori Schiller, another look at schizophrenia from the inside.
Also try "The Quiet Room" by Lori Schiller, another look at schizophrenia from the inside.
September 10, 2020
I liked the idea of the book written by Henry and his father Patrick together, but it confused me that Patrick couldn't decide whether to write a biography or a handbook of schizophrenia. Many Finnish young people seem to think that cannabis isn't a real drug, but Henry's story reminds of the fact that cannabis probably is an essential trigger for psychoses for people who are genetically prone to them.
March 11, 2023
I enjoyed this book very much. The authors do a good job in explaining the ins and out of schizophrenia. Patrick said at once Henry didn’t want to say he was sick because if he did that his whole reality will not be what he thought. I loved the journey of Henry and how he finally recovered after 7 years. So there was no more getting naked in freezing snow. This book does a fantastic job in giving people who one may know has schizophrenia hope.
December 30, 2023
I made the mistake of leaving this book on my shelf for a few years before reading it. Firstly because now half the science is outdated, but hey, what can you do. That doesn’t take away from it at all in my opinion. Second because I was missing out on a touching, human story with incredible insight from multiple sources.
Most of the nitpicks I have with this book are a consequence of my own unwillingness to read it until recently, so I’ll keep them to myself.
Most of the nitpicks I have with this book are a consequence of my own unwillingness to read it until recently, so I’ll keep them to myself.
June 2, 2017
H. D. rang so very true to me. 1. The absolute frustration of his father when over 7 years or so nothing worked. 2. How Henry lived a life that was as real to him as anybody else’s. 3. The extremes that Henry went to in order to sabotage his own treatments. 4. The common threads between Henry’s schizophrenia and my personal experiences with it.
September 16, 2018
This book offers both an insider's and a family's experience of mental illness and how greviously they were impacted. One story, multiple perceptions of what the stark reality is of living with an unsound mind. Henry's excerpts interlaced with those of his father and mother made for powerful reading.
March 28, 2021
Patrick and Henry make a great story telling team. This is a unique insight into schizophrenia from the perspective of both the sufferer and a carer. Its well written and engaging, somehow making what must have been incredibly difficult periods of time into a flowing story. There's a lot to learn in this good read, I recommend it.
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