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The
Lily Pond is a one-of-a-kind book. It is so much more than a
book about mental illness; it could hardly be further from a self-help book or
a popular-style “recovery memoir”. There is not a buzz-word to be found in it,
not a single stereotype or oversimplification, not a second’s pandering to the
voyeuristic impulse of a public hungry for sensational true stories. No
sermonizing, no self-congratulation. Instead, with humbling honesty, and
bringing a formidable intelligence to bear on the subject, Barnes gives us a
rare inside look at mental illness and its treatments, interweaving
autobiography with reflections on paintings, literary works, myth, metaphor,
and scientific lore. His interest is in the psyche’s resources for
healing and in the universals of the human condition as filtered through the
particulars of his life experience. His book is, perhaps more than
anything, a work of philosophy and a testament to human resilience and
creativity.
One
of the things I love in The Lily Pond is the voice in which
the essays unfold: measured and sober, meditative, freeassociative, often
mesmerizing, yet enlivened by unexpected turns of the imagination (think Oliver
Sacks, think W. G. Sebald.) It’s a book that digs deep and wakens
wonder – a deep-sea dive of a book, able to pull me in again and again to
surface each time with an enriched appreciation of the things that matter in
life.
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