GOOD MORNING, MONSTER :: Catherine Gildiner

A version of this review previously appeared in Shelf Awareness and is republished here with permission.

Any doubt that seeking therapy is courageous will be put to rest by the patient profiles detailed in Good Morning, Monster. Catherine Gildiner is a clinical psychologist and author of a trilogy of memoirs (including Coming Ashore). As pseudo-memoirist for five of her most layered and poignant clients, Gildiner clearly demonstrates the value of analysis, the resilience of the human spirit and the vast generosity of sharing one's life story.

The patients vary in culture, socio-economic background and temperament. Within their treatments, Gildiner highlights tools available to clinicians to facilitate acknowledgment and change. Despite these interesting instructive moments, Good Morning, Monster is not aimed at academics; rather, it provides a window for the lay person to bear witness to the most intimate of processes.

The levels of despair and dreadfulness underlying each of the five stories can't be overstated. There is abuse, violence and neglect of every gradient. But there is also growth, buoyancy and wonderful wit and humor ("Laura" on intimacy: "Christ! Why not just dance naked in the streets?").

Gildiner is a talented narrator and admirably summarizes years of sessions without the accounts feeling choppy or incomplete. She's also wonderfully frank about her own mistakes and misreads as a psychologist, and she is quick to seek outside guidance when beneficial (finding cultural resources to aid a Cree man, for example). With hard work, each client reckons with the demons they wake with each morning, even when they've been told they themselves are the monster.

STREET SENSE: Anyone interested in the human mind and the resilience of the spirit in the face of extreme adversity, sign up for this one. It's really beautifully done, and while at times a difficult read (due to subject matter, not the writing), the payoff is worth it. Talk therapy can be a lot of work and results can come at a cost, but the value really can't be overstated. Get yourself in there, yo. Everyone could use a little help.

A FAVORITE PASSAGE:  I'm going to include a few, about the case of Laura, who came in due to stress. Her resistance to therapy and the ultimate lengths taken by the author to break through feel like a good microcosm of how hard therapy can be, but how finding the right person to talk to can be magic.

Laura came in completely shut down, unwilling to share her story. She just wanted help with stress:

"When I said that I was empathizing with her, she rebuffed me. 'That’s what you say to people when someone dies. Listen, Doctor, if I’m ever to come back here, I never want you to do that again, or I’ll walk out. Keep your empathy or whatever it is to yourself.' 'Why?' I asked, genuinely puzzled. 'When you say things about feelings, I see a door opening that’s full of hobgoblins and I am never going to enter that room,' she said emphatically. 'I have to keep going. If I ever started to wallow, even once, I’d drown. Plus, it doesn’t make things any better.'"

Laura's story eventually started coming out, even though she was in denial about her past:

"When I asked how she felt about being abandoned, Laura looked at me as though I were being melodramatic. She said, 'We weren’t exactly abandoned. My dad knew I was there to deal with things.' 'You were nine years old, penniless and alone in a forest. What would you call it?' I said. 'I guess technically it was abandonment, but my dad had to get out of Bobcaygeon. He didn’t want to leave us. He had no choice.'"

I loved Laura because she was a fucking hard nut with an awesome sense of humor. You should read this book just to get to know Laura. She eventually came to terms with her demons, but not before Gildiner took her on a field trip to an elementary school where she saw the lives of REAL 9-year-old girls. Who were skipping rope and playing foursquare, not caring for younger siblings alone in a fucking forest. It was one of the most powerful things I've ever read.

COVER NERD SAYS: This cover is beautiful. I suppose I get the symbolism of the swan, and it's as good a choice as any for the cover of a book dealing with transformation. The connection to the text is symbolic, but it really just doesn't matter because it's pretty and well done. Minimalist, eye-catching, subtitle helps make it fairly obvious what's inside. Winner.