100 Books Like Closing The Asylum

This is another Victorian Broadmoor book and also one that lives well beyond the walls. William Chester Minor, a wealthy and educated New Englander, was a Broadmoor patient who dedicated his hospital life to assisting with the first Oxford English Dictionary. Simon Winchester weaves together Minor’s story with that of James Murray: two eccentric obsessives who bond over common labour. The book puts the idea of criminal lunacy into a wider perspective and also succeeds in making a potentially dry, academic topic into a page-turning read.

I don’t often read nonfiction, but Kate Summerscale’s meticulously researched book, with all the gritty details about a Victorian-era matricide, reads like a suspenseful novel.

The discussions of views about insanity, criminality, penny dreadfuls (or penny bloodies as some called them), and treatment of criminals and the insane at the time absolutely fascinated me. Summerscale follows Robert Coombes, who was only 13 when the crime was committed, from his childhood into adulthood.

I found this book a completely edifying experience—by the end of the story, I felt like I knew Robert, even if I couldn’t understand his crime.

I like to write about public Victorian asylums – where the bulk of English people with mental illnesses were admitted.  But the counterpoint is the private system, where the poor, rich mad spent their time in nice surroundings with wacky treatments. Sarah Wise captures this perfectly through a real-life investigation of the people in the attic – think Jane Eyre, or The Woman in White – and how the law sought to protect them.

Long before the Victorian asylums, there was Bethlem – London’s ancient hospital for lunatics. Like Broadmoor, Bethlem also looked after high-profile criminals, but within a private and charitable institution that was mostly for the capital’s waifs and strays. Bedlam gives you a sense of how mental health developed as a concept from the medieval period to the present day.

The prose style in the memoir, Girl, Interrupted, is clean, concise, and unembellished. The spare writing leaves no room for self-pity, yet still tells a vivid story of mental unraveling and convalescence concurrently. Kaysen meets a cast of vulnerable characters during her nearly year-long commitment in a psychiatric hospital. They form unlikely friendships, and we get to know all of their various neuroses in a stifling environment that is at once a cage and a path to self-discovery and health. 

I was reminded of my own two commitments to psychiatric hospitals, how strange and austere the world became in those weeks, how time became irrelevant with the breakfast, lunch and dinner announcements, medication time, nightly bed checks, and the ironic “fresh air breaks,” on the back steps of the ward where I and my own unlikely cast of characters smoked cigarettes and commiserated about our unique predicaments. 

I was… show more.

I once worked on a film shoot at the infamous Friern Barnet Asylum in London, an imposing building that boasts the longest corridor in Europe at over a third of a mile long. It was my job to lock up after filming was over each night, and to do so, I had to walk the long corridor with just a flashlight for company… and the ghosts rumoured to haunt the building! I have never forgotten the feeling of dread and despair in that place, and my heart went out to the patients who were isolated in the creepy basement wards. Barbara Taylor gives an inside perspective on this fearsome institution in her book, which is both an achingly honest account of mental illness and addiction, and a critique of community care.

The abuse of power is a running theme in the history of psychiatry. Psychiatry has often been wielded to control those who challenge the status quo. This book neatly and creatively unearths one such attempt to stifle dissent by labeling it mad.

Focusing on a mental hospital in Michigan, Jonathan Metzl shows how schizophrenia was harnessed to pathologize Black Civil Rights activism in the 1960s. In the process, schizophrenia was transformed from a condition mainly diagnosed in whites to one that stressed violence and aggression and was mainly diagnosed in black males. I especially love how Metzl punctuates his historical analysis with poignant stories of individuals caught up in this dark period of racism in psychiatry. 

The late Elizabeth Wurtzel’s Prozac Nation is brilliantly constructed, intelligent, gritty, direct, even sardonic at times. She was a no-bullshit writer, a forerunner in the field of literary nonfiction, one of the first writers of her generation to tell the truth about mental illness and bulldoze the taboo of stigma related to this otherwise unpalatable topic.  

In this memoir, she takes us by the hand and pulls us tenderly at times, and forcefully at other times, into her intimate world of mental illness. Even as a little girl away at camp she struggles with depression and contemplations of life and death; she attempts suicide for the first time at camp. Later, as an award-winning Harvard student, we see her deteriorate further into madness, until at last she is prescribed Prozac, and things turn around. While the meds help her, she also had foresight into the dangers of pharmaceutical companies, and… show more.

I picked this book up as I suffer with OCD and welcomed a genuine account of the effects it has on day-to-day life.

This, however, was just that but also gloriously uplifting and funny. I both cried and laughed, and sometimes a mixture! So, although this is non-fiction it follows Bryony’s journey as if following a protagonist in a novel, making it compelling and heart-wrenching.

A poetic book that brought me into the meaningful world of the "mental patient."

Hornstein’s beautifully written book compels us not to dismiss the stories that patients are trying to tell. I was mesmerized by the examples in this book, in particular that of Agnes Richter, a German woman who stitched tiny, almost indecipherable, autobiographical texts into every inch of the jacket she created from her institutional uniform.

This book is a tribute to the capacity of the human spirit and our need to tell our stories of suffering.