Books like The Disordered Mind — picked by fans

One of Oliver Sack’s delightful books containing stories of individuals with various neurological disorders. I read the first one, The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat, back in the 1980s  when it first came out and was hooked, now having read almost all of them.

The one I am recommending is, I believe, more relevant to an understanding of brain mechanisms. One criticism I have had of Sack’s books is that there is little in the way of neurobiological explanations for the conditions described. In my book, most chapters begin with a Sack-like story about a specific neurological condition that is then explained, as far as possible, neurobiologically in the chapter.

Although this book has been around for a very long time, I only encountered it earlier this year.

It is a scientific fiction novel based on a supposed treatment given to a mentally handicapped young man (Charlie) that gave him great intelligence. This treatment had been tried earlier on mice (one being Algernon), enabling them to do cognitive tasks impossible for ordinary mice. The basis for much of the book was that the treatment was not permanent, and first, Algernon and then Charlie deteriorated back to where they were cognitively before the treatment.

The book beautifully describes what it was like (in Charlie’s own words) to be cognitively disabled before the treatment and how he was treated by people; then, when the treatment was effective, and finally, as he was deteriorating, which he recognized was happening. Although fictional, the descriptions of the cognitive changes in Charlie are compelling.

I very much enjoy reading biographies and autobiographies about scientists. My favorite is Cajal’s autobiography.

Cajal is considered by many to be the Father of Neuroscience. He grew up in Spain, where he lived his entire life. He loved to draw and wanted to become an artist, but his father discouraged this, so he went to medical school. He used his artistic skills to great advantage when he began to study the brain and its cells. His drawings are meticulous, exceptionally accurate, and have never been surpassed.

Virtually every book on neuroscience includes some of his drawings. This book recounts not only his scientific career but also other of his fascinations. He loved chess and played it with individuals all over the world, but he gave it up because it was taking up too much of his time.

This fascinating book is essentially the story of prefrontal lobotomies and the surgery that was developed to carry out the procedure. Although it did help certain violent patients, it had serious side effects not recognized initially and was used inappropriately on too many patients (including President Kennedy’s sister).

The book recounts the history of why the procedure was developed and many of the scientists and surgeons involved. It provides a perfect case study of the caution needed when a new, thought to be miraculous, treatment for any disease is first tried.

I truly loved this book because Dr. Daniel Amen is the best in his class. He is a dedicated brain scientist, author, and life changer. I’ve read all of his books because they teach us all how to benefit our brains to change our lives forever.

This book has helped me personally, and so has his research. He's a personal friend and one hell of a game-changer when it comes to recognizing the importance of altering the conversation from mental health to brain health.

He is an important figure of this or any time; the world is lucky he's here to make us all better, one brain at a time. 

This is a compassionate look at addictions, covering neuroscience and how peoples’ lack of attachments can set them up for life-long struggles. The rationale for an anti-oppressive harm reduction approach helps build relationships, expand our understanding of addictions, and reduce the shame and guilt that come with trauma.

This book did more to push me to think about my practice and start truly understanding how trauma impacts the brain and how meaningful relationships can act to soothe people who are isolated, lonely, and disconnected.

For many people struggling in their lives, their template of the world is that people cannot be trusted. This is profoundly sad, so Maté offers insight into seeing the parts of the world we don’t even want to acknowledge in a different way. This offers hope.

I am recommending this book as it was written by a dear friend and colleague of mine who is also an incredibly talented author who doesn’t shy away from writing about matters such as mental illness, family dynamics, and what makes us human. Her book is the first in a beautifully written series.

The 1840 burial of Napoleon’s remains in the Invalides coincided with the psychiatric admission of fourteen men who claimed they were the real Napoleon, and he lived on yet. A number of Napoleons—or those claiming to be Napoleon’s son—had also emerged during the emperor’s own lifetime, suffering from the recently identified “delusions of grandeur” diagnosis.

Murat offers a larger study of madness and asylums in nineteenth-century France, and the impact of political events, including the French Revolution and the Terror, on psychiatric patients and doctors. Her chapter on “madhouse Napoleons” is particularly intriguing, as it reveals how the ghosts of powerful historical leaders can infiltrate the minds of the disturbed. For me, the book also raises questions about memory and psychology more generally, about why the mad latched onto Napoleon specifically, and how history or historical figures can live on in surprising places.

Terese Marie Mailhot’s raw account of her traumatic childhood and its enduring consequences took my breath away. A nearly lifelong Alaskan, I am acutely aware of the social problems afflicting Indigenous communities; in fact, I’ve done research on the topic.

Yet, I have never read a more honest, painful, and beautifully written testimonial by an Indigenous person about her experience with childhood poverty and neglect, substance abuse in the home, sexual abuse, and resulting poor self-esteem and self-doubt. Mailhot, who was raised on Seabird Island in British Columbia, began writing her memoir as mental health therapy and it became a process of self-discovery.

Her experience highlights the effects of historical trauma on Indigenous individuals and communities, as well as the prevalence of maltreatment of Indigenous women. 

A man called “Pepper,” who may or may not suffer from mental illness, ends up in a locked mental ward in Queens, New York, where the entire novel takes place.

A beast, who the patients believe is the devil, comes out at night, assaulting and sometimes killing patients. Patient deaths are chalked up to suicide. The engaging, quirky characters—drugged to the gills while warehoused and essentially untreated in a public hospital—share the defining feature of being low-income and unprotected from both the supernatural and human forces that would destroy them. They must take matters into their own hands to protect themselves.

I appreciated the theme of how marginalization and isolation presented as much terror here as the supernatural. Yet, the hope and humor of the characters also kept me engaged and frequently smiling.