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Summary: A book that could yield a new definition of freedom
Review: This is one of those books that are not for the faint of heart. So many books in the world that people think are incendiary or revolutionary, challenging and rechallenging our conception of free speech, religion, citizenship, science and technology, philosophy, economics and politics or spirituality have an attraction to us because of how they serve as metaphors for the painful realities of our personal lives under the illusions we create for public consumption, and the secrets of our inner selves we wish to uncover. We yearn to break free of something and embrace some inner truth; we just don't know what, and therefore call it some aspect of the outer world. The desires we have to be and have more than what we are, the feelings of not knowing who we truly are and never truly being loved--and the root causes of such feelings--are unveiled in this powerful, disturbing, life shifting and life-affirming book. Alice Miller was one of the patron saints of John Bradshaw, the man whose work heralded the age of the Inner Child that became part of the pop-psychology lexicon of the 90's. Her perspective and conclusions, scientifically, sociologically and philosophically speaking, are practically undebateable. And without even needing the true case examples from her therapeutic practice to underscore her points (which she uses with striking and original clarity and precision across gender, racial, ethnic, cultural and socioeconomic lines), her elucidation of her central thesis on the ignored emotional life of children--and the cost of having parents unequipped to give them the love they need--will undoubtedly make deep seated memories of your own childhood come to the surface. Why does society have such automatic and irrational contempt for the egotist? Why do individulas run to prove themselves (or immediately start thinking of themselves defensively) as the antithesis, upon seeing anyone's character asessed in such a context? Why does even the WORD "self" conjure up confused and uncomfortable feelings when used in anything but a mind-numbing spiritual context with people? What do children need beyond basic nutritional and socioeconomic concerns, and what happens to them when they grow older but do not get it? How is it possible to have more material things and personal achievements than anyone, and still have less and less confidence in who you are? This book can explain things about your adult life and relationships that you'd rather not have so easily and individually explained. And those who look to books like these to figure out what's wrong with their friends, lovers and parents will discover more about themselves than they may think they're ready to process. We all are not just ready but overdue for these kinds of life lessons. Never has a writer, perhaps before or since, put the words "childhood" and "mourning" together in one thought, such that it can create a complete paradigm shift in how one sees oneself, and sees the opportunities for happiness one's world. The fault levied on any psychologist on her level- and there are very, very few- is that this kind of thinking all but demands the kind of narcisstic modern solipsism she seems to diagnose as symptomatic of the illness. (She refers to the dynamic not as an illness, however, but a "tragedy"; keeping us again, I believe, in tune with the ancient Greek mythic/philosophical reference inherent in the old title for this book, "The Drama of the Gifted Child".) Such blanket criticism of psychology books in general could only be concluded with one of this quality from a misreading of the text; the kind of misreading that usually comes when she has hit a nerve the likes of which one didn't expect, may be afraid of and couldn't imagine beforehand. Nonetheless, taking our culture's preoccupation with the self into consideration, there is still nothing of lasting value one could do in the world without at least endeavoring to answer the existential questions of soul, love, freedom, loss and pain- and the true self- that this book demands you to do in a new way for practically the rest of your life. I gave it four stars instead of five because it was too short. I didn't want it to end. And the idea that she could 1) prove her point, 2)deeply affect me by making me dream dreams that I've never dreamed before, 3)access undramatic but painful memories of childhood events that I forgot happened but have been behind more than half of the seemingly unrelated choices I've made in my adult life, and 4) feel a usually suppressed rage and grief give way to a new sense of purpose and a release of joyful energy and optimism- all in a little more than a hundred pages- still makes me queasy. In other words, read this as a five and a half star review! Then buy the book, put down the most recent bash on modern politics and the latest neo-spiritual mind candy on the bestseller's list, and begin a real journey.
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Summary: Groundbreaking introduction to childhood experience!
Review: Very gentle introduction to the concept of re-experienced childhood feelings as the key to (self-)healing in suffering adults. Rather than a work-book this is a map of the feel-scape we all experienced as children. The author's expertise is conveyed in inviting eloquence rather than in psycho-jargon.
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Summary: Seasick
Review: When I closed Alice Miller's book the word "nauseating" kept arising in my mind. At first I thought, "That's an awfully dramatic way to say you didn't like a book." Then I realized it was almost literally true. I was a tiny bit queasy after the experience. I then realized it was the same queasiness I get when I'm in the presence of delusion. When someone I don't know well comes into my study for a visit (I'm a pastor of a small urban church), and they start talking, and I begin to understand they're delusional, I get a little sick feeling in my stomach. In interacting with a delusional person, there's a sense of a loss of moorings. This person isn't, in the full sense, living in the same world I am, and if I am to have a meaningful talk with them, I'll need to stand on some common ground with them. A search begins for what aspects of reality we can agree on, since only from there can I go on to find ways to assist this person in testing reality. Until that common ground is found, it's as if I've left terra firma, I'm at sea, and the effect on me (this is slight, mind you, I don't vomit or even grimace) is that of seasickness. Reading Alice Miller I have a gnawing sense of being in the presence of someone whose reality-testing is deficient. It isn't gross; it's not like a man who believes the police in town are doing no work other than spying on him. But it's there. First, there are stories in the book I cannot believe. Foremost is the one about the woman who "remembered" being raped by three people at the age of three months. My objections to accepting this story at face value are many, and I know that at least some of them are shared by highly competent mental health professionals, including experts in memory. The data and arguments required to convince me of this story would take a book thicker than /Drama/. Next (and much subtler), there was something just slightly off in the telling of the story about the ice cream bars that begins chapter 3. It's hard to put my finger on it, but I can at least point out that the phrase "he cried in despair" misuses the word "despair," whose precise clinical meaning should be known to and respected by anyone who deals with depressives. (I know there's a translator involved, but still. . .) Although no other use of language in this story is actually wrong in the same way, still the entire telling is consistent with this very slight hyperbolic twisting. My impression, in the end, is that Miller doesn't grasp the whole distinction between the trauma of triple rape and the trauma of being denied ice cream. What is at stake here is the crucial matter of where the line should be drawn between the unhealthy squashing of a child's spirit and the sorts of wish-denial that will always be necessary to socialization. The boundary markers have been removed in my lifetime, and in many ways this is good. But modern parents work in an environment in which the boundary markers haven't found a new home, and this is very bad. Based on /Drama/ I distrust Miller as the guide who can show us where the markers ought to be.
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Summary: Who am I, really?
Review: When I read this book (which was originally published in German in 1979) for the first time in the early eighties, it completely swept me off my feet. Here was an analysis that explained why I was in search of my 'true self', why I felt my achievements were 'empty', why I felt empathy for others and antipathy for myself. The idea proposed by Alice Miller, in a nutshell, was that there are children who are able to feel and ease the emotional insecurity of their mothers (the 'gift' of the title), thus gain her love but in the process deny their own desires. These children grow up to become helpers in various roles, including therapists - like Alice Miller herself. They develop sensors for the subconscious signals of the needs of others. The problem is, they subconsciously deny themselves the pursuit of their own needs, and consequently cannot become who they 'are'. Which makes them prone to the illnesses which, according to the Freudian theory, go with suppressed desires ¡V depression and grandiosity (the latter being just a way of keeping depression at bay). Alice Miller¡¦s ideas are based on her experiences as a psychotherapist who practiced for 20 years, and her own self-analysis. Her reasoning draws on some basic Freudian ideas: if the subconscious is brought to consciousness, the illnesses caused by the suppression can eventually be contained; the life of a person is rooted in her childhood and childhood experiences shape who a person 'is'. In the last part of her book she adds a theory derived from her work experience: when children whose needs have been denied in their childhood grow up and have children of their own, they can 'get rid' of their pain by inflicting the pain on their own children. She calls it the vicious circle of disdain, and the handing down of destructive attitudes from one generation to the next like a chain reaction. How do I see 'The Drama of the Gifted Child' almost 20 years after reading it for the first time? I continue to be convinced that the general argument is true. Alice Miller captures very well the emotional consequences of denying one¡¦s own desires in the service of a person whose love is so overpoweringly important that it demands the sacrifice of one¡¦s 'true' self. Hermann Hesse¡¦s life and works provide her with excellent examples to illustrate this, by the way. On some cornerstones of her argument, however, I have my doubts now. Firstly, the idea of a 'true self', chiseled in stone if you so want, does not sit very well with me any more. Secondly, her thesis completely omits the role of fathers (quite un-Freudian, by the way), and what I saw as a refreshingly new point of view 20 years ago, looks like a major shortcoming to me now. Thirdly, having read up on some developmental psychology, I do not believe any longer that early experience inexorably shapes our lives. Finally, I think humans are so complex that there can not be a simple mechanism such as a handing down of certain attitudes: there are just too many exceptions from the rule. 'The Drama of the Gifted Child' is a powerful book and it is worth reading even after 20 years. It is not a scientific book in the sense that it contains testable findings, it presents a practitioner¡¦s conclusions gained from personal experience. You may call it an informed speculation, or an interim report from 'the search for the true self' as it is subtitled.
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Summary: This book was the turning point in my healing.
Review: Without going into too much detail this book was the closure I had been looking for for years. I was at a point in my healing where I felt that I was stuck. I had explored all avenues of my past and had come to an understanding of my childhood and how it affected me especially my relationship with my mother. It wasn't until I read this book that it all became so clear. I had been hanging on to all the hurt I felt in relation to my mother and our relationship, and it wasn't until I read a statement in this book that I was able to let it all go. The statement read something like this, "Get over it!" It was so profound and so simple. It is a wonder I never thought of it before. Alice Miller's way of describing what it is like to be in such an unstable household was so simple yet straightforward. She talked like I talked and we seemed to be speaking the same language. I am sure that is why I related so well to this book. I recommend this book to anyone who has come from a "dysfunctional yet unstable family" and who may be having trouble with "love" and relationships. It is an easy read yet so profound. This book took my breath away and it is a treasure I will keep always.
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