"Committed" fuses personal narrative and literary analysis to expertly relate the experiences of women writers and creators across generations who have battled the medical establishments and societies that attempt to mold, compact, and diminish them. From Virginia Woolf to Sylvia Plath to Sinéad O'Connor, Scanlon traces the legacy of madwomen and the costs of their rebellion.

Suzanne Scanlon was a lonely student at Barnard when, in 1992, she was committed to New York State Psychiatric Institute after a suicide attempt. Scanlon was variously diagnosed with chronic depression, major depression, bipolar disorder and, most commonly, dysthymia. During her commitment, Scanlon reports that “[t]hey needed me to get better and instead I got better at being sick. I got better at being a mental patient. I got better at planning my death and better at speaking to psychiatrists.”

Scanlon, whose mother died of breast cancer when she was 8 years old, experienced chaos and neglect when her father quickly remarried, and she and her three siblings had come to an “unspoken agreement” that they “would not speak of her, of the mother who left.” She reports in a stream of consciousness about her stay (she wrestles with using the word “live” since her hospitalization “wasn’t about living”) at the nineteenth century asylum (where second hand smoke is not mentioned) from March of 1992 through August of 1994, but she also addresses more broadly women’s mental health and the patriarchy. She begins with “hysteria,” the first disease attributable to women, the wildly popular late nineteenth century “rest cure” which was considered the best practice for treating all sorts of nervous disorders, and multiple personality disorders (“recovered memories” were in vogue when Scanlon was hospitalized and she was urged to “remember” abuse at the hands of her father and brothers). She has a unique perspective about social media, reasoning that “[i]n the midst of despair or loneliness now, a person might post something to social media and receive an instant response, and while those posts surely don’t always relieve symptoms, there’s some possibility of connection.”

It’s not surprising that Scanlon, currently a professor of creative writing at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago and an artist-in-residence at Northwestern University, discusses the works of numerous authors, the usual suspects, such as Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf and Charlotte Perkins Gilman, but also James Baldwin, Flannery O’Connor, Henry James, Margaret Atwood, Sandra Cisneros and Raymond Carver. She has said in interviews that “I came to imagine these writers as my mother, as the books my mother would have written. This is all in the realm of fantasy but it was and remains quite motivating to me.”

Scanlon writes “about how I lost my mind. I am writing about how I was institutionalized for many years. I am writing about that space the writer occupies, that balance between sanity and insanity.” Her book is painfully honest and raw. While not a redemptive narrative, Scanlon seems to have learned to live with her brokenness. Thank you Vintage and Net Galley for an advance copy of this difficult but important read.

Technically 4.5 stars, but I’m rounding up.

I’m no stranger to writing on mental illness, specifically women’s mental illness, and I’m willing to call Committed the best memoir on the topic I’ve read in recent years. Weaving together her years-long experience at the New York State Psychiatric Institute, the factors that led to her hospitalization, and discussions of women writers who’ve suffered similar fates, Scanlon managed to write a book that transformed my perspective of my own mental illness—not an easy feat.

Unlike memoirs along the lines of Elizabeth Wurtzel’s Prozac Nation or Marya Hornbacher’s Wasted, Committed benefits greatly from the 25-plus years that passed between Scanlon’s hospitalization and her writing of the book: Her perspective is mature, wise, and self aware, and she doesn’t glamorize her experience as writers sometimes tend to do. Rather, Scanlon is curious to understand her time at the institution, as well as how it subsequently shaped her life and identity as a “madwoman” or “ex-patient.” From the start, I was happy join her on this journey.

The sections that stood out as particularly striking were those in which Scanlon discusses her relationships with other mentally ill women writers, among them Sylvia Plath, Shulamith Firestone, and Janet Frame. These relationships are deeply personal, and I applaud Scanlon for teasing them out so thoroughly; I’ve had similar affinities for long-dead women writers (Virginia Woolf, most notably), and have as yet been unable to articulate what exactly draws me to them so strongly. In these passages, I see a lineage of female writers forming, which is nothing short of thrilling.

My criticisms of Committed are largely in regard to pacing and format. The narrative lost momentum at times, and some pages seemed to drag on a tad too long. I was also unable to discern a clear logic behind the book’s organization: I don’t mind jumping back and forth in time, but couldn’t anticipate when this might happen, which left me confused more than once. That said, my praise of Committed far outweighs my criticism, and I’m happy to forgive these flaws.

Though the memoir’s subject matter is not light, I highly recommend Committed—to women, to writers, to patients past and present, and to mental healthcare workers as well. They have a lot to answer for.

Thank you to NetGalley and Knopf, Pantheon, Vintage, and Anchor for the advanced copy!

An incredibly captivating memoir about a woman who spent many years living in a psychiatric institution. There’s a heavy focus on female writers and how their portrayal of mental illness in literature helped the author understand her own struggles. This was raw and often heartbreaking with an important message about learning to overcome being labeled by a diagnosis.

This may be one of my most favorite nonfiction reads.

I first started this book thinking it would be like Prozac Nation but to make that comparison would be reductive of both Scanlon and Wurtzel's respective works.

How Scanlon feels about the works she references is how I feel for Committed. Somehow this collection manages to be deeply personal without feeling too self-indulgent. There is something different about Scanlon's prose-- there is almost a detached element to it. I'm not sure how to best describe it, you'd really have to experience it for yourself.

Committed shocked me and moved me. It made me feel incredibly uncomfortable and incredibly seen. I enjoyed the disjointed timeline, jumping from past to present. It conveyed how impossible it must feel to tell such a story linearly.

Some of Scanlon’s opinions challenged me. To be honest, I’m still digesting how I feel about it all, and I think I will be for a long time. Overall I appreciated Scanlon’s critique of the mental health industry, especially in the 90s. Mental health is complex, and oftentimes the people suffering the most can end up being dehumanized and even commodified. I look forward to seeing what Scanlon does next.

Scanlon reflects on her years-long hospitalization in a psychiatric institute in the 1990s, situating her experiences in the larger context of feminism, madness, and women writers. The part of me that shares an interest in critical theory, feminist literature, and the history of mental institutions found this quite captivating. I could very much relate to the author's reflections even if I did not experience it myself.

However, the memoir is long and not the best organized. Beyond being a thoughtful, intellectual reflection, I'm not convinced Committed adds anything specific to the canon of feminist reflections on madness that hasn't already been covered.

Thank you to NetGalley and Vintage for the e-arc.

A captivating read. I inhaled this (being of the same generation (Gen X) as the author). Who controls the narrative frame of your mental health? What will we do to receive the care we need? How can turning inward also be a means of communication?

DNF at 20%. This sounded interesting at first, but it just wasn't really doing much for me unfortunately.

Reflecting on her years spent at New York's State Psychiatric Institute after a failed suicide attempt, Suzanne Scanlon's memoir reflects on her process of understanding her illness in the discourse of a mad woman. Within Committed, Scanlon shares the importance of owning the narrative to deconstruct the shame and self-loathing others can easily make us internalize.

Dealing with the grief of losing her mother as a young child and years spent in a psych ward in the 1990s, Scanlon discovers herself through her creative writing practice and finds solace among fellow troubled women writers like Plath, Duras, and Woolfe. The literature insights, for me, really curated a greater understanding of the context of how women's mental health has been narrated over the decades.

Committed is ultimately about the importance of owning the narrative. There is importance to sharing the truth of ourselves, the truth of our life, our illness, of taking control of the narrative so that we shape them and are not shaped by them.

The subject matter does not lend itself to being an easy read, but it's a necessary one. The timeline does skip around, so I lost a sense of time every so often. Nevertheless, I've added a list of books and titles from the authors mentioned that I'm looking forward to exploring.

Thank you to the publishers and NetGalley for an ARC of Committed.

This was a great book and a very compelling read. The author uses her experiences with mental illness in an institutional setting to tell a very personal story interwoven with the stories of other women writers who faced similar challenges. The subject matter was even-handed, but never dry, and provided a lot of education to better understand people struggling with mental illness, the institutions that housed them, and the evolution of mental illness treatment in general.

A profound story of one women's journey dealing with mental illness. I've read several books on the subject but never told quite like this. The author tells her tale and references a few classic literary books and the impact they've had on her life. It was so interesting because I've read those books but reading this book put a completely different light on them and shows the impact books can have on us. The only criticism I have is that the timeline jumps around from time to time and is a bit repetitive. Otherwise this is brilliant. Thanks to Netgalley, the author and publishers for an advanced copy in exchange for my honest opinion.

This is a powerful memoir that aims to debunk societal myths and connect with other mentally ill women. Scanlon often discusses how women writers use writing as a creative practice to escape the confines of their illnesses. She frames insanity as a deeply lonely experience, one that stems from an oversensitivity, sense of otherness, and fear to engage with the world. Sylvia Plath, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Virginia Woolf, Shulamith Firestone, and Janet Frame each have their own segment. Their lives are sometimes tragic, sometimes triumphant in the face of an indifferent world and often exploitative medical system.

Another dimension of this memoir is deeply personal to Scanlon. She revisits the trauma of growing up with a terminally ill mother and how her own repression of the damage led to a mental break. Most of the memoir takes place within the walls of a psychiatric hospital. How isolating, yet familiar such an existence can become. How infantilizing it is to rely on doctors and nurses for empty platitudes and mind-numbing drugs. She feels a repulsion towards other patients, yet recognizes that she is just as reliant on the system as they are.

Overall, I found the structure to be lacking and almost gave up 75% through the book. I'm happy that I stuck it out though, since the last quarter held some of the most insight. This felt like a meditation on what it means to be not just a mental patient, but a person stuck in a state of arrested development—first as a victim of cruel fate, but later possibly self-imposed. Any of us can benefit from noticing when we are becoming complacent under the shackles of our roles.

Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for the thought provoking ARC.

…It would be a year or two before I read Acker, before I read the way she channeled madness into artistic practice, and the space she would open for me. Writing is like suicide, she wrote, only you don’t have to die...

The rest of review of this fine book can be read for free here:

https://open.substack.com/pub/msarki/p/committed-on-meaning-and-madwomen?r=jo10o&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web

Fantastic memoir on mental illness and women and writers. Institutionalized for many years after a suicide attempt, Suzanne Scanlon, details her journey with mental illness. As a writer and a reader, she can't help but include notable female authors with suicidal ideation (Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf, Janet Frame, Audre Lorde....)

Scanlon explores the 'mad woman" or "crazy" woman ideal that is often used with discussing mental illness. It's one that is still happening today, in fact.

I think this book is interesting in that it's an honest portrait of mental health. It's a powerful undertaking and Scanlon did a wonderful job with the most difficult subject.

5 stars

There is so much to dislike about the world and about the generally terrible treatment of various populations (including but not limited to women and those experiencing mental health crises), but there is a lot to like about this memoir/missive.

Scanlon takes readers through some of the early challenges, mainly the loss of her mother, that shaped her young existence and landed her ultimately in a mental health facility at a pivotal time. While Scanlon's experiences are gripping and heartrending on their own, what she makes of her path through later reflection is even more fascinating.

Reading widely provided Scanlon with great incoming knowledge of the treatment of women and their mental health in literature, but her own encounters caused Scanlon to see a deeper value in this literature and to see herself in a different way, too. For me, this is the unexpected highlight of the book: Scanlon's dissection of how literature provides windows and mirrors for readers and allows us to build empathy for others and more grace for ourselves. Anyone who has experience with mental illness, the various identities discussed here, and even the sense that they've better understood some aspect of the world or themselves through reading will find this book even more powerful than they may have expected at first blush.

By its nature, some of this content will be too much for certain audiences. Those who can manage the content safely will find this piece extraordinarily resonant. I'll be recommending it mindfully and enthusiastically.

This was a memoir of a young woman who was institutionalized for a few years in a mental hospital in NYC. It all seemed to stem from a profound grief, almost a loss of self, after the death of her mother from breast cancer when Suzanne was a little girl. Interwoven with all of this was Suzanne's revelatory discoveries of female authors with suicidal ideation such as Syvia Plath, Virginia Woolf, Janet Frame, Audre Lorde, Shulamith Firestone, and Charlotte Perkins Gilman. Suzanne treasured books, always reading and writing, and ultimately became a teacher, discussing some of these books.

It was an interesting voyeur experience into the world of mental illness, navigating the treatments, therapies, medications, etc. I did feel a kinship with the author as far as reading, how you intensely connect with some books, especially in your youth, and feel a lifelong bond with them like treasures; how they also serve as a comforting balm.

The book could have used a little more editing and focus, as some of the concepts became repetitive and time frames moved back and forth. Honestly, some of the psychological passages went over my head, but others were compelling. In particular, I found it interesting how one psych doctor talked Suzanne down from suicidal ideation by telling her she should get some coffee (Suzanne didn't ever drink coffee) and just go to her class (Suzanne didn't feel like she was able to get out of bed). Overall, this was a worthwhile and thought provoking read about trying to make it through this thing called life.

Thank you to the publisher Vintage for providing an advance reader copy via NetGalley.

Suzanne Scanlon's story comes in the form of a staccato memoir. Popping in and out of memories related to her depression and suicidal ideation, she shifts in and out of a historical exploration related to all things madness and insanity. Committed is a brave telling of one woman's experiences of mental health, grief, and eventually motherhood. It was compelling to read about someone who was institutionalized for years - something that's unheard of today.

As both a clinician and someone who has experienced depression, I found the book to be relatable. Suzanne's exploration of her own experiences, as well as famous women writers, highlights the complexity that comes with how our human minds create meaning. I found her recollection of her childhood memories of her mother to be especially interesting. I enjoyed reading Suzanne's recollection of her mother's long battle with breast cancer and how her mother's death played into her own hospitalization.

I think this book will resonate most with those who are well read. There are many women authors that are talked about and explored - some I recognized, and some I did not. I appreciated the history this book brings forth as it relates to women, mental health, and ultimately self-discovery and perseverance. There is also a critic of the mental health system hidden in here. The pushing of pills and the limited support that is provided to our most vulnerable. Any book that shines a light onto this, especially with first-hand knowledge, is worth reading.

Thank you to Knopf, Pantheon, Vintage, and Anchor, Vintage, and NetGalley for the ARC of this beautiful memoir.

“This is what bothers me, the way people (and NAMI, The National Alliance on Mental Illness, doesn’t help) embrace diagnostic identities—for themselves or for their family members. However useful it may be, it is often another way to get stuck in a limiting story, someone else’s story.”

Part memoir, part literary critique on mental illness and historical, iconic female writers.

Scanlon uses this innovative and fascinating memoir to write about women and their “madness”. Women such Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Shulamith Firestone, and more. Of course, the author also includes herself and her own madness alongside, often times using famous literary works that she loved by these “mad women” to help her chronicle her life.

“I am writing about that space the writer occupies, that balance between sanity and insanity.”

Scanlon writes about her mother’s death at a young age, how it molded her, her half-hearted suicide attempt, and how she was then institutionalized. She reflects on her own life and poses questions about her mental illness and how women in history have been treated and viewed because of their madness. Throughout this book, we witness Scanlon grappling with what mental illness is and what a diagnosis means for an individual, which simultaneously challenges readers to question their own ideas and beliefs surrounding mental illness.

“What if, instead of being diagnosed—being called mentally ill—what if I had been able to receive care for its own sake. To be in distress, to ask for care, to receive it. What if there were space in this world for care.”

In ways, the writing could be perceived as messy because she quickly jumps from one thought to the next and it is far from chronological but somehow, it really worked for me. I couldn’t stop reading it and I was hanging on to every last one of Scanlon’s words. The more I read, the better it got and the more I craved. It is blindingly clear that Scanlon is a great writer and I am happy to have discovered her and her work through this book. I guess you could say that I am <i>crazy</i> for this book.

“…and what is madness if not the horror of being misunderstood, of being unable to make a self comprehensible to another?”