“In my peer education courses I was taught to say that I am a person with schizoaffective disorder. “Person-first language” suggests that there is a person in there somewhere without the delusion and the rambling and the catatonia.

But what if there isn’t? What happens if I see my disordered mind as a fundamental part of who I am?”

Esmé Weijun Wang

Our identity, and our ability to make sense of our internal lives, is something that shifts as we age. New experiences, new people, and new chances for self-reflection alter our idea of who we are, but we don’t always get a choice in what we’re given. Hardship forces us to rearrange our concept of self, whether in spite of or in collaboration with it. This realignment of self, finding meaning, and existing in a world no longer built to help you is the crux of Esmé Weijun Wang’s essay compilation, The Collected Schizophrenias. 

The Collected Schizophrenias is kaleidoscopic, with essays ranging from research-heavy dives into her diagnoses to personal narrative essays dealing with everyday experiences, like watching a movie or attending college. Throughout, the author’s dry wit and unique perspective shift the reader’s perception of what schizoaffective disorders look like. Essays range from pointed and clear to a mishmash of different views, leaving the questions posed and the multiple sources to speak for themselves. It creates a book with a myriad of thought-provoking questions about society, the systems, and the self. 

Before I continue, I’d like to mention that I’ve written this blog post three times. Three drafts, four rounds of edits, and a lookover from my partner. In each draft I’ve struggled with how to word what I loved about the book because each essay is so different, such a unique and complete thought, that talking about them as a whole leaves me at a bit of a loss. Even as I write this, I look at my outline dubiously, wondering if there isn’t a better way that I’m not seeing. I’ll have to settle with doing my best and hoping my admiration peeks through.

The book opens with essays that prime the reader in schizophrenia and the mental health system. For the rest of the essays to hit, the reader must be familiar with the idea of how schizophrenia, and other psychotic disorders, are diagnosed and treated. The essays trend research-heavy, quoting sources such as the DSM and defining terms that the lay person may be unfamiliar with. Once that foundation is laid, Wang ventures immediately into more difficult topics: caregiving, education, media, involuntary committal, healthcare systems, and religion. Every essay stems from personal experiences with her various diagnoses while still engaging in outside sources to inform on the topic. 

These outside sources range widely and, while many are specific to the realm of mental health, some venture into art, philosophy, or religion. These more interdisciplinary essays, in my opinion, succeeded the most. Drawing lines between seemingly disparate subjects forced me to conceptualize ideas in a new way, giving me a new lens of perspective to view the topics within. One example that stands out was “L’Appel du Vide”, in which Wang talks about photography, artistry, and suicidal ideation. She blends the story of Francesca Woodman, a photographer who completed suicide at a young age, with photography theory and Wang’s own experiences with her film camera. Personal stories about how she used to keep a list of pros and cons of killing herself interweave with the idea that photography captures reality and mortality. Combined with the nonlinear style of the essay, it allows the reader to draw the connections between each segment and, in the end, look at all the pieces as a whole to make a profound statement about artistry and chronic illness.

When Wang veers away from research, the voice of her writing changes. Not much- she still maintains a relatively clinical, objective, slightly-distancing tone- but enough that when her emotions about an experience take center stage, it feels less like an explanation and more confessional. Her experience with Cotard’s Syndrome, or the essay “Beyond the Hedge” both tread these emotional lines that feel very intimate in ways some of the other, more researched essays, don’t. While there are many great essays that experience this inward focus on feeling, the one that affected me the most was “The Choice of Children”. Minus one general observation about an online forum for children of bipolar mothers, the entire piece focuses on Wang’s emotions, questions, and fears of motherhood. The sections about Camp Wish, a summer camp for children with bipolar disorder, hit hard and were a great overall linking thread throughout the essay. Interspersed, the author’s conversations with her partner, the thoughts about her own mother’s choices, and her conflicting emotions after a surgery made her relatable. Anyone who can bear children has had similar thoughts: “Would I be a good mother?” “Would I pass along genes that could harm my child?” “Can I handle the responsibilities of being a mom?” It’s an age-old question with heightened stakes due to the author’s chronic illnesses. It’s complicated, it’s messy, and there’s no answer. That’s why I loved it. 

The only thing that took me out of this book, briefly, were some repetitions I felt could be easily rectified in editing. Each essay can stand on its own. Anyone could pick up the book, read one random chapter, and be able to understand it. For someone reading the book as a book, though, I found that some essays carried repetitions from other essays a few chapters before it. For instance, the author’s stay on the Louisiana ward over Christmas has an entire essay dedicated to it. Yet, in at least two other essays, it’s brought up and explained again for context within the new essay. This happens a few times with seminars she’s attended, projects she’s taken part in, or even her everyday makeup routine. It’s a small thing, but sometimes I would read a brief explanation of something I’d already read an entire essay about and wonder if it was an editing oversight or intentional. Altogether a very minor quibble on my end. Still, someone with a red pen could fix it with a few nixed sentences and a couple of wording changes for those of us reading more than one essay in a sitting. 

The overall quality of the book overshadows my silly grumbling. I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend this book, even to someone with no interest or inclination in nonfiction. It’s a wonderful collection with many spectacular essays. Throughout Wang’s questioning and searching for answers and meaning, I found my perspective on mental health and chronic illness altered for good. The Collected Schizophrenias is a quiet, contemplative, and illuminating addition to any To-Be-Read list. 

If you’ve read the book, or at least the essay, “High Functioning”, and are subscribed to the newsletter (link below!), you may wonder if that authorial reference influenced my decision about August’s Book of the Month. Nope! I’ve had all the Books of the Month planned since December. Wang’s choice to use that author to illustrate her “fashion-as-a-weapon” point was pure serendipity. If you know what I’m talking about, you can look forward to it! If not, stay tuned for next week, where all will be revealed. Until then, happy reading!