The Third Deadly Sin

I read this many years ago. Seeing it at the cottage when I had nothing to read (prior to the trip to the Simon's Town Library sale, obviously) I decided to reread it and, since I enjoyed the series, to abscond with it. Since I recognised it as being one of Dad's unwanted books that were variously placed at the cottage or used book stores (or my shelves), I felt that would be perfectly acceptable. Besides I don't think anyone else reads the books down there.

Anyway, this book features Edward X Delaney, who used to be a police chief and has a thing about sandwiches. The book made me hungry, with all its talk of food. Delaney is approached by an old friend who needs his help solving a series of apparently unrelated murders committed by one person. That would be Zoe Kohler, having adventures, which as far as I can tell involves dressing up like a hooker and murdering the men that pick her up. The police's attempts to find her are fascinating and really do show the value of painstaking, methodical work as opposed to the intuitive behaviour of Poirot (for example) - but that's at least partly the difference between having suspects and not having suspects.

Sanders writes well, though I don't enjoy all his work. This is one that I can recommend without reserve. It is both a police procedural, following the investigation through Delaney, who has the advantage of being able to step outside the strict lines of protocol, being retired. At the same time the book traces the journey of the killer and how the investigation impacts on her life and her kills.

Yoga for Real Life

I do like my yoga books. I bought this after I started doing Kundalini Yoga. Most of the yoga practiced here focuses on the asanas, the postures. Kundalini is different in that the focus there is on moving with the breath. The major focuses of Kundalini are breath and mantra. Doing Kundalini is almost like a moving meditation. And, regardless of how easy it sounds, it really isn't. Because in Kundalini they like to repeat a move (in time with the breath) for long periods of time. In this book, the recommendation is to start with about 5 minutes for each practice and build your way up to half an hour.

The thing I really like about this book is that it talks about integrating yoga into your life. So that it's not just about the time you spend on your mat. If you're interested in yoga, this is an interesting read.

Yoga for Pain Relief

This is a fantastic book. If you suffer from chronic pain and enjoy yoga you should read it. Probably, you should read it even if you don't enjoy yoga. I don't really have much else to say...

I will say, though, that it's harder than it seems to put the information into practice. I'm pretty good about doing my yoga, but when I'm sore I tend to skip classes and I don't really want to do yoga. I'd certainly be more inclined to do yoga at home than in a class at those times. The hard part is getting the brain to move past pain and into a place where you can do something about it. I really enjoy seeing the various variations on poses that can make it easier for someone that's hurting. The variety of props and the way they're used is a departure from normal yoga books.

In short: if you're suffering, read it.

The Passion of Therese of Lisieux

This is the story of the final part of Therese of Lisieux's life. I don't pretend to understand the Christian term 'passion', which seems to mean 'suffering leading up to death'. That's certainly what this book is about. I have an autobiography of Saint Therese on my list of books to read, but this deals purely with the onset of symptoms of the tuberculosis that led to her death.

This is an interesting read, particularly because I had no idea who Saint Therese was or why she was important (or even that she was actually a canonised saint). I was also rather ignorant as to the progression and final stages of pulmonary tuberculosis, that it can spread to the intestines (which apparently causes gangrene and is most unpleasant) or even that there were multiple varieties of tuberculosis (I shall have to google phthisical tuberculosis - apparently phthisis is a medical term for 'wasting away' and so it has the same meaning as 'consumption' and other terms no longer used for tuberculosis, one definition has it as meaning 'pulmonary tuberculosis'!).

I personally found Saint Therese rather irritating in her desire to die, to be a martyr. Isn't she supposed to wish to live so as to work for her god? Apparently, that only applies if you consider the Christian heaven to be a place of rest. Saint Therese considered that she would be able to do her work far better in heaven and so was anxious to be there. I'm not sure how I feel about her, but I consider her 'little way' to be something of great interest. As far as I can tell, it entails being completely dependent on and trusting in god, such that you give yourself up into god. As you might imagine I see quite a few parallels to what she says with what Bernadette Roberts said in her book. It's likely I'm seeing things that aren't there, but there are certain phrases that Saint Therese uses in describing her experiences that struck me all the more forcefully for the previous reading.

As someone interested in what makes people themselves, this is an interesting book. I don't know that I'd recommend it to anyone that wasn't interested in Saints, Religion or the Way Religion Effects People.

Sybil

I first read this book in high school. I've had vague memories of it and a desire to reread it ever since. I am aware that there are arguments against its being factual. I'm also aware that there are arguments against the study that found it to be largely fictional. As far as I'm concerned, the only way to solve the problem is for the files to be unsealed and for the case to be studied by multiple experts. I know that there are many experts who do not consider dissociative identity disorder (DID - formerly multiple personality disorder, MPD) to be real. I understand that the majority of cases are found in the US. Either way, this book was written as a true account and that's how I'm going to treat it (mostly).

Sybil is the story of a woman with DID. She has sixteen separate personalities. Quite frankly I don't consider all sixteen to be either complete personalities or completely separate, but that may be simply due to the constraints of the book. Perhaps if I had met them myself, I would have found them to be separate personalities. The reason for Sybil's personalities appears to be the abuse she suffered at the hands of a diagnosed but untreated schizophrenic mother. At one point in the book the abuse suffered by Sybil, and other children, at the hands of the mother is recounted. The abuse, however, is not dwelt on, which I feel is a good thing. It's important to understand the causes, but there's no need to portray it graphically. There are, however, places where I feel that either the causes were not explained well enough, or the cause is simply unbelievable. Two personalities appear simply because a doctor walked away from a two- or three-year old and sent her back to her abusive home? There's either something I don't understand, or there's something missing from this explanation.

The focus of the book is Sybil's psychoanalysis with Dr Wilbur. I have to say that, on many levels, I object to Dr Wilbur. She does not maintain any objective distance from her patient, in fact she befriends a number of the personalities. Possibly this was necessary as the case was exceedingly complex and groundbreaking. I do feel though, that her professional integrity is damaged by this. There is some suggestion that Dr Wilbur manipulated Sybil into believing she had DID when she didn't and I can only feel that it's strengthened by Dr Wilbur's inability to maintain professional distance. Also, she's a Freudian psychoanalyst and I deeply distrust Freudian anything.

At the end of the book, Sybil is reintegrated. She's a whole, single person, though the personalities do in some measure still exist within the confines of her mind. I feel that this whole process is treated far too superficially. Either that, or the entire was superficial because the disorder didn't exist to begin with. I can't decide. Either way, I felt the end of the book was lacking because of this and there is a sense that the happy ending is contrived.

This is a deeply moving story, regardless of whether or not it's true. It gives one the ability to imagine the fear that someone suffering from DID must feel when they come back to themselves and find that they've lost time. It's well written and easy to read, despite a proliferation of technical terms. This is a book that I recommend regardless of the veracity of the account.

The Year of Magical Thinking

I read this book a few years ago and found it interesting. In the wake of actually experiencing grief myself I thought it might be worth rereading.

It's a good book, well written. I think, however, that while her experiences may be analogous to mine (the cognitive deficits, the denial, the avoiding of reminders, etc.) the simple fact that she had so much else to deal with, with her daughter's illness, makes the story somewhat inaccessible.

It's a fascinating insight into the way her mind dealt with the sudden loss of her husband. Some of her experiences are similar to mine and, no doubt, every other grieving person on the planet. But the simple fact that her situation is not mine - I do not have an ill daughter, I can not rely on a life's worth of work to buoy me up while I grieve, I need to work - means that what she went through is not particularly comforting to me.

This is a good book and you should probably read it. Just don't read it while you're grieving, because it's not the comfort they suggest it is.

Coming Out Asperger: Diagnosis, Disclosure and Self-Confidence

This is one of those academic style books, that has a variety of papers/articles, though it doesn't seem to be aimed at an academic audience. Being fairly academic myself, I appreciate the format because it enables me to get a variety of opinions and perspectives on this issue.

Of course, the majority of viewpoints seem to be starting from the worst-possible outcome as a result of disclosure and there doesn't seem to be terribly much attention paid to the middle-ground. I think that the ones who say that it's best to deal with disclosure on a one-on-one basis are probably right. The difference between 'hard' and 'soft' disclosure doesn't really make much sense to me, but I do agree that different degrees of disclosure are appropriate in differing settings and cases.

On the whole, this is a useful book, though it does tend to focus more on disclosure in situations where it becomes a necessity rather than a choice.

The Memory Game

Another picked up in Tokai. This is a beautifully written book about a girl who went missing, twenty-five years ago. She's just been found, buried not far from the front door for all those years. Her family wants to put it behind them. Her best friend can't leave it alone. What follows is an intriguing trawl through dodgy psychotherapy (and some not-so-dodgy), fallible memories, the romanticising of the past and family secrets. What can't Jane bear to remember? Is that even what really happened? Who can she trust?

I enjoyed this book. It's well-written and it's a good story. The problem I'm having with these Nicci French books so far is that while they're interesting mysteries I'm not becoming attached to any of the characters. I'm not invested in the solving of the mystery. Not being able to finish one of these books would not cause me much consternation because there's nothing in the book to hook me in and keep me reading. It's still a good book, that I would happily recommend, but it's not something special.

Healing Yoga

I have decided that instead of taking my sore neck and back to yoga this evening, I shall take them to a warm bath instead. This does not, however, mean that I don't think yoga would be helpful. It just means that I have arthritis and rather overdid yesterday's yoga and so need to rest. I might do a bit of stretching before I go to bed to help the process though, and any of that stretching will come out of this book. I do yoga because my rheumatologist told me that I needed to do light, gentle exercise, particularly stretching. This book is particularly helpful when doing yoga at home. It gives daily routines that one can do, which last from five to twenty minutes, depending on how much time you have available. It also lists each 'common ailment' and gives the stretches that are best for people suffering from that. So, having a sore back today I would do some curl ups, setu bandha (bridge) and vatayanasana (knee hug). It gives clear instructions with photos as well as providing alternatives, easier ways and more advanced ways of doing the posture. It also tells you why the stretch is good for that particular ailment, which I particularly appreciate. And this is not your usual non-scientific nonsense, this talks about strengthening muscles, stretching muscles, your joints, your organs and the circulation of blood around your body. There is some woo, but it's in small doses and, given the (as far as I know) demonstrated benefits of meditation and breathing practices on things like anxiety, depression and stress-related stuff, I'm willing to forgive.

In short, my favourite yoga book.

Tigger on the Couch

Yet another thing I picked up at an Exclusive Books sale. This is a fun analysis of fairy tale and other characters, attempting to diagnose whatever mental maladies they may have. In addition to that, I found it useful in explaining a variety of personality disorders (some of which I'd never even heard of!) in a fun and accessible way. I wouldn't recommend reading it through in one sitting as I did though. It can get a bit repetitive, there are a surprising number of characters suffering from the same problems. I suppose that shouldn't be surprising when analysing fairy tale characters, but it does make the book a little flat in places.

The Healing Power of Jane Austen

Being an Austenite and a Pemberlian, I found this article particularly interesting. The idea of fiction as medicine is not one I'm unfamiliar with, but I've never seen it so clearly and bluntly expressed as it is here. I too delve into particular favourite books based on my mood. If I feel the need to cry, the chapter where Beth dies in Good Wives (the second volume of Little Women and not given the separate title in the US) is a guarantee and the one I almost always turn to. On the other hand, I'm very good at making myself cry. It's really helpful in LARPs, even if it does give me a headache. Austen, Alcott, Blyton, Tolkien - these are all authors I turn to when I feel that there's something not quite right, something missing. After reading Austen or Alcott I almost always feel uplifted and just better about myself. I could say the same about LotR, but I don't usually read it for that purpose as it takes too long and has a more variable effect on me. It worries me greatly that a large proportion of people are taking tv as medication these days, without it having quite the same effect. Perhaps that's just my opinion, but people who aren't readers miss out on so many role models and examples - not just of how to behave and pull yourself through adversity, but how not to behave. And while you can argue that many of the moral messages are overly religious and outdated, they have the same impact. The moralising, preachy tone of Little Women doesn't bother me in the slightest. I delight in it. It's part of the reason I read it. For them, the story of Jesus is the blueprint of how to live a good life. For me, reading Little Women shows the advantages of doing what needs to be done, what is necessary, before you do what you want and have fun. I know many other people will have different choices for their "medicating literature" and I'm always interested in the choices that people make in terms of what they read in this way.

Addition

This is a book for the obsessive-compulsive in all of us. There's no obsessive-compulsive in you? Weird. I'm somewhat obsessive, not very compulsive. Or, rather, I'm not clinically compulsive. Not the kind of compulsive that one thinks about when one hears the word 'compulsive'. I don't feel compelled to do things by some sort of bizarre or grandiose fear that the world is going to end of everyone I know is going to die (well, I do occasionally, but that's usually a compulsion to stay in bed). I'm compelled to fidget, constantly, though some people call that hyperactivity. I have some pretty bizarre mental processes that are required for me to do certain things. I like things to be symmetrical (or at least sensibly asymmetrical), in alphabetical order, in the correct colour order, in the order of size. But I don't have rituals. I'm not a hand-washer. And I don't count the way Grace Lisa Vandenburg does.

Sometimes, I'll count things, absent-mindedly (and sometimes very mindfully, like breaths in yoga), but I've never met anyone who counts things the way Grace Lisa Vandenburg does. She taught maths for a while, only she lost her job because she had a breakdown because things weren't just so. So now she lives on disability (the book was written by an Australian and is set there) and counts. And then she meets Seamus Joseph O'Reilly. Actually, she steals his banana (he didn't need it and she only had nine! Really, it wasn't so much stealing as saving the world from a fate worse than death) and they meet after that. Grace likes Seamus, Seamus likes Grace. Grace counts, Seamus thinks Grace would be better off not counting. And here we have a lovely story about what exactly constitutes mental health and who has the right to decide how a person is able to be their best. Also, it's a quirky romance that's well-written.

The Dandelion Diary: the Tricky Art of Walking

I can't recall, off the top of my head, where exactly this book is from. Probably one of the Exclusive Books sales, given that it looks like I'm the only one to have read this copy. I do think, though, that I'm going to have to take photographs of certain covers [updated: now done] to get the pictures to be decent sizes here. What's the point of having a picture of the cover if no-one can see it?

Anyway, having arthritis I'm interested in stories about how people cope with and overcome other debilitating diseases. Not that my arthritis is debilitating, but it could be one day. I do, however, like these to be well-written, rather than anecdotal (my cousin's wife's grandfather found ______ really helpful). In this case, the disease in question is Friedreich's ataxia, which, just like ankylosing spondylitis, makes me really glad I only have arthritis.

This is the story of how Marguerite discovered that she had her disease - her older brother suffers as well - and how this affects her life and her family. It's a moving account of denial, acceptance, anger, despair, hope and courage. And so much more. It's a book I would recommend to anyone.

Living Yoga: Creating a Life Practice

I'm sore today. The reason that I'm sore is quite simple. After an absence of far too long, I went back to yoga yesterday. Riva seemed determined to make me suffer. Well, it's my own fault really, if I went more regularly I wouldn't be so sore. Even doing just a little bit at home each day doesn't make that much difference because I'm not yet good enough to tell when I'm out of alignment. And to have Riva there to correct the posture makes such a difference. Of all the yoga teachers I've ever had, Riva is without a doubt my absolute favourite. If only she had more than one class a week. Riva does Iyengar yoga, which I prefer to the other forms that I've been exposed to (specifically Ashtanga) because of its insistence on getting the posture right. And, more importantly, on those slight muscle movements that make all the difference.

When I first saw this book (at Wordsworth) I thought that it was something I'd like to have. I'm always trying to do more yoga because (a) it's good for me and (b) it fits with my mental image of the person I want to be. I didn't buy it because (a) it was too expensive and (b) it was written by a model. I've never had a very good opinion of models. This is probably partly because all clothes are made to fit skinny women with excessively long legs and having to pay for clothes and then pay more to make them smaller has always seemed wrong to me. Anyway, I regretted not buying the book and decided to make it my 'yay I finished my thesis' present to myself. Except that by then it was no longer in stock. A week or two later and I was at the Exclusive Books sale. And it was that part of the sale where the sale prices had been halved (I really can't resist their twice yearly sales. It's like a drug, only I get books. I just keep going back and spending more money. But I don't drink, or smoke or do those other things that normal people my age do [sadly this includes having an actual job at the moment, but I'm working on that], so I feel justified in buying piles of books). Anyway, there I spotted this book, albeit with a slightly different cover. So I bought it.

It's both an account of Christy Turlington's yoga practice and how it was established, as well as showing a number of postures. This is an inspirational book designed to help you incorporate yoga into your daily life. I'm not really sure who this book is aimed at, but I enjoyed it. It has a lovely mix of history, biography and instruction.