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About the author and blogger ...

Anne Goodwin’s drive to understand what makes people tick led to a career in clinical psychology. That same curiosity now powers her fiction.
A prize-winning short-story writer, she has published three novels and a short story collection with small independent press, Inspired Quill. Her debut novel, Sugar and Snails, was shortlisted for the 2016 Polari First Book Prize.
Away from her desk, Anne guides book-loving walkers through the Derbyshire landscape that inspired Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre.
Subscribers to her newsletter can download a free e-book of award-winning short stories.

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Fictional psychologists and psychotherapists: 14. The First Bad Man by Miranda July

22/2/2015

8 Comments

 
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When I began this series of fictional therapists, I never imagined I’d encounter one who served, three days a year, as receptionist for a “chromotherapist” in the same office. When I wrote the guidelines for creating a credible fictional therapist, it didn’t occur to me to caution against installing a therapist in a building with such inadequate toilet facilities that clients, if caught short, would be obliged to relieve themselves into a used takeaway carton in a screened-off area of the office. But, despite her degrees in clinical psychology and, surprisingly, social work, I doubt that anyone would look to Miranda July’s creation for an insight into the machinations of psychotherapy and, while I found Ruth-Anne mildly amusing, she wasn’t as funny as the Lacanian analyst in The House of Sleep, so let’s dispense with her and move on to the more interesting aspects of this quirky debut novel.

Cheryl Glickman is a single woman in her early 40s, stuck in a rut as peculiar as you’re ever likely to find, yet one that resonates with more conventional lives. Living alone, she’s devised an ingenious, if obsessional, system for minimising housework and the despair that can ensue when the mess gets out of hand (p21):


How much time do you spend moving objects to and fro? Before you move something far from where it lives, remember you’re eventually going to have to carry it back to its place – is it really worth it? Can’t you read the book standing right next to the shelf with your finger holding the spot you’ll put it back into? Or better yet: don’t read it. And if you are carrying an object, make sure to pick up something that might need to go in the same direction. This is called carpooling. Putting new soap in the bathroom? Maybe wait until the towels in the dryer are done and carry the towels and soap together.

Cheryl has a weird non-job in a weird non-profit organisation that began as a women’s self-defence studio and has morphed into peddling martial-arts-inspired fitness DVDs. The company has absorbed some of the weirder aspects of Japanese office culture (p67):

If a task requires a group effort – for example, moving a heavy table – it should be begun by one person, and then after a respectful pause a second person can join in, with a bowed head, saying, “Jim can move the table alone, he is the best at moving the table, I am joining him even though I’m not much help, because I’m not good at moving the table.” Then, after a moment, the third person can join in, first bowing his head and stating, “Jim and Cheryl can move the table alone,” etc. And so on, until there are enough people assembled for the task.

Cheryl inhabits a fantasy whereby any infant might prove to be the reincarnation of a baby boy she met when she was nine, and she can have a romance spanning centuries with Philip, a board member twenty years her senior, who barely acknowledges she’s there. Into this world of eccentric order and unfulfilled longing comes Clee, her bosses’ buxom twenty-year-old daughter. Foisted on her as a housemate, Clee takes over her couch and TV remote control, her stacks of dirty dishes in the sink and the foul smell of her feet contaminating Cheryl’s carefully preserved space. Clee is not only lazy and self-centred, she’s a bully who nevertheless proves to be the catalyst to Cheryl renouncing her neuroses and finding a satisfying life in the real world.

Miranda July is an award-winning filmmaker, artist and writer of short stories and non-fiction. You’ve probably already heard of her, but I hadn’t, so had no idea where The First Bad Man would take me. My reactions to the novel went through three phases: initial delight in the laugh-out-loud humour from an eccentric female narrator of the type more commonly depicted as male; a slight cooling off around the middle section with its emphasis on the crazy therapist, raging sexual fantasies and violent role-play games; to being surprisingly moved as things began to work out for Cheryl, and Clee too. Overall, I’m impressed with a writer who can combine slapstick humour with a deep compassion for the human condition, and grateful to Canongate for my review copy and to Naomi Frisby for bringing the novel to my attention.

This joyful novel seems the perfect companion for a 99-word story on the theme of feeling good. Still glowing from Friday’s compassion blogathon, I’ve come up with a prose poem on the journey towards becoming a person (to borrow a phrase from the title of a book by Carl Rogers, founder of the person-centred approach to therapy). It could apply to Cheryl in The First Bad Man, it could apply to someone finding a more patient and sane therapist than Ruth-Anne, it could apply to my character Diana towards the end of Sugar and Snails, but, hopefully, it can be whatever the reader chooses:

They laughed when I told of my desire; it was no surprise when you laughed too.

You claimed you were different, you claimed that you cared.

You prodded and cajoled me to dig deeper still. You absorbed all my words and left me only tears.

You cut me open; put my ugly wanting on display. Like an old-time fairground freak show, the butt of scorn.

You stared at it lovingly, never once averting your gaze. You named it beautiful, exciting, brave.

You helped me to touch it. I laughed, you laughed, we laughed in perfect harmony, brimming with joy.


And, although it’s taken me in a different direction to that of Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, do enjoy the song that got this little effort started.


Thanks for reading. I'd love to know what you think. If you've enjoyed this post, you might like to sign up via the sidebar for regular email updates and/or my quarterly Newsletter.
8 Comments
Norah Colvin link
23/2/2015 03:54:11 am

I was interested to hear about the three stages of your reading of this book, Anne. I admire your persistence in pushing through the middle. Sometimes it can be difficult to do so when the TBR pile is beckoning with more.
I recognised a little of myself in the attitude to housework - not sure if I should admit that or not! Having a two-story house I often put things on the steps to wait until I am ready to take other things up as well. Actually the housework doesn't figure as high on my list of priorities as it should. I'd probably rather be doing almost anything else, but it's always nice when it's done!
I love your prose poem flash, and the video you used to accompany it. The feelings are quite intense and show a great deal of self-reflection, or intrapersonal intelligence. The beauty of the revelation is quite moving.
I can't imagine relieving myself into a takeaway container in a screened-off section of an office. I think I'd be holding on, and finding myself a new therapist! Thanks for the warning!

Reply
Annecdotist
23/2/2015 07:46:27 am

I think I kept going with the novel because the first third was so startlingly good, and funny. Oh yes, and I definitely picked that quote on housework because I identify with it too. A lot of mess makes me anxious (you probably wouldn't think that if you saw the room I'm in right now) but I've far better things to do than keep house.
Thanks for your kind feedback on the flash; it felt a bit different to me with less story, so glad it worked for you.
And yes, don't sign up with a therapist who doesn't have easy access to a proper toilet!

Reply
Charli Mills link
23/2/2015 02:59:00 pm

Glad to be in the company of other housekeeping carpoolers, Norah and Anne! In fact, I have my little carpool pile growing in its designated spot for transporting downstairs. As to housework -- I agree with Norah, I'd rather do anything else, but it feels sooo good when clean! Despite dust, though, I keep my space neat and keep up on dishes. I have a friend who often posts on Facebook that she "steam cleaned" and I can't even relate to that level of deep cleaning! :-)

The awkward lack of toilet reminds me of a condition I encountered in Minnesota. First, let me explain that out west sometimes you have to use an outhouse or a bush so I'm not hung up on odd places to find relief. In Minnesota I discovered that women have "pee anxiety" and can not let go if there are other women in the bathroom (like multiple stalls). Definitely, that therapist was not treating women from Minnesota!

Interest book and I like how you break it down int parts and stuck with it based on your early impression. I enjoyed your review!

Reply
Annecdotist
26/2/2015 08:37:03 am

Steam cleaning? I thought that was what they did in hospitals after a particularly virulent outbreak of infection.
From our toilet post discussions I know you’re not squeamish about peeing where you need to, and I didn’t used to be, but I’m wondering,, as I’m less and less in places where there’s a row of cubicles, whether I might be about to join the ladies of Minnesota in their squeamishness.
Thanks for reading and commenting, Charli.

Reply
geoff link
24/2/2015 10:11:48 am

While I think about it, Anne, do you have to go through the rigmarole on wordpress to comment that we do when we comment on Weebly? Not as bad as 'are you human' on the google based webs.
Loved the review and the debate on housework. Mum's view was 'never put off until tomorrow what you can do today - unless it is housework'. A philosophy endorsed in this house. Anyway housework is overrated - my mother in law carries a tin of furniture polish with her whenever she stays but because she has very poor eyesight we tend to find what look like bird droppings after she's traversed the house. And the book does sound like my read.
Best though was your poem - 'put my ugly wanting on display' what a great line. You should do more, or at least let us see it!

Reply
Annecdotist
26/2/2015 08:45:26 am

Sorry the Weebly comment procedure is a bit more of a faff than WordPress. Norah has also flagged this up. I think it if your computer’s set to allow cookies it can remember the options, but it’s still a bit more effort and I do appreciate people like you climbing over the obstacles to leave your thoughts.
I’d be interested in your thoughts on this novel if you were to read it. It’s right over the top, but in a good way.
I’m glad you thought the flash worked, a bit of a departure for me. As for my ugly, well, I think it creeps out now and again in these posts and in my fiction, but it’s quite a shy creature still has to do it in in stages!

Reply
irene waters link
27/2/2015 12:04:51 am

Sounds an interesting book but not one that I will take on right now but I love your flash Anne. I loved the tenderness and the care taken in bringing her to a point where she could laugh with joy.

Reply
Annecdotist
27/2/2015 05:35:02 am

Thanks so much, Irene, glad you liked it.

Reply



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