This is an older book on dissociative identity disorder (DID), but it’s one that is widely read almost twenty years later.
As much as I wanted to love this book, it fell quite flat. Oxnam suffered from DID for decades. That’s tragic in and of itself. He goes into great detail about his alters, including who they are and where they reside in his head. Chapters of the book are written by various incarnations of himself. When he’s not name dropping and bragging about the responsibilities he has as a successful China scholar, he’s giving us details about therapy sessions—at least those he remembers.
A Fractured Mind isn’t terribly written. As a memoir, though, it comes up short in letting the reader in. The book reads as if an unemotional third party is telling Oxnam’s story. A great memoir pulls the reader in the story with all of its emotions and failures. Oxman never does that. Any emotion he tries to express comes across as forced.
I’ve also suffered from DID for decades, so I understand how difficult it is to revisit the emotional rollercoaster caused by our alters. If Oxnam would have conveyed those rides in ways we felt the steep dives, fast turns, and bumpy tracks, the memoir would have had the bones to keep us enthralled from beginning to end.
Do I recommend that people read the book? It depends on what you want to get out of it. I read for entertainment, and nothing here kept my intention. If you’re looking for a book that depicts how unnerving it is to have DID, then definitely read this book. Just make sure you drink plenty of caffeine along the way.
I give it three squirrels.🐿️🐿️🐿️