Michael Greenberg (1) (1952–)

If you're looking for a 240 page book about what it's like when your 15 year-old-daughter has a psychotic break, I can recommend this book. The tone is immediate and honest without being too confessional and the whole thing is, well, short. Worth it for the page count and as a side-dish for the Year of [b:Magical Thinking|7815|The Year of Magical Thinking|Joan Didion|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1165644384s/7815.jpg|1659905]. Another plus for the memoirs-of-not-famous-people genre.

The language in Michael Greenberg’s new memoir, Beg, Borrow, Steal: A Writer’s Life, startles with the beauty of verse and the throb of a violent, tempestuous city. Greenberg’s words, though, form the only true unifying thread for this loosely fitted biography.

The book patches together what appear to have been columns about life in New York City. Each chapter introduces eccentric characters from the city, including quite a few members of the author’s family. We meet Greenberg’s show more father, a middle-class, immigrant scrap-metal tycoon; a fixer with a mail-order law degree; a master chef practicing his art in a soup kitchen; and an ex-patriot Chilean filmmaker.

Greenberg tries to weave his encounters into a common story about his struggles to become and support himself as a writer. But many of the stories and characters fit into the fabric of Greenberg’s life only because he wrote about them, not because they offer any insight into his life or art. In the end, the most compelling stories are the personal ones, as they are more emotionally raw and more relevant to his writing.

A Writer’s Life is an appropriate title for such a personal account, as it signals that this is just one man’s path to the art, and not necessarily a path that should be followed by others. Indeed, Greenberg consistently turns his nose up at any endeavor save writing and regularly lashes out at anyone who would suggest something different. The result is a life spent just above the poverty line, and often alienated from loved ones.

For a writer, the language is the thing. Here, Greenberg is on track. The most consistent and pleasing element of his work is the words he strings together. So, while the book suffers from strained attempts to seam together stories, the language overshadows these shortcomings.

Bottom Line: A sometimes disjointed group of stories told in colorful and lively language.

3 ½ bones show less

Unremittingly, percussively superficial. Page after page, over and over and over, Greenberg doesn't notice, or doesn't care, that he doesn't see anything deeper in his subjects. He is a journalist in the worst sense of that word: he sees little themes, follows them a little way, and that's enough.

There is a chapter about a book he wrote about his daughter's "manic breakdown." It's about his family's reaction to the manuscript. He shows it to one person, who sounds "strained," and says show more "What's the point of getting into it." His reaction is that he's uneasy, but "pleased to be off the hook." The entire chapter -- everything he has to say about the reaction of the people he loves to a book about his own daughter's mental illness -- is 4 pages long.

The book is astonishing. It makes Tyra, Oprah, and the others look profound. Greenberg is like a mayfly, hovering over the surface of the water, dipping down for tiny sips. He likes to quote Philip Roth and other novelists. But what can he possibly think their novels are about? He doesn't seem to be consumed by despair at their ability to see more in life, which means he must not notice that they see things he doesn't. It's a horrible thing, trying to picture what his world must be like. show less

In the opening pages of his sort-of memoir, Michael Greenberg says it's "something of a sacrilege" to speak of mental illness as anything besides the "chemical brain disease that it on one level is." Nonetheless, in Hurry Down Sunshine, Greenberg takes on the subject from a father's perspective and tells the story of his fifteen-year-old daughter's swift mental decline.

Greenberg names the day of his daughter Sally's crack-up: July 5, 1996. He wakes up to discover that Sally isn't home, and show more when he finds her walking around in the streets, the daughter he knows is gone. Instead, a raging young girl who kicks down trashcans and speaks in abstractions seems to have taken her place.

Hurry Down Sunshine is a book that, I think, will draw in readers who have first-hand experience with mental illness, and it will connect with others who are interested in reading about personal and family drama. For the former, this story will read like a testament of survival and perseverance in light of a family tragedy. Like any hopeful father, Greenberg first rationalizes Sally's illness as a teenage spell, but when she lashes out on him-leaving bloody scratch marks on his face, he knows something more serious has taken hold. A therapist advises Greenberg and his wife to take Sally to the emergency room on the grounds of "acute psychosis." They comply, shocked that such a phrase could apply to their daughter.

Greenberg signs a consent form for Sally's treatment, and paramedics strap her to a gurney. Sally doesn't fight them but rather "races on about her epiphanies, the piercing nature of light, the lightness of light, the genius in us all." Just like that, Greenberg watches his daughter be whisked away to a psychiatric hospital, where she undergoes intense treatment.

For those who have never been inside a psych ward, Greenberg does a good job evoking a place that is deeply sad and curiously exciting at the same time. Family members show up at visiting hours, baffled by what has happened to their loved ones. Patients in various stages of treatment wander the halls, such as Fabulosa, who becomes infatuated with Sally's brother and lifts her shirt as a sign of affection. Doctors eventually pronounce Sally "bipolar 1" and, after lengthy treatment, release her from the hospital. Greenberg and his wife continue to grapple with the fact that their daughter is not healed, nor will she ever be the same. At home, Sally follows a strict health regime, involving a long list of medications, dietary restrictions, and regular doctor's visits. She worries that her friends will shun her and that she won't be able to return to school, as her meds have affected her concentration so much that she struggles to read a single sentence.

Alongside Sally's story, Greenberg offers medical and literary perspectives on mental illness, and he introduces a caring cast of characters who rally to Sally's side. He explains the workings of psychotropic drugs, giving an insider's account of their effects after he becomes fed up with Sally's treatment and swallows a "full dose" of her pills. Greenberg also draws upon the story of author James Joyce's dealings with his daughter Lucia, who suffered from mental illness during a time when treatment was much more precarious.

In the end, readers will find themselves rooting for Sally and her health. Hurry Down Sunshine elicits a powerfully emotional response, whether or not its author delves deeply into his own emotions. For this family, we want to see Sally's full recovery, but this book offers no happy ending. In doing so, it is truthful in its treatment of mental illness and doesn't shy away from the sad reality that Sally and those who love her are not alone in their struggles. show less