Solitude

Well, I don't know what to make of this book. The initial chapter — the one that sold me — exposits about solitude in a very beautiful way. It portrays time alone as one of recharging and pursuing worthwhile, enriching endeavors. Some known and lesser known creative types (and e.g. scientists) are mentioned as having led deeply rich lives thanks to how they used their time alone. Solitude is equated not with anti-social behavior but time needed to further one's pursuits. Many of these people led very agreeable social lives. Furthermore, we're later reminded of Jung's idea of integration as much needed to engage in enriching social contact.

Beyond that first chapter, the book decays into some chaos. I think the author's attempt at narrating all the sides of being alone was a bit misguided, but hey!, I'm not writing books so I'm not here to judge. Personally, I found all the references to Freud to be not only tedious, but completely unnecessary. It's almost as if the author had a personal reason to negatively obsess about Freud, a man that contributed much to other psychologists finding ways to disprove him. So much of Freud is now obsolete that I don't see why we'd spend chapter after chapter analyzing his proposals.

We also find time to talk about prison and a number of things that are only tangential to solitude. Especially since you're probably not reading this book in prison! It's almost as if the majority of the book was a sidebar to the main topic, but I'm afraid the book itself is concerned with too many things. It's not fluff per se — as self-help might indulge in —, but feels both trivial and dismissible.

Sadly, all this meandering does a great disservice to a book that every now and the delivers tremendous insight. I found myself skimming ahead entire sections until something finally got my attention and made me stop to read slowly.

And then it all clicks together. Chapter 10 gives us the pay off for all that meandering. The object-relation psychoanalysts were mentioned extensively to be extensively disproven. But if you already knew Jung was going to come around and ‘save' psychotherapy, I still think the previous chapters felt too long and exhaustive.

Personally, I would also like to add that I found the depiction of both Kant and Wittgenstein as indicators that they would today be placed on the autistic spectrum. Ipso facto, some of the behaviors from other personalities mentioned might be classified as pathological today. That said, I do like that the author, an expert on the field himself, is essentially proposing that some of what we consider ‘damaged' might not be so. After all, if the creative act can self-actualize us and provide respite in making order out of the world, why would we think that only hyper-social people deserve to be considered healthy? I liked that redeeming quality, and the acknowledgment that many works of art we consider grandiose were put together by people struggling internally.

All in all, the right kind of “self-help” and quite informative.