Book Review: Touched by Fire
Linking madness and the arts
Amelia Chen
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After reading Touched by Fire by Dr. Kay Redfield Jamison, I feel as though I know manic-depressive illness backwards and forwards, inside and out. As Dr. Jamison methodically planned with the skill of a woman who has her doctorate, her book covers the disorder to completeness and establishes a link between it and artistic temperament. She does this by breaking down the illness into manageable, digestible parts and finds links to all those parts in writings by famous artists. For example, she cites passages from the works of the Romantic poets. In the past, largely because of ignorance, I would find their writings to be unapproachable and intimidating, but Jamison’s use of them has made me a fan.
I am enraptured by the eloquence of Lord Byron in describing the abyss of depression or the tumultuousness of mania. And, as a mental health consumer, I find identity and a sense of belonging in these works as well. I did not realize my psychological pain was a disease until I read this book. This book is two-fold in its impression on me: it describes manic-depressive illness in scientific and poetic language, and it introduces me to a number of artists that describe the parts of me that I could never really articulate.
If there was anyone equipped to write about the illness, it is Dr. Kay Redfield Jamison; she herself is a mental health consumer diagnosed with bipolar disorder and is a professor of psychiatry at John Hopkins University. It is her life’s work, passion, and illness to know bipolar disorder intimately. Years ago when I was first diagnosed, my sister, a psychiatrist, recommended that I read her autobiography An Unquiet Mind in order to familiarize myself with mental illness. In that book, her writing style is more that of a storyteller as opposed to a scientist trying to prove a point, which is her style for Touched by Fire and it works: I walk away with the belief that there is a link between artistic temperament, mental illness, and yet a third assertion of a genetic disposition towards the disease.
Jamison is indeed thorough by summarizing every study written on the subject starting from the 1940s using biographical knowledge of artists from the 19th and 20th centuries. She goes on to reinforce the point with inventive graphs and diagrams about which artists suffered from bipolar disorder, at what time in their lives, and how productive were they with their art despite the challenges. Productivity coincides with manic states, and in some artists, it even corresponds with the changing seasons.
The most interesting parts of this book are the case studies. She examines the lives of Robert Schumann, Vincent Van Gogh, Alfred Tennyson, Virginia Woolf, and Ernest Hemingway to name a few. There is a far more exhaustive list of artists suffering from mental illness in the appendices. For a comprehensive portrait, she devotes one full chapter to the life and family history of Lord Byron. Lord Byron was a prolific writer and in his manic states, a hedonist to the extreme. He was the epitome of a manic-depressive, but what was amazing about him was his ability to take control and articulate his moods in his poetry. He writes that he is a prisoner to his bouts of boredom, despair and madness and that his enthusiasm for life is brought down by his inevitable lows. In addition to both extremes, he beautifully describes what it feels like to be in a mixed-state.
The last chapter in this book is dedicated to medical science and, in particular, lithium. Lithium is the drug that is most effective and most prescribed to those suffering from manic-depression. Patients often complain of its numbing effect on their creativity, but one study cited a third of the patients on the drug were satisfied with the mood stabilization they achieved while taking it.
To end, I want to cite a poem by Lord Byron which the composer Robert Schumann held dear to his heart:
Look on me! There is an order
Of mortals on the earth, who do become
Old in their youth, and die ere middle age,
Without the violence of warlike death;
Some perishing of pleasure—some of study—
Some worn with toil—some of mere weariness—
Some of disease—and some of insanity—
And some of withered, or of broken hearts.
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