There is so much good in this book, Powers' warts and all sharing of his life, his struggles with two schizophrenic sons, including the suicide of one of those boys just days before his 21st birthday, is beautiful, and brave, and does so much to humanize mental illness. In this historical moment when we demonize the mentally ill because of the acts of a few we need to raise understanding of what mental illness is and isn't. I could not be more grateful to Powers for shedding light on the reality of this plague that has affected, sometimes even taken, people I love. Powers also presents a compelling history of mental illness, some of which was new to me and was fascinating.

For me this book was unsuccessful in 2 areas. The first of those areas was totally understandable. Powers spent SO much time talking about his sons' music. Duplicative stories of gigs that did nothing to advance the reader's understanding or the narrative. I know Powers wanted to show that his son was important and more than his illness. That said, I don't think he needed to try so hard and I don't think many readers would have a real interest in where his 17 year old played what. Certainly the truth of his status as a musical prodigy could be told with just a few of those tales, and the fact of his admission to the esteemed programs at Interlochen and Berklee. These many (many!) digressions were simply boring and frequently led me to put down the book. Ditto on the letters home from both sons. A few of them had red flags to be sure, but mostly they were 100% unremarkable letters from well-educated high school and college aged boys to anyone they felt compelled to write. Powers tries hard to stress their extraordinary insight, but I have an 18-year old, and a lot of the observations sound like things he would say or write to me. The most remarkable thing was how little emotion was to be found in the "sane" letters. Maybe Powers left that out? From what was there the relationship seemed very distant without trust or love. These were simply reports on things going on.

My second issue with the book was more serious. Powers makes an argument that it is wrong that parents cannot commit their adult children as a matter of course. Shame on him. The mentally ill adult is an adult who needs to be allowed to make his own decisions. We don't routinely infantilize adults under our laws because it would be morally, ethically and constitutionally wrong to do so. In those instances where it is necessary because a person is not competent, the law allows for conservatorship. Is it difficult to get to conservatorship? Yep. And is should be. Powers tells the story of a person who had a psychotic break the day after his 18th birthday attempting to show that this is a ridiculous line being drawn. But guess what. All lines are somewhat arbitrary. All of us reach our legal majority at the same age though we are at different levels of development. All of us can collect Social Security and Medicare at the same age though many of us are healthy enough to work, and some people need those programs years earlier and cannot access them. A line is drawn based upon averages, means and medians, and traditions. Mentally ill people have the right to live by those same rules unless a threat to themselves or others (at which time there are remedies.) I found this argument offensive and cruel and dangerous, and it made the rest of the book suspect in my eyes. I cannot imagine what Powers' surviving son, Dean, thought of that thesis. I am sad and angry for him. That is not to say Powers didn't love his sons. He clearly adored them. But his desire for the law to make them perpetual children to ease his care-taking is spectacularly arrogant.