It’s rare to find a book about mental illness that doesn’t have an angle or an agenda. Aviv is fascinated by the stories of the people she profiles, and by the backgrounds and differences in their (and her) cases, and comes at them with empathy, understanding and some really great writing.

It took a while to understand the approach, and to stop expecting an ‘aha’ moment. This is more like Michael Pollan than Gabor Maté (though both are good). Aviv wants us to see the people, not the diagnoses, and through these people she tells stories about the history of mental illness both from a western perspective an a non-western one. She doesn’t judge, doesn’t look for common cause or threads, simply observes and reports.

Her own story would have been enough for a memoir twice the length of this, and her journalistic style made for an easy read even when the subject matter is very difficult. It shares some DNA with Hello, I Want to Die Please Fix Me.

Many of my loved ones have struggled greatly with mental illness in recent years, and some stretches have been almost too difficult to bear. I saw a lot of familiar storylines in this book, and had to put it down a few times to clear my head. The world needs more people with the compassion and heart of Aviv. You should read this book.