Saturday, September 24, 2011

A Stolen Life

Last week I finished Jaycee Dugard's A Stolen Life, an autobiographical tale of her kidnapping at age 11 and subsequent 18 year captivity. It was a disturbing book, of course, filled with true stories of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse. So much of it reminded me of Room, except in this case, all the stories were true. It left me with a lot of questions about her captors and the justice system, particularly: Why was a man who had previously been convicted of multiple sexual offenses on minors, including a previous kidnapping, who was sentenced to a fifty year sentence, out on parole after 11 years? It also raised a lot of questions about substance abuse and the oversight of doctors' diagnosing and prescribing for mental illness, and not following their patients' closely or with any regularity.

Another aspect of the account that intrigued me was how it was written and published within two years of her finally gaining her freedom. While reading it, the book seemed very jumbled and confused, which I assume is because Ms. Dugard's memories and emotions associated with all of the events that happened to her are similarly jumbled and confused. I cannot imagine she has been able to process all 18 years of abuse, and that came across in the story. The end of the book is also reserved to her therapy process, in which, to me, she sounds falsely happy and bright. It seemed to me that no matter how fortunate she is to be rebuilding her life with her family, the process must be harder and more intense than she describes. It made me feel like the book was given a happy ending for the sake of its readers, when I really cannot imagine the long term emotional affects of her captivity have all been solved. I don't think that the level trauma she experienced can be cured, which is how it came across in the book. Certainly it can be mitigated, processed, and coped with, but the 180 she pulls from being traumatized and developmentally stunted upon release from captivity to being completely functional in just 2 years seems as though she is glossing over the long term affects of her trauma. Perhaps she is using this positive outlook as a coping mechanism. If she tells herself she is happy and emotionally healthy, she IS happy and emotionally healthy. Or maybe her therapist is truly performing miracles with her. Or maybe Ms. Dugard is a particularly resilient individual. It's certainly not for me to judge her experience. However, I wish that I had gotten more details about the recovery process in the book so that I could better understand how her healing process went. From my perspective, it doesn't sound as though she is being completely honest with the readers, and worse, it doesn't sound as though she is being completely honest with herself. I hope that in her recovery process she will be able to better process the negative emotions that arise, and not feel the need to always paint a bright and happy picture.

Obviously this book brings up a lot of questions and emotions in the reader. While I was unsatisfied with the ending and the rushed and confused quality of the book, I definitely would recommend it to any of the Madwomen - as long as they are up for a dark and disturbing read.

1 comment:

  1. Honestly, I think Room may have been enough for me. Interestingly, though, the part that bothers you (seeming to recover too fast) is what bothered me so much about Room too. Which makes me wonder, is that part of Room more realistic than I initially thought? I think you may be onto something with the whole "if you act like you're recovered, then you are recovered." I am not at all trained in mental health, so who am I to say, but it seems like a potential coping mechanism to me.
    RDeW

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