Andrew G. Marshall's 3 favorite reads in 2023

After a tragedy that killed his wife and several other members of a small community in America, Lucas makes an unlikely bond with a young man who everyone else has ostracised. This relationship will both be the way forward in his healing AND push him over the edge into a complete breakdown. The novel unfolds in letters from Lucas to his Jungian annalist, who is either unwilling or unable to continue their work together.

I found the book a delight from the beginning, and as a therapist myself, I enjoyed the central role of the wounded healer. Sometimes, however, the book came across as very American, especially the relationship with guns and the continual deification of small-town life. The third act contains a shocking and satisfying twist that adds another layer to the book. As a therapist myself, the biggest takeaway–which I am still contemplating–is the link between creativity and healing. How can I help my clients access their own innate skills and silence the inner critic?

Intensely moving discussion about trauma, how it has been normalized in our culture, and how to heal (both ourselves and the wider society). I have read several books on trauma before, but I had never had some of the key concepts explained so clearly before. Mate differentiates between trauma with a capital T and regular trauma with a small t. In his view, they are both a problem, and we should not compare trauma. So what is the difference between using his own story and using his own? To save him from the Holocaust, his mother gave him up as a baby to a stranger.

Fortunately, they were reunited, but Mate's grandparents were murdered at Auschwitz. It goes without saying that this is trauma with a capital T. However, using his mother's diary, he revisits the practice of doctors in Hungary when he was born, who ordered mothers in the hospital to feed their babies at regular intervals, however much they cried. This is trauma with a small t. It is also when children sacrifice part of themselves to fit in with their family–what Mate calls sacrificing authenticity for connection. Unlike a lot of books on trauma, Mate is just as good at describing the solutions to trauma as laying out how we get traumatized.

The death of Robert Bly inspired me to return to his work, particularly this collection of stories and commentary. These fairy tales speak through the ages as strongly today as when they were told around the fire by our ancestors. The images are so strong, reading is almost like dreaming. Bly's notes on the images and some suggested takeaways are interesting, but I wonder if they are limiting. It is much better to think about how they speak to you today.

I decided to read in the order in which the titles of the tales spoke to me, so I ended with The Six Swans. It turned out to be a good plan because it turned out to be the least interesting (and Bly's commentary felt rather dated and too long). I will use the final four–Dark Man, One-Two Man, The Lindworm, and The White Bear King–with my clients to reach down into material that they cannot directly access but need the wisdom of our ancestors.