Posts
Elizabeth Zelvin
At the recent Malice Domestic, I was on a panel on the topic of tackling social issues in mystery fiction. At last fall's Bouchercon, they assigned me to "the booze panel." That one was a challenge, though you could say I asked for it by choosing to write about recovery from alcoholism and, in the book due out this fall, addictive relationships. Everybody has opinions about drinking and relationships, and the views that come out when I write about these issues can be provocative even when I just want readers to relax and enjoy the story. At any rate, there is plenty of meat for discussion in writing that takes a position. Before the Malice panel, our moderator circulated a number of questions. The one that stuck in my head and wouldn’t stop itching until I scratched it was this:
“Must we present a ‘balanced’ view? Introduce opposing sides or viewpoints on an issue?”
Some mysteries lend themselves to balance. Their authors can create appealing characters who take opposing points of view and “tackle” the social issues they address by making a case for both sides. The book that springs most readily to mind is Canadian author R. J. Harlick’s The River Runs Orange—probably because we were Malice-Go-Round partners last year and speed-dated our way through twenty tables of readers and twenty repetitions of our respective three-minute pitches for our new books. Harlick’s protagonist finds some ancient human remains and feels torn between the competing claims of scientists who want to study them and the local band of Algonquins who want to give them a sacred reburial.
Some mystery authors take a strong stand for one point of view, but present the opposing beliefs and values by giving them to the villains. At the top of this list is Betty Webb, whose powerful Desert Wives portrayed the plight of young girls forced into polygamous marriages in patriarchal compounds in the Southwest so eloquently that it influenced legislation against the abuses it portrayed.
My intuitive short answer to the original question of whether we must present opposing viewpoints along with our own position was, “Hell, no. The opposition is doing fine without me.” When I started to think about how I could elaborate on that, I realized that I could name seven distinct “opposing sides” to the themes in my first two mysteries: alcoholism in Death Will Get You Sober and addictive relationships in Death Will Help You Leave Him—or to put it positively, recovery from addictions and the true nature of love.
I base my position on many years of experience as a mental health and addictions professional, director of treatment programs, and psychotherapist as well as many years of life experience and hard-won personal growth. Yet for many of my readers, the positions in these books will come as a surprise. Our culture has deeply embedded misperceptions about drinking, recovery, and relationships. Therapy flourishes in our society because we have to unlearn mainstream beliefs and values in order to move toward emotional health and maturity. The case against the views I explore through my characters is already made and constantly reiterated. My task is to offer readers a fresh look at the alternatives.
Here are the seven areas in which I can identify my stance and the opposing viewpoint:
1. Alcoholism is a disease with symptoms, a clinical course, and treatment. (The opposing view: Alcoholics are weak and lack will power.)
2. Alcoholics must abstain from alcohol and other mood-altering substances to achieve and maintain recovery; in other words, sobriety is always the goal. (The opposing view: It’s too hard for alcoholics to stay sober; harm reduction and moderation management are valid goals.)
3. In the absence of recovery, alcoholism is a painful, tragic, and life-threatening disease, characterized by increased tolerance and loss of control. (The opposing view: Excessive drinking or drunkenness is laughable and entertaining. High tolerance for alcohol—the proverbial hard head or hollow leg—is proof that the drinker is in control.)
4. Alcoholic drinking impairs functioning in every area of life, including health, mental acuity, productivity, relationships, and creativity. (The opposing view: Alcoholic drinking fosters creativity.)
5. Intimate relationships take work and require both a sense of self and an available and accepting partner. People who stay in bad relationships may have attachment problems, love addiction, and/or codependency. (The opposing view: Persistence in a relationship in spite of the partner’s abuse, unavailability, or indifference demonstrates love.)
6. Intimacy, or long-term bonding, is the key to a successful relationship. (The opposing view: falling in love, ie passion or short-term bonding, is the key to a successful relationship and can be maintained indefinitely.)
7. Psychotherapy and recovery programs are powerful tools for change and growth that can help and empower those who use them well. (The opposing view: Psychotherapy and recovery programs are merely psychobabble.)
Of course, this is not how I’d put any of this in a work of fiction. Like all my fellow panelists who write about social issues, I have a horror of sounding preachy. Instead—let me quote my characters Barbara and Bruce in Death Will Help You Leave Him:
“He swore he’d change,” Barbara said, “and she believed that this time he meant it.”
Right. Pigs may fly. But first you have to go down to Kitty Hawk and build them some wings.
Showing posts with label codependency. Show all posts
Showing posts with label codependency. Show all posts
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Codependency
Elizabeth Zelvin
Among the satisfactions of reading mysteries—along with solving a puzzle through deductive reasoning, getting to know characters and their friends and families over the course of a series, and seeing wrong punished and justice done—is learning about some occupation, culture, place, or idea that we might otherwise know nothing about. For example, Dick Francis has taught us all about horses: how they are raced, bred, cared for, invested in, and transported. Nevada Barr teaches us about the beauties, delights, and dangers of America’s National Parks. For the writer, a mystery is also an opportunity to pitch a point of view that may broaden readers' perspective and maybe knock some of their biases on the head. For instance, Judy Clemens tells me not only more about dairy farming than I dreamed existed, but also that bikers who ride Harleys are not all outlaws and Hell’s Angels and in fact include some pretty darn nice people.
One reason I write is that as a therapist and an addictions professional, I have a lot to say about alcoholism and codependency and also about recovery and personal growth. My forthcoming mystery, Death Will Get You Sober (2008) gives me a chance to say some of these things, I hope entertainingly, through my characters and their adventures. So let me tell you about Barbara, my codependent character. Barbara’s an addictions counselor who lives to help others and mind everybody’s business. It makes her a great amateur detective, even better because she’s always getting into trouble.
Barbara means well, but she can get a little preachy. I originally meant her to be my protagonist, along with Bruce, the newly sober alcoholic. But I demoted her to sidekick at an editor’s suggestion. Now she preaches to Bruce and his best friend Jimmy (who’s her boyfriend) instead of to the reader, which is a good thing. She also apologizes a lot. That’s a codependent—self-righteous, sure she’s always right, and at the same time sure she’s always wrong.
When I first started talking professionally about codependency, most people had ever heard of it. Now the term is used so often that some people are sick and tired of it. I still think it’s a useful way to describe a body of attitudes, feelings, and behavior that cause a lot of misery and confusion. To define it broadly, codependency is a tendency to get your identity and your self-esteem from somewhere other than inside yourself.
Many codependents come from alcoholic or other kinds of dysfunctional families. Many love or have addictive relationships with alcoholics, addicts, or otherwise needy and unavailable people. But beyond that, our whole culture gives us messages that can foster codependency, like “love is never having to say you’re sorry” and “stand by your man.” Codependents are programmed to rescue and control (or try to). This makes them a perfect fit for such occupations as doctor or nurse or therapist—or cop or PI or amateur sleuth. They want to set things right, and they’re afraid if they don’t do it, it won’t get done. At the same time, they’re people-pleasers who worry a lot about what other people think. Underneath, they want desperately to be loved. Think dogs—not cats. On the outside, codependents can be bossy or clingy. Either way, they’re marshmallows inside.
Can you think of characters in mysteries who sound like codependents? Have you met any in real life? Do you struggle with codependency yourself? Let’s hear about it. Though please remember--a blog is not an online therapy session. ;)
Or if you'd rather talk about mysteries than codependency: What worlds and occupations have you particularly enjoyed entering through books, especially mysteries?
Among the satisfactions of reading mysteries—along with solving a puzzle through deductive reasoning, getting to know characters and their friends and families over the course of a series, and seeing wrong punished and justice done—is learning about some occupation, culture, place, or idea that we might otherwise know nothing about. For example, Dick Francis has taught us all about horses: how they are raced, bred, cared for, invested in, and transported. Nevada Barr teaches us about the beauties, delights, and dangers of America’s National Parks. For the writer, a mystery is also an opportunity to pitch a point of view that may broaden readers' perspective and maybe knock some of their biases on the head. For instance, Judy Clemens tells me not only more about dairy farming than I dreamed existed, but also that bikers who ride Harleys are not all outlaws and Hell’s Angels and in fact include some pretty darn nice people.
One reason I write is that as a therapist and an addictions professional, I have a lot to say about alcoholism and codependency and also about recovery and personal growth. My forthcoming mystery, Death Will Get You Sober (2008) gives me a chance to say some of these things, I hope entertainingly, through my characters and their adventures. So let me tell you about Barbara, my codependent character. Barbara’s an addictions counselor who lives to help others and mind everybody’s business. It makes her a great amateur detective, even better because she’s always getting into trouble.
Barbara means well, but she can get a little preachy. I originally meant her to be my protagonist, along with Bruce, the newly sober alcoholic. But I demoted her to sidekick at an editor’s suggestion. Now she preaches to Bruce and his best friend Jimmy (who’s her boyfriend) instead of to the reader, which is a good thing. She also apologizes a lot. That’s a codependent—self-righteous, sure she’s always right, and at the same time sure she’s always wrong.
When I first started talking professionally about codependency, most people had ever heard of it. Now the term is used so often that some people are sick and tired of it. I still think it’s a useful way to describe a body of attitudes, feelings, and behavior that cause a lot of misery and confusion. To define it broadly, codependency is a tendency to get your identity and your self-esteem from somewhere other than inside yourself.
Many codependents come from alcoholic or other kinds of dysfunctional families. Many love or have addictive relationships with alcoholics, addicts, or otherwise needy and unavailable people. But beyond that, our whole culture gives us messages that can foster codependency, like “love is never having to say you’re sorry” and “stand by your man.” Codependents are programmed to rescue and control (or try to). This makes them a perfect fit for such occupations as doctor or nurse or therapist—or cop or PI or amateur sleuth. They want to set things right, and they’re afraid if they don’t do it, it won’t get done. At the same time, they’re people-pleasers who worry a lot about what other people think. Underneath, they want desperately to be loved. Think dogs—not cats. On the outside, codependents can be bossy or clingy. Either way, they’re marshmallows inside.
Can you think of characters in mysteries who sound like codependents? Have you met any in real life? Do you struggle with codependency yourself? Let’s hear about it. Though please remember--a blog is not an online therapy session. ;)
Or if you'd rather talk about mysteries than codependency: What worlds and occupations have you particularly enjoyed entering through books, especially mysteries?
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