Mental Health Books From My Childhood Shelf
This week, I’ve taken a lot of time going through my old things, as I’m still staying in my childhood room. The bookshelf has been one of my favorite projects to tackle - I’ve found yearbooks from high and middle school, scrapbooks I made as a child and teenager, school notebooks and textbooks, and a bunch of old favorite novels I haven’t read in a long time.
Looking at my favorites helped me realize that many of them have ties to mental health. Whether they deal directly with issues or show characters moving through mental health journeys, they shaped the way I thought about myself and others going through similar situations.
Here are a selection of five books I read when I was younger that resonate with me today as much as they did then, and I hope my picks inspire you as well:
The Two Princesses of Bamarre by Gail Carson Levine was one of my first fantasy books - I’m pretty sure I read it even before Lord of the Rings - and even as I was captivated by the tale of dragons and fairies and adventure, the main character’s mind captivated me more. From the beginning, Addie was shown to be very anxious and have many fears, from small things like spiders to large things like losing her family. But when push comes to shove, she has to go on a journey herself, and finds her courage along the way. Meeting a main character who could be a heroine even though she lived with daily, nearly-constant fears was wonderful for me, and I loved cheering for her as she found ways to break down each obstacle before her. This book was one of the first times I ever saw some of my flaws in a character who I was rooting for, and loving her helped me love myself.
The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver was one of my favorite books I've ever read for school, for the myriad of perspectives it presents. Some of the characters are more complex than others, but as I encountered characters falling prey to addiction and trauma, and defining themselves by feelings of grief and inadequacy, I became engrossed in the story. I saw the book’s main antagonist as obsession, in this case obsessing over religion and conversion to Christianity, but I also found it fascinating whenever the book tried to separate the obsessions from the man having them and putting his family through so much. I’ve come back to this book many times, exploring different characters and enjoying the in-depth plunge into their minds. It’s not always a pleasant journey, but it gave me plenty to think about, and the realism of the voices helped me enjoy the book tremendously.
Turtles All The Way Down by John Green was the first book I read that dealt directly with OCD that didn’t make my skin crawl. After reading so many books that seemed to deal with OCD only at the surface level, or reduced it to stereotypes of cleaning, washing hands, and alphabetizing things, this book introduced me to a character whose OCD was a major part of her life, but it was presented so realistically I felt like I could predict where her head would go next. I loved that Aza felt so real, and especially that John Green didn’t use one of my most hated tropes of mental health fiction - making the character’s obstacles go away suddenly if the plot needs it. My most vivid memory from this book is a scene where Aza needs to do something quickly but an obsession is making her do it slowly, and loved that her OCD didn’t get tossed away the moment she needed to do something. It’s part of her from the beginning to the climax, and she can still be the main character - a poignant lesson indeed.
I first encountered Woolvs in the Sitee, a picture book by Margaret Wild and Anne Spudvillas, in grad school, when I still thought I wanted to be a teacher. In a class about picture book theory, this book stood out to me because of how fiercely it was debated in the class. Some people believed the book, which is narrated by a child named Ben, takes place in a post-apocalyptic world populated by scary creatures called “woolvs.” Others saw a deeper message, which hit me right in the face when I saw other characters telling him to go back to school or pick up a hobby - something no one would say in the middle of an apocalypse. When I read this book, I saw a boy living in his own mind, and that perception was only strengthened when he saw and heard things his adult neighbor didn’t. In the end, though, it doesn’t matter whether the “woolvs” are real or hallucinations - what matters is that Ben sees them as real, which makes them just as much a part of his world as the real world is for you and I. The only way to engage with the character is to accept what is in his mind, whether or not you believe it, and I gleaned a powerful message about not sweeping under the rug what people confess about what’s in their heads. It may be scary or strange, but true connection requires empathy.
Finally, The Red Tree by Shaun Tan is another picture book I found in grad school. As soon as I found the first page, I was entranced by the idea of a children’s book dealing with depression. The powerful images of the girl, alone, surrounded by feelings and things that are not real but are still extremely painful and isolating captivated me. But my favorite part of this book is the idea of the red tree, which symbolizes hope, and the fact that there is a single leaf from this tree hidden on every page, like a little kernel of happiness waiting to appear even in the darkest times. This book has inspired me to keep going even when things feel impossibly difficult, and also reminded me to look for the red leaf in my own life, and find hope where I can, no matter how small or insignificant it seems.
During this time, I’ve found it helpful to find hope wherever I can. Old books and games inspire me to keep my head up even when the world seems so strange, and I hope you all can find something to inspire you in these times of uncertainty and change.
Ellie, a writer new to the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.