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Book
ReviewLiberating
One's uNconscious ProcessesTherapeutic dimensions of autobiography in creative
writing. Celia Hunt, 2003. London: Jessica Kingsley; ISBN 1-85302-747-2 (paper)
208 pp., £15.95
SAGE Publications, Inc.2004DOI: 10.1177/09675507040120020504
Shelley DaySclater
As
anyone who has ever kept a journal knows, autobiographical writ- ing can be,
and often is, therapeutic. This book explores the thera- peutic dimensions
of creative autobiographical writing, drawing on the author's own experiences
of tutoring a writing course and facili- tating writing groups, and on her
research into her students' experi- ences. The book is broadly about borderlands — life and art, psychology and writing, education and therapy. So if, at the
end of the day, it is an ambivalent book, perhaps that is not surprising.
It was the author's own experience of fictional autobiography — writing
that draws on personal memories and that seeks to convey the essences of the
subject's feelings, using the techniques of fiction — that led Celia
Hunt serendipiditously to appreciate that such writing could be therapeutic.
She noticed, for example, and this was sub- sequently echoed in many of her
students' experiences, a beneficial
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psychological
change — an increased inner freedom, greater psychic flexibility (perhaps
the key to creativity and psychological health), a stronger sense of personal
identity. This book tells us about the hows and whys of such therapeutic change.
Four case studies form the core of the book. These are constructed by the
author from the personal narratives, written and spoken words, of four former
students. But the reader is also introduced to some of the creative autobiographical
exercises the students them- selves would have done — of which, more
later. The picture is further filled out with detailed discussions of the
theoretical background — most notably the work of psychoanalyst Karen
Horney — that the author uses as a tool both for theorizing the therapeutic
potential of creative writing, and for analysing her own and her students'
narratives. A crucial issue for aspiring writers is the quest to find their
own writing voice — a style of expression that contains the writer's
own sense of self, a connection between the inner life and the words she puts
on the page. Essentially, finding one's writing voice is about lib- erating
one's unconscious processes. The reader, rather unexpectedly, embarks on a
creative journey of her own, pulled into the frame simply by reading about
the various exercises that are used to assist in identifying the authorial
voice. The temptation to stop reading and start writing is enormous. Hence,
I read the book in fits and starts — my reading punctuated by sojourns
into creative autobiography, as I tentatively tried the exercises, anxious
to see whether they would have any immediate therapeutic effect. I stopped
reading frequently, too, to take off my glasses, and stare into the middle
distance, reflecting on the little gems of insights that shine out from these
pages. The idea, for example, that it is better, and much more convincing,
to show rather than to tell what a character is feeling. Or the point that
you can sit down and write even if you have no idea at all what you are going
to write about. You find out what you have to say in the act of writing. That
means it is as easy as anything to write through an apparent `block'. I really
liked that one. Now, I think it is fair to say that this book is not a straightforward
read. It is about personal change, and change to old patterns and habits certainly
does not come easily. There is, for example, the tricky issue of how we should
manage the (possibly difficult) feelings that bubble to the surface as we
do the exercises designed to put us better in touch with hitherto concealed
parts of our inner selves. Doing this in the privacy of your own home, when
you were not expecting it, can be a precarious business. The guidance around,
for example, doing
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freewriting,
or getting in touch with spontaneous images that arise from the unconscious,
or exploring fragments of early memory, do not do much to prepare the unsuspecting
reader for the personal crisis intervention that they might be called upon
to do. So tread care- fully through the section on exercises. These are not
for the faint hearted, and are probably best done in trusted groups, with
a trained facilitator who can contain the anxieties that inevitably emerge.
This book has made me think long and hard about the tensions between writing
as art and writing as therapy, and about the further complications that are
possible when that tension is played out in an educational setting. As the
author makes clear, creating a safe holding environment for teaching is crucial.
This book also made me think again about the problems of using psychoanalytic
ideas in research settings. These are difficult and complicated issues that
need to be openly debated. I must confess to being a little disappointed that
they did not feature more prominently in this book. Perhaps the source of
our ambivalence about confronting these conundrums head-on lies in the nature
of the task — bringing together pedagogy, creativity, therapy, all of
which potentially pull in different directions. The picture is further complicated
by the ambiguous status of the research participants — they are both
students and research subjects, and we discover at the very end of the book
that at least one of them is pretty uncomfortable about the blurring of those
boundaries. This book raises some really crucial questions for anyone involved
in writing and researching auto/biography, and I would have liked more detailed
discussion of the issues raised by the blurring of bound- aries among art/education/therapy/research
to have featured more centrally in the text. It is only in her reflections
that the author men- tions the potential risks associated with making psychoanalytically
informed interpretations in the absence of the kinds of safeguards that are
routinely built into therapeutic relationships, but she leaves the reader
to ponder that crucial question. Questions about the ethics of auto/biography,
about where life ends and art begins, about the blurry lines between education
and therapy, questions about how we, as writers and researchers, use and abuse
the lives and words of others — these are the really fascinating questions
that arose out of this research. It is frustrating that the author leaves
us scratching our heads in this respect. But maybe, as they say, that is another
story...