Book Review: Momma and the Meaning of Life: Tales of Psychotherapy

There are two writers whose new publications I invariably look forward to. One is the Danish novelist, Peter Høeg; the other is the American psychiatrist and psychotherapist, Dr. Irvin Yalom. I am fairly certain that Yalom's work, to the readers of this journal, needs no introduction; Høeg's work, though nowadays regularly featuring in the 'best-sellers' lists, perhaps does - he is a teller of fantastically imaginative tales that transcend seemingly irrelevant dimensions such as genre and time¹. I had looked forward to Yalom's Momma and the Meaning of Life, and was by no means disappointed. I was, however, very pleasantly surprised to find that the comments I would more typically make of Høeg's novels now apply to some of Yalom's new 'tales of psychotherapy'.

In terms of content, the first chapter of Momma and the Meaning of Life sets the theme for the entire book. We meet the people, and encounter the places of Yalom's early life in Washington D.C., including, of course, the central character - 'Momma', who had died some ten years earlier. In a dream, Yalom confronts and accepts Momma, finding an answer to his childhood (and, apparently unexpectedly, adulthood) question, 'How d I do Momma?' - a question which Yalom dangles before us in various ways, as practitioners, but more importantly as human beings, throughout the duration of the book. The answer he receives serves chiefly to underline the existential importance of the question; for after Yalom's painful acknowledgement of his own childhood shame and anger - and eventually, but most importantly, his listening to Momma - comes a deeper understanding of himself and Momma as adults. After all, as Momma says, 'Mothers get to have dreams too.'

The next three chapters are also autobiographical, though through the more familiar medium of case studies. We are treated to a wonderful cast of character clients, and vicariously to some touchingly honest Psychotherapeutic moments. Those who enjoyed Love's Executioner will find themselves on familiar ground here, with all the beautifully worded insight and storytelling that this entails. In chapters two and three we find Yalom challenging himself and his reader in individual and group therapist mode, bravely and creatively doing battle with his counter-transference and attendant professional and personal concerns throughout. In chapter four - 'Seven Advanced Lessons in the Therapy of Grief' - Yalom the teacher shows us perhaps the only valid way in which a psychotherapist can deservingly adopt that mantle - namely, through the positioning of oneself as the learner in one's client work. This individual case chapter is, I believe, as valuable to the practitioner working in the area of bereavement as anything else previously published in the same field.

Hitherto unexpectedly, chapters five and six are fictional, and concern themselves with the client work of a 'Dr. Ernest Lash' (last seen in Yalom's 1997 novel, Lying On The Couch). The subject matter in each revolves around the issues of counter-transference, therapist transparency and professional practice. Chapter five is a tale of misplaced transference notes, with rather interesting consequences; chapter six, "The Hungarian Cat Curse' (it is here that the Peter Høeg comparison most readily applies) combines the unlikely genres of Psychotherapeutic case study and murder mystery. Perhaps the most curious thing is that this unusual alliance works very well indeed - here Yalom's writing, ever thought-provoking, shows considerable facility with the features of suspense and imagination, and, as always, a series of illuminating points about the professional practise of psychotherapy are communicated therein.

Momma and the Meaning of Life, therefore, is not purely a series of case studies, as we might have expected - it is not 'Love's Executioner' Part Two. Still less is it an exposition of method, à la 'Existential Psychotherapy' or the group therapist's bible, Theory and Practise of Group Psychotherapy: Yalom formally frees himself from this (in the context of this book) unnecessary task in a final note, wherein he directs the reader to the references and discussion to be found at his web-site (www.yalom.com - well worth accessing, if you've not done so already). This book is a snap-shot of Yalom's writing at this point in time, as he expands his media to communicate important messages about the Psychotherapeutic process and profession into the realm of fiction. Yalom notes that in this book, he has '...tried to be both storyteller and teacher.' His professional and academic competencies to go far, far beyond mere fulfilment of the role of the latter were, to most existential practitioners, never in doubt; on the evidence of this book's final two chapters, the accomplished Lying On The Couch, and the simply wonderful When Nietzsche Wept, he has certainly evidenced compelling writing talents that will facilitate his additionally being recognised as the former.

The deliberate exclusion of theoretical/technical material from this book, and its expansion beyond being a series of case studies may come as a surprise; to me, as I have indicated above, this was a welcome one. In the first place - and perhaps somewhat trivially - Yalom's non-reliance on (it must be said in his case, the rather futile) positioning of himself within the existential tradition broadens his audience - regardless of orientation, every practitioner, I believe, finds something of value in Yalom's books. Secondly - and more specifically to existential practitioners - consider the following: early in our careers, we come towards Yalom's work in search of technique and theory. We get both in abundance, but this is through his consistent challenge to us - his courageously transparent portrayal of his own (and thereby, a tacit encouragement to look at our own) counter-transference. These personal qualities, so ably communicated through his written work, are why Yalom is the great teacher he is reported to be - the supervisor every latter-day existential practitioner has ever wanted, and the Socratic gadfly of popular Psychotherapeutic literature. Consequently, we close a book of Yalom's - and more importantly, are compelled to re-read the same - for the sense of inspiration we have found therein. This book is no different. Momma and the Meaning of Life shows that Yalom's written work is developing in exciting new directions; nonetheless, we, his audience, can contact him as readily as ever.

References

Høeg, P. (1996). The History of Danish Dreams. Trans. B. Haveland. London: The Harvill Press.

Høeg, P. (1997). Tales of the Night. Trans. B. Haveland. London: The Harvill Press.

Yalom, I.D. (1980). Existential Psychotherapy. New York: Basic Books.

Yalom, I.D. (1989). Love's Executioner and Other Tales of Psychotherapy. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books.

Yalom, I.D. (1993). When Nietzsche Wept: A Novel of Obsession. New York: Harper Collins.

Yalom, I.D. (1995). Theory and Practise of Group Psychotherapy. 4th Edn. New York: Basic Books.

Yalom, I.D. (1997). Lying on the Couch: A Novel. New York: Harper Perennial.

Stephen James Minton