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lb_leeHey guys, at the library yesterday, I got myself a weird old multi book: (George), by E. L. Konigsberg.
This book is kinda a fascinatingly weird artifact; it's a children's book from 1970, so before Sybil, and before the whole "multiplicity is caused by trauma" thing. Hell, this book is older than the freakin' diagnosis of Multiple Personality Disorder! Back when this book was written, it was "Hysterical Neurosis, Dissociative Type."
But anyway, this book, true to the other Konigsberg books we've read, is a quiet, gently-paced story about this chemistry geek, Ben, the "little man who lives inside of him" named George, and Ben's little brother Howard, who knows about them both. As Ben starts getting into middle school age, he starts having disagreements with George about a friend at school, and finally George, Ben, and Howard all have to join forces to set things right.
Konigsberg is really hit or miss for us. One of her books we love; others we have barely managed to get through. (George) is... somewhere in the middle. The writing feels stilted and lurchy sometimes, and it definitely has the Konigsberg trademark of everyone talking like nerdy grandparents. Plus the book has aged a bit strangely; this was a time before school shootings became commonplace, so the plot feels a little weird, for us anyway, and the ending was... I dunno, unsatisfying.
That said, this book was fascinating to read, just from a plural standpoint. Ben and George's system is written as having been around for as long as either of them can remember--certainly from very, very early childhood--and no trauma is involved. Ben is sometimes referred to by George as "Benjamin Body," because he's the one who does the actions; George's influence is limited to thinking and talking, so most of the time, he's Ben's peanut gallery, the constant commentator and smart aleck. His sole fronting power seems to be in talking to others, which he mostly doesn't, asides from little brother Howard.
While Konigsberg references Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde as an example of multiplicity (then again, how many middle-grade kids would recognize the Three Faces of Eve?), Ben and George are not a good/evil split. If anything, they represent the specialist vs. the generalist, or math vs. art. Ben loves organic chemistry, hard logic, and hyperfocuses on that. George, however, has the creativity, the flexibility, and as the adult of the two, he tries to persuade Ben to sometimes get out of his chemistry books and focus on other things. And while they don't always agree, and have their fights over the course of the book, they see themselves as in a symbiotic relationship, two best friends who just so happen to share a body. Their fights are best friend fights, not axe murderer fights, and it's stated by both them and the story that they work best together.
Konigsberg seems to see George as a positive presence for Ben. The two do not become singlet at any point during the book; the final page of the story, illustrated by Konigsberg herself, shows Ben and Howard walking down the street, two bodies casting three shadows. Oh yes, George is still there, and the lesson of the book is how important it is that Ben listen to him and care about him, not ignore or debase him.
A bit radical for a children's book that explicitly states itself to be about a kid with multiple personalities! Konigsberg seems to see George as a voice of common sense, perhaps more prominent and separate in identity to a singlet's, but equally valid. In her author's note, she writes, "if we have the courage to stay in touch with that wise little old man who lives inside of us, a single person can make decisions that are right and good, and help others to do so too."
Ben and George have no headspace, and don't know what each other look like. It's implied that Ben sees George as living inside his body somewhere, possibly in his stomach, but that's about it; they aren't really concerned about the details. They keep their plurality a secret mostly to avoid getting into trouble, but over the course of the book, they get caught talking aloud to each other while staying at their father's house. Their father's new wife decides Ben must be schizophrenic, and there is an excruciating (but also kinda hilarious) bit where she explains in Stepford saccharine tones that as a psychology minor in college, she knows for absolute fact that Ben is schizophrenic and needs to be fixed. It's very clear, though, that this woman is supposed to be dead wrong. Konigsberg takes care later in the book to have Ben's psychiatrist set the record straight, and in the author's note, which she wrote in 2007, she even says,
"At the time this story takes place, [...] there was a closed-mind policy about mental illness, and amateur psychologists--those with a few college psych courses under their belts--freely applied and misused the labels that were then in vogue."
Proof, I guess, that even before Sybil, the two conditions got confused a lot, enough to get on Konigsberg's nerves.
So yeah. I'm not sure I'd recommend this book as being awesome or anything, but it's an odd, quirky little historical artifact that at least depicts a multi system who are pretty happy and better off as they are! Worth a read, if you're curious, though be warned there is some mental health stuff in there that can be upsetting. But nothing really bad happens to anyone, and everything turns out all right in the end. This is a Konigsberg book, after all; even at their most intense, they have a quiet feeling to them.
This book is kinda a fascinatingly weird artifact; it's a children's book from 1970, so before Sybil, and before the whole "multiplicity is caused by trauma" thing. Hell, this book is older than the freakin' diagnosis of Multiple Personality Disorder! Back when this book was written, it was "Hysterical Neurosis, Dissociative Type."
But anyway, this book, true to the other Konigsberg books we've read, is a quiet, gently-paced story about this chemistry geek, Ben, the "little man who lives inside of him" named George, and Ben's little brother Howard, who knows about them both. As Ben starts getting into middle school age, he starts having disagreements with George about a friend at school, and finally George, Ben, and Howard all have to join forces to set things right.
Konigsberg is really hit or miss for us. One of her books we love; others we have barely managed to get through. (George) is... somewhere in the middle. The writing feels stilted and lurchy sometimes, and it definitely has the Konigsberg trademark of everyone talking like nerdy grandparents. Plus the book has aged a bit strangely; this was a time before school shootings became commonplace, so the plot feels a little weird, for us anyway, and the ending was... I dunno, unsatisfying.
That said, this book was fascinating to read, just from a plural standpoint. Ben and George's system is written as having been around for as long as either of them can remember--certainly from very, very early childhood--and no trauma is involved. Ben is sometimes referred to by George as "Benjamin Body," because he's the one who does the actions; George's influence is limited to thinking and talking, so most of the time, he's Ben's peanut gallery, the constant commentator and smart aleck. His sole fronting power seems to be in talking to others, which he mostly doesn't, asides from little brother Howard.
While Konigsberg references Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde as an example of multiplicity (then again, how many middle-grade kids would recognize the Three Faces of Eve?), Ben and George are not a good/evil split. If anything, they represent the specialist vs. the generalist, or math vs. art. Ben loves organic chemistry, hard logic, and hyperfocuses on that. George, however, has the creativity, the flexibility, and as the adult of the two, he tries to persuade Ben to sometimes get out of his chemistry books and focus on other things. And while they don't always agree, and have their fights over the course of the book, they see themselves as in a symbiotic relationship, two best friends who just so happen to share a body. Their fights are best friend fights, not axe murderer fights, and it's stated by both them and the story that they work best together.
Konigsberg seems to see George as a positive presence for Ben. The two do not become singlet at any point during the book; the final page of the story, illustrated by Konigsberg herself, shows Ben and Howard walking down the street, two bodies casting three shadows. Oh yes, George is still there, and the lesson of the book is how important it is that Ben listen to him and care about him, not ignore or debase him.
A bit radical for a children's book that explicitly states itself to be about a kid with multiple personalities! Konigsberg seems to see George as a voice of common sense, perhaps more prominent and separate in identity to a singlet's, but equally valid. In her author's note, she writes, "if we have the courage to stay in touch with that wise little old man who lives inside of us, a single person can make decisions that are right and good, and help others to do so too."
Ben and George have no headspace, and don't know what each other look like. It's implied that Ben sees George as living inside his body somewhere, possibly in his stomach, but that's about it; they aren't really concerned about the details. They keep their plurality a secret mostly to avoid getting into trouble, but over the course of the book, they get caught talking aloud to each other while staying at their father's house. Their father's new wife decides Ben must be schizophrenic, and there is an excruciating (but also kinda hilarious) bit where she explains in Stepford saccharine tones that as a psychology minor in college, she knows for absolute fact that Ben is schizophrenic and needs to be fixed. It's very clear, though, that this woman is supposed to be dead wrong. Konigsberg takes care later in the book to have Ben's psychiatrist set the record straight, and in the author's note, which she wrote in 2007, she even says,
"At the time this story takes place, [...] there was a closed-mind policy about mental illness, and amateur psychologists--those with a few college psych courses under their belts--freely applied and misused the labels that were then in vogue."
Proof, I guess, that even before Sybil, the two conditions got confused a lot, enough to get on Konigsberg's nerves.
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Date: 2017-10-12 02:33 am (UTC)