Life is but a Dream -- Brian James
When Sabrina was a kid, her parents praised her for her "overactive imagination". But as she hit middle and high school, they grew less and less comfortable hearing about how differently she saw the world, and even with the way she thought, the things she'd grown to believe.
So they brought her to the Wellness Center. Which is, as she says, "a nicer way of saying loony bin":
—They say . . . that I live in my own thoughts too much— I say, putting it as gently as I can. I'm still not comfortable with the word they use—with saying I'm schizophrenic. I'm not even sure it's true.
She's been there for about three months now, and the doctors say that she's improving. They are confident that the therapy and drugs are working well, 'normalizing' her.
Enter Alec, a new patient. From the very first moment they meet, they connect. Sabrina feels that they've already met, actually, in a dream she had. Alec doesn't trust the Wellness Center. He doesn't trust the drugs, the therapy, none of it. He knows he doesn't need any of it.
And he doesn't think Sabrina does, either.
Okay. So, on the positive side. Much of the writing is descriptively, beautifully visual, and James really conveys the pure joy and pure terror that come with Sabrina's condition: it's very easy to understand why she feels a sense of loss when she starts to see the world in the less-heightened way that most other people do. Reading her voice is a completely immersive experience—that she waits so long before talking about the most difficult parts of her experiences just before being admitted to the Center, that she gets more paranoid and confused as the book progresses, that she doesn't always see that some of her actions are likely to cause more harm than good—occasionally frustrating, but always believable.
What wasn't believable was a detail that the plot hinged on.
And you know me: once I focus on a problematic detail or two, I have a hard time letting go. So here's my Big Question, though it entails a bit of a SPOILER: According to the doctors, Sabrina has been doing pretty well. Her meds are working to change her brain chemistry, etc., and even if she doesn't feel that she's making progress, her therapist believes that she is moving right along.
SPOILAGE CONTINUES: So, when she hooks up with Alec and he convinces her (not that it takes much convincing) to stop taking her pills, causing a rapid relapse, wouldn't the doctors at THE BEST FACILITY IN THE STATE check to be sure that she was still taking her meds? I mean, rather than immediately upping her dosage and then, shortly thereafter, deciding that none of it was working? It seems like that might be a pretty common issue, residents feeling uncomfortable with the changes and deciding to stop taking the drugs. Plus, it's not like Alec was ever, you know, subtle about being suspicious of the drugs. It wouldn't be much of a leap for the doctors to think, "Oh hey, they're hanging out a lot. I wonder if his influence might be having an effect on her choices/behavior?" Right? But all the way through the book, everyone just seems to take it for granted that she's taking them. END SPOILER/COMPLAINFEST.
So, that was a big old glaring problem for me. Less glaring, but still noticeable were the occasional snippets of dialogue that made Sabrina and Alec sound decades older than they're supposed to be, like Sabrina's suggestion to go "get something to snack on", or Alec's concern when Sabrina took "a nasty spill" or his mention of "tough girl-power kind of teen girls that are always in movies". Alec did get points for the Brave New World reference, though.
So. By all means, try it on readers curious about mental illness/stories set in psychiatric facilities, but when recommending it, keep in mind that A) the story is not at all plot-driven, and B) there are no quotation marks.
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Author page.
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Book source: ILLed through my library.