Sunday, December 26, 2010

Review: If a Man be Mad by Harold Maine

The decision to post this review, which I wrote a while ago, was made after receiving an unexpected email on Christmas Day: A stranger, who has ties to Mr. Winslow, stumbled upon this review on Amazon and decided to contact me. An artist herself, a wonderful painter, she sent me a few kind words which reminded me of the importance of Mr. Winslow's work, both in clinical and in literary sense. If a Man be Mad, is unfortunately out of print, but those who make the effort to find a used copy will be rewarded with a stunning literary experience not easily found on today's mass-market bookshelves.

As cruel as the world itself

If a Man be Mad...there couldn't have been a more appropriate title for this gem hidden amidst the American literature. Walker Winslow, writing as Harold Maine, had written this fascinating book while living in Big Sur, at a time when other great writers, such as Henry Miller resided nearby. Whether it was Winslow's gift or the proximity of some of the greatest in modern American literature, Mr. Winslow has achieved what only but a few writers are capable of. He shook my world.
Comprised of two separated books, before and after, shall we say, the story follows Winslow on his quest to find himself. A man torn apart from early childhood, he struggles not only with his own shadows, but also with the society at large; mainly its arrogance and ignorance, lack of understanding and its unwillingness to change its ways, no matter how wrong they may be. Writing in first-person, Winslow recounts stories of men and women on both sides of the fence separating the insane from the sane, yet, he clearly portrays the malicious nature of the so-called sane, which the insane are incapable of. At times a psychological thriller, at times a downright horror, a human horror, the story moves swiftly away from childhood innocence to the first day in mental institution. An alcoholic, but above all, a vulnerable human being, Winslow experiences his first awakening -- the institutions are not meant to cure people, they are merely put in place to prevent them from being free. From the inhuman indifference the guards and caretakers display without any regard for the patients, to the accounts of brutal beatings when a patient gets out of hand, Winslow portrays his first stay at a mental institution with cruel honesty. When he gets out, uncured, yet a changed man, he goes from institution to institution. Touched by death more than once, Winslow recounts his hopes after discovering AA and his first pleasant experience at a hospital in NY, where the staff seems to care, giving the reader hope that the world is perhaps not as screwed up as it appears.
Bouncing between near-death incidents, (brought about by his drinking), marriages, divorces, struggle to be the artist he wants to be (not the artist he has to be to get paid), schizophrenia and consciousness, Winslow walks a dangerously thin line. When he tries his luck on the other side, whether to help himself or others, as an attendant in one of the dreaded institutions, he discovers that the whole system is flawed. His descriptions of the inhuman treatment of veterans returning from the war seemed almost unbelievable, until the recent scandal regarding a VA hospital broke out. It is sad to see that 60 years after this book was published, we, as a society, are still doomed by the same mistakes.
Without spoiling anything for the reader, Walker Winslow's story may not be unique in its core, but it is a uniquely told story. I have never read another book quite like this one; so poetic, so disturbing, so timeless. A mad man's account of the mad gathering we call civilization, a cry for help lost amidst the applause for politicians, a light of hope lost in the darkness. If a Man be Mad is a story worth reading over and over, for it does not get old, it does not get boring, it does not cease to disturb. One man's humanity against Humanity at large, philosophy, psychology and drama -- mixed together in a deadly cocktail of words -- bled onto the pages by an amazing author.

Friday, December 17, 2010

El Teide

This second installment in the unofficial poetry series about special places features two poems inspired by locations in the Canary Islands archipelago.

El Teide

I come to you in awe
a humble visitor 
in your paradise.

You welcomed me so many times before
giving me more
than what I had hoped for.

Amidst your rocky plains
I, just an ant
bowing before your magnificence. stand proud
letting me see you naked
while I walk through your pumice sands
and gnaw at your sides.

When Columbus came to refill his supplies
on the way to discover the New World
you disagreed with his quest,
spitting out lava and smoke
side by side with Guanche warriors.
You didn’t allow his fleet to land,
you knew the consequences.

It is a shame nobody ever listens to volcanoes,
to the messages you whisper at each dusk
as the clouds descends to cover your wounds
for the night.

A sacred place

The tide retrieved
behind La MontaƱa Roja
stripping the lava rock
of cold Atlantic waters -
- the impenetrable veil
thrown by Mother Nature
over your beautiful curves.

Walking alone
my steps resonate
through the empty caves
untouched by human hands.
Alone for centuries
You stand proud
casting your shadow
in the setting sun.

Paradise on Earth
they call it
but how many of them
come to see your real beauty
the rough tidal waters
carved in your face