Couch Fiction, a graphic tale of psychotherapy

Posted: Sunday 11 August 2013 by Unknown in
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My housemate recently handed me this with an all-knowing grin on his face, saying ‘I reckon you’ll really like this, borrow it and tell me what you think,’ so I did. (Thanks Dougie)

I am and always have been fascinated with human existence and why we do the things we do – social conditioning, guilt, shame, and epiphanies – to name just a few of the journeys we travel as people of this world. This graphic novel, story by Philippa Perry and artwork by Junko Graat (fabulous name), takes the reader on a journey of a therapist, Patricia, and her new client, James. And I loved it.

It’s set entirely in Patricia’s office, with illustrations depicting their facial expressions and body language, then annotations at the bottom of each scene describing the thoughts and processes of each individual. It takes us from the beginning, where he arrives at his first appointment, through to the end where he has taken on a new lease of life due to the therapy. We discover that James is a kleptomaniac, and that it dates back to when he was a child with an overbearing, powerful and neglectful mother (let’s keep it that simple, for the sake of brevity). More interestingly, though, is the process he goes through within the sessions; the progress he makes, and his internal thoughts and self-perceptions which are simply, elegantly and considerately described by Perry, as well as delicately but precisely visualised for us by Graat.

We explore the therapists own perceptions, her techniques, and her habit of placing words in her clients mouth or projecting what she believes to be the case, based on her own experiences – all of which she is interestingly self-aware of. To watch the interactions, and then read the thought processes behind them, was extremely interesting – and I couldn't put it down, finishing the entire piece in one day at 144 pages.

On James’ journey (and Patricia’s), we watch them form a bond, dancing constantly on the line between professionalism and intimacy, and discover that they learn from each other, and that it is not just a one way exchange. James goes through something that is called the storming stage. This comes after ‘forming,’ and then is followed by ‘norming,’ ‘performing,’ and then finally ‘adjourning.’ Each stage is distinctive from the next in that it creates the next epiphany and step on the ladder to a sense of achievement and finality, as well as self-acceptance and clarity on the client’s life, and next steps.

It is interesting to note that the practitioner is just as prone to attachment as the client, in that at the end, in a rather emotional but uplifting scene where James has reached the end of his therapy and is taking leave of his last session, they both cry. For me, it also illustrated the continuity of life, in that as he is walking away from her office, a new client is walking towards it – and we end with the line ‘an ending is an ending. An ending also heralds a new beginning.’

We are four days away from the end of our readathon! Wish us luck in kicking arse at these last reviews, and we’ll see you at our launch party – which will be a new beginning in its own right.


Peace and love, Sam

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