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