I
was 23, the same age as Marya Hornbacher, when her first book, the
eating disorder memoir WASTED, was published. I devoured the book,
simultaneously struck by envy (how could someone my age write with
such authority and emotional authenticity?) and admiration at her
courage to write so openly about such a deeply personal and painful
topic as her own decade-long battle with anorexia and bulimia.
WASTED has stayed with me since its publication, and I have often
found myself wondering whatever happened to that promising young
author, who, with the exception of a 2005 novel, has been silent
for the past decade.

Now I know.

In MADNESS: A Bipolar Life, Hornbacher candidly and often brutally
describes her life before and after the publication of her first
book. At that time, she, her friends, family and therapists all
believed that, with the conquering of her eating disorder, she
would finally also have control over her chaotic and at times
out-of-control life. Little did they know, however, that Hornbacher
was in the grip of a much larger mental illness, one that had been
overlooked since her childhood.

Even as a preschooler, Hornbacher rarely slept, waking her parents
at all hours of the night demanding to play. Her ambition and
seemingly inexhaustible energy actually served her well during her
school years, enabling the high-achieving young author to
accomplish far more than anyone could have thought possible. But
almost no one knew that Hornbacher was already using alcohol and
drugs to manage her manic episodes, engaging in sex in exchange for
drugs, and trying desperately to exert power over her
out-of-control body by cutting herself and developing a soon-to-be
life-threatening eating disorder.

Only after one of those cutting episodes resulted in a near-fatal
loss of blood, only after the publication of WASTED, only after she
had already alienated many of her friends, acquaintances and
colleagues did Hornbacher finally receive the diagnosis that would
redefine her life. Hornbacher was diagnosed with bipolar disorder
(formerly known as manic-depressive disease).

Giving a name to her condition was only the first step in a long
and painful process, however. Hornbacher's alcoholism sabotaged her
doctors' attempts to control her bipolar disorder; therapists
brought in to control her resurgent anorexia misdiagnosed her and
prescribed harmful anti-depressants; her own high-achieving
personality constantly undermined her will to manage her disease.
Soon her bipolar disorder threatens not only her one mature
romantic relationship but even her own life. In the end, though, a
compassionate husband, supportive friends and, most importantly, a
personal, conscious decision to re-imagine her own life allow
Hornbacher to strike a cautiously hopeful tone at the end of the
book.

MADNESS is, at times, a nearly exhausting memoir to read. Written
in Hornbacher's breathless, rapid-fire style, the prose
occasionally seems to echo her manic episodes, as ideas and details
come flying off the page a mile a minute. In addition, it can be
emotionally draining to spend so much space locked in another
person's troubled head --- but, as in this case, it can also be
fascinating to read an intelligent, compelling exploration of a
life defined by forces largely outside one's control. What's most
remarkable, especially in light of my own musings about "what
happened" to this eminently talented young author, is that she was
able to accomplish so much even when wracked by such a debilitating
disease, including writing much of this memoir in between a series
of hospitalizations over the past several years. In that light,
MADNESS is not only a much-needed exploration of an
often-overlooked disease; it is, for this particular writer, a
triumph.