This book is part memoir, part American history textbook. Both of the author's sons were diagnosed with schizophrenia. The memoir chronicles his struggle to get them help in a country where "no one cares about crazy people." He examines the history of mental health care in America and the different ways that doctors and the government have tried (and spectacularly failed) to help mentally ill people. The book isn't completely bleak, though! The author is optimistic about how recent scientific breakthroughs will help mentally ill people in the future.

I have mixed feelings about this one. The historical information is great. I learned a lot, especially about the anti-psychiatry movement and how influential they were in shaping public opinion about mental health care. I appreciate the information, but I'm not a fan of the author's writing style. It's pretentious and self-indulgent. I understand that he loves his children, but do we really need deep dives into song lyrics they wrote? Or endless emails praising them for their good grades? I found myself skimming over the memoir to get back to the historical information.

I also think the book could have benefitted from interviews with other families of mentally ill children. The author (somewhat) kept his sons safe by sending them to boarding schools, buying them a house, finding them great doctors, and driving all over the country to rescue them when they got in trouble. How is the mental health care experience different for families who can't do those things?

This book is worth reading for the historical information, but I found myself getting frustrated with the author at times. I think his emotional investment in the subject prevented him from writing a balanced book about it.