“Where the Roots Reach for Water” and “In the Jaws of the Black Dogs”
Two brilliant accounts of depression suggest that at century's end memoir may be our most dynamic form.
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Henry Miller noted that there are two kinds of writers: those who write the Truth and those who don’t; simple as that. Memoir is tricky, though. A factually accurate spilling of the guts has very little to do with the kind of artistic truth to which Miller — himself a depressed autobiographical writer — was referring. But two new books on depression by two vastly different writers prove that the memoir, despite its increasingly shaky reputation in this decade, may yet be our most malleable and dynamic form.
Jeffery Smith’s “Where the Roots Reach for Water” is part autobiography of depression and part cultural investigation into what, exactly, depression is. Smith pondered drowning himself in a Montana river when his cocktail of medications sent him spiraling even further out of control than the depression they were meant to treat had; after that event, he embarked on an intellectual journey in search of the true face of melancholia (his word for depression). The result is, like Annie Dillard’s Pulitzer Prize-winning “Pilgrim at Tinker Creek,” a compendium of one writer’s reading and thinking on the subject — essentially, a highly aestheticized commonplace book. What makes it singular is the intellectual and moral seriousness with which he thinks and writes about his illness while in the grip of it. And his control of structure and pacing is splendid.
The book is a searing account of his own depression. When Smith writes of stealing petty cash from the office where he has a job as a clinical social worker and not remembering it, then being asked to leave, you almost feel the effects of his illness — you are in the trap with him, humiliated. Intellectually, his investigation ranges from ancient theory, myth and astrology to Eastern philosophy, the literature of Appalachia, Christianity and contemporary psychology and biology. His ultimate point is that melancholia is and always has been an integral part of the complete self, and the notion of a pill to stanch the symptoms is ludicrous. The book is really two books, a personal history and a natural one, but ultimately it is a powerful, finely honed investigation into what, exactly, the self and sadness have meant and continue to mean over time and across cultural boundaries.
Greg Bottoms is the author of "Sentimental, Heartbroken Rednecks: Stories," from which this story is excerpted. It will be published in September. His previous book was "Angelhead: A Memoir," which will be released in paperback in September. More Greg Bottoms.



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