Turtles All the Way Down

So, I have OCD. I was diagnosed many years ago, after several years of suffering in shame and confusion, and it feels both (1) integral to my identity and (2) completely foreign from the “real” me. This book was actually recommended to me by my Expensive Professional OCD Whisperer (i.e. therapist), and - indeed - I was perversely THRILLED to learn that John Green - someone I've admired for many years - also suffers from OCD, and has it pretty bad, and still manages to produce such amazing work (Crash Course! famous books!). You go, John! My OCD is generally something I'm cagey and shy about - but if John Green can be open about it, and if Andrew Gelman can be open about his Tourette's, then I know I also shouldn't be embarrassed. (Still, it's so embarrassing...)

Also, I used to write moderately popular Star Wars fanfic.

All this to say that I felt a special kinship to this book, about a teenage girl suffering from some pretty bad OCD and her Star Wars fanfic-obsessed best friend.

First, I feel an enormous affection and gratitude for ANY cultural depiction of OCD that is vaguely accurate (hell, I even feel affection for the inaccurate portrayals, like As Good As It Gets or Monk). As Saul Tigh would say, “It's good to be seen.”

This book offered, indeed, a VERY accurate portrayal - while the details of any OCD sufferer's obsessions and compulsions are unique to them, the nature of the disease is very predictable. The “meta-thoughts” are boringly standard.

I loved how Aza, the protagonist, acknowledged the existential doubt that having OCD gives you - OCD is egodystonic, meaning it feels foreign, you feel “not like yourself” when you're deep in it. This raises all sorts of difficulties though: Why should it take so much work to “feel like yourself”, if your “natural” thoughts keep getting eaten by the OCD monster? Why does it feel like OCD is a separate entity living in your brain, something you have to outwit and bargain with and avoid and so on? Who's the true self in there?

I would hazard that ALL OCD sufferers absolutely loathe their OCD: they hate the intrusive, distressing thoughts, but they also hate what it turns them into - self-involved to the point of neglecting everything and everyone else around you. It can kinda turn you into a selfish asshole. I loved that John Green, speaking through Aza, acknowledges the bullshit of calling these mental illnesses “superpowers” - or the common cultural narrative of madness being akin to genius (Monk!). Oh, please. All this shit does is distract you by idiotic fears and then you get bad grades or forget your loved one's birthday, BELIEVE ME.

At the same time, this book actually helped me have MUCH better insight into the frustration of DEALING with someone with OCD. Every loved one who's had to deal with my OCD on a regular basis has, eventually, become incredibly frustrated and kind of thrown up their hands. Indeed, I lost patience with Aza immediately (sorry, Aza). When the sufferer's fears are so clearly absurd to you (Aza, for example, worries chronically that she'll catch a deadly bacterial infection), you quickly lose patience. “Omg this again?! JUST STOP.” Naturally, the sufferer is JUST AS frustrated, JUST AS out of patience, and is ALSO begging their brain to “JUST STOP” - but they can't. Anyway, this was helpful to feel - it gave me a lot of sympathy (and awe!) for people who love someone with OCD. Cuz it's hard! What a pain in the ass! This was handled very well in the book - e.g. Aza's best friend, Daisy, and her fanfic as an outlet.

Okay, anyway. This book is ALSO about a disappearance mystery (which feels totally unnecessary) and a teen romance. It's set in present day Indianapolis, and features John Green's habitually overwritten teenagers. It has waaaay too many references to high poetry and fine literature. Are all of these people reading Yeats?! Who ARE these people!? The tone is very one-note. Everyone is basically a mini John Green.

So that's just okay. But you still gobble the book down. Like The Fault in Our Stars, there's one (kinda gimmicky) hook - there, cancer; here, OCD - that keeps you reading. But remove the Horrible Illness, and you're left with kids that are, oof, pretty insufferable. I definitely liked, on a “hey we should be friends!” level, Starr from The Hate U Give more. I definitely like-hated, on a “omg hilariously awful teens from hell!”, the kids from MT Anderson's books more.

Henyway. So it's an okay book, with a heart - nay, a nutty imprisoned brain - of SPARKLY GOLD. I certainly wish I had found this when I was an obsession-addled teen, and I think John Green has, indeed, done something important by potentially offering succor and understanding to (quick google) ~2.3% people out there.