James' World 2

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For months, during the main pandemic stretch, I’d get inexplicably tired in the afternoon, as though vital organs and muscles had turned to Styrofoam. Just sitting in front of a computer screen, in sweatpants and socks, left me drained. It seemed ridiculous to be grumbling about fatigue when so many people were suffering through so much more. But we feel how we feel.

Nuke a cup of cold coffee, take a walk around the block: the standard tactics usually did the trick. But one advantage, or disadvantage, of working from home is the proximity of a bed. Now and then, you surrender. These midafternoon doldrums weren’t entirely unfamiliar. Even back in the office years, with editors on the prowl, I learned to sneak the occasional catnap under my desk, alert as a zebra to the telltale footfall of a consequential approach. At home, though, you could power all the way down.

Still, the ebb, lately, had become acute, and hard to account for. By the standards of my younger years, I was burning the candle at neither end. Could one attribute it to the wine the night before, the cookies, the fitful and abbreviated sleep, the boomerang effect of the morning’s caffeine and carbs, a sedentary profession, middle age? That will be a yes. And yet the mind roamed: Covid? Lyme? Diabetes? Cancer? It’s no HIPAA violation to reveal that, as various checkups determined, none of those pertained. So, embrace it. A recent headline in the Guardian: “Extravagant eye bags: How extreme exhaustion became this year’s hottest look.”

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The result? Revelatory. Not for what I learned about them, but for what I discovered about myself, my own contribution to this romantic meltdown, and one thing or another about pretty much all the relationships that came before it. To say it changed the way I view (let alone operate in) romance since then would be a vast understatement.

So “yeah, of course,” I told my therapist like she asked me about FM radio. “I’ve read ‘Attached.’ What about it?” I went on to describe the various attachment styles the book describes, characterized my own, and explained how I’ve seen it reflected throughout my life.

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Shuhua Xiong

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Nothing about The Body Keeps the Score screams “bestseller.” Written by the psychiatrist Bessel van der Kolk, the book is a graphic account of his decades-long career treating survivors of traumatic experiences such as rape, incest, and war. Page after page, readers are asked to wrestle with van der Kolk’s theory that trauma can sever the connection between the mind, which wants to forget what happened, and the body, which can’t. The book isn’t academic, exactly, but it’s dense and difficult material written with psychology students in mind. Here’s one line: “The elementary self-system in the brainstem and limbic system is massively activated when people are faced with the threat of annihilation, which results in an overwhelming sense of fear and terror accompanied by intense physiological arousal.”

And yet, since its debut in 2014, The Body Keeps the Score has spent 150 weeks—nearly three years—and counting at the top of the New York Times best-seller list and has sold almost 2 million copies globally. During the pandemic, it seems more in demand than ever: This year, van der Kolk has appeared as a guest on The Ezra Klein Show, been profiled in The Guardian, and watched his book become a meme. (“Kindly asking my body to stop keeping the score,” goes one viral tweet.)

After all the anxiety and social isolation of pandemic life, and now the lingering uncertainty about what comes next, many people are turning to a growing genre of trauma self-help books for relief. The Body Keeps the Score is now joined on the best-seller list by What Happened to You?, a compilation of letters and dialogue between Oprah Winfrey and the psychiatrist Bruce D. Perry. Barnes & Noble, meanwhile, sells about 1,350 other books under the “Anxiety, Stress & Trauma-Related Disorders” tab, including clinical workbooks and mainstream releases. Sometimes, new installments in the genre seem to position themselves as a cheat code to a better life: Fill out the test at the back of the book; try these exercises; narrativize your life. One blurb I read, on the cover of James S. Gordon’s Transforming Trauma, basically said as much: “This book could give you back your life in unimaginable ways, whether you think of yourself as a trauma victim or not.”

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Matt Chase

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This month’s selections include a period sci-fi/action hybrid, low-budget domestic puzzlers and a mega budget, yet overlooked, time-travel spectacle.

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Chloë Grace Moretz in “Shadow in the Cloud,” directed by Roseanne Liang.Credit…Vertical Entertainment

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Dear Pay Dirt,

I’m in the process of divorcing my good-for-nothing, lazy, hateful wife. For years she has stayed at home, where she spent my money and had me subsidize her lifestyle while she supposedly was doing the “hard work” of raising children. Whenever I came home from a busy, hectic day, she would throw the kids at me, then sit on her phone while I did all the heavy lifting; on weekends, she would harangue me if I had the audacity to go out with friends when she has no friends of her own and expected me to be her entertainment. She complained that she never had a day off, but what about me?

We’re divorcing now, and she’s whining to everyone that she’s going to be penniless, that I’m throwing her out and she’s going to be homeless. She’s complaining that she gave up her career to take care of the kids. One of them is special needs but his needs aren’t that bad (just a feeding tube and wheelchair and a few weakness issues). I know she used it as an excuse to quit her job that she hated. She is lazy and spiteful and I don’t want to give her an ounce of my money, but I know my story isn’t sympathetic, and I’m afraid she’s going to take me to the cleaners. What can I do?

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Photo illustration by Slate. Photo by Martinbowra/iStock/Getty Images Plus.

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