This book may well prove controversial. Packed full of practical examples and observations, I wonder exactly what the author has had to endure to come up with a volume about psychopathy and how to survive it. The author is relentless and thorough, and has produced a book that makes depressing reading, at times. But far more importantly, he develops several convincing theses – which work well for me – to explain not only what psychopathy is, but why, in evolutionary terms, it exists: Using a basic ‘predator and prey’ model, it is easier to see what we can do if we are in any kind of relationship with any kind of psychopath.
The author explains in detail the mechanisms we can use to help us notice those whom we might consider psychopaths, and, more crucially, enables those whose lives have been blasted by them, to find ways into recovery. The question that those who live with abusers are often asked is, ‘Why don’t you just leave?’ but, as the author makes clear, you cannot ‘just leave’ if you take with you an entire catalogue of negative beliefs (‘It must have been something I did’) and negative patterns that you have learned to accept in close relationships overshadowed by psychopathy.
I have read Hintjens’ book twice, each time finding things to reflect and learn from. The examples he cites are convincing, the explanations he offers are well thought out, and his solutions for the re-discovery of our personal power are strong and helpful. He does not claim to have all the answers, but he has enough of them, even in such a controversial field, that I can ponder, reflect, and make up my own mind. And if I do meet a psychopath – it turns out, I have not met very many – I can understand what makes them tick without becoming embroiled in fruitless personal introspection about what I could have done differently. I love having the power at my fingertips to observe and become more aware, without worrying that there was something I could have done better, something I should have understood. When things go wrong, it is tempting to blame ourselves: ‘If only I had been more…or less…’ The Psychopath Code’ makes it clear that the best we can do is wise up, move on, and learn from our mistakes.
You don’t have to agree with all its ideas to find this volume beneficial. The basic themes are all there, and leave us room to develop our own views and insights. That in itself is very empowering. Thank you, for a most useful volume which tells me, in relatively few words, not only how to spot psychopathic behaviour, but what I can do if it fixes its laser beam on me.
Authonomy, the HarperCollins on-line community has closed, and I now know how lucky I have been, to be part of that. The friendships and companionship I found there have been incalculably valuable, the humour and shared solidarity irreplaceable and, for me, uniquely rewarding: With the best will in the world, hubby cannot console me when I am working away in the dead of night, on yet another scheme and hope. Across the airwaves I have found genuine understanding, love and empathy that has fuelled my hopes and kept them alive.
If I am ever invited to speak about my experiences of writing, I favour a very lose, informal beginning, something like, ‘If anyone had told me ten years ago, what I might expect to encounter when setting out on the writer’s journey, I would have run screaming in the opposite direction and not stopped until I had reached rural Italy!’ It is often just as well that we don’t know what’ ahead, and that life proceeds, one step at a time.
I wonder at my fear of authority, for example, that has often left me mute and desperate (yes, rather like the old joke of the boy at the public toilet holding a bent penny in his hand) while others have appeared to surge easily forward. Now I know two things. First, other people are just as fearful and as brave as me; and Second, that life will not fall apart if I ask for what I would like. Indeed, if I am fearless, I may find Life falling together rather well. I just have to locate the courage to ask simple questions, and proceed gracefully from there. Me? Graceful? I can be, apparently, just as we all can. Other people don’t make such a fuss, is all.
I am also deeply saddened at the death of one of my favourite authors, Judith Williamson, a long-standing and much valued member of Authonomy. I just finished reading her first novel, ‘The Mark’ written under her pen-name JL Fontaine. Numerous heartfelt tributes on Facebook and elsewhere testify to the deep love and esteem in which Judith was held.
I was so relieved to have found Judith’s book, and pleased to have become re-acquainted with writing which I can recommend unreservedly, for being empathic, careful and extremely thoughtfully set down. What a pity that Fontaine’s first offering, ‘Stonebird’ (about which there are still a few cache memory references to be found on the Web) has not been published. Now, there would be a project worthy of completion.
It has never occurred to me before, in any way that I could explain, at any rate, that how we feel when we are reading a book, is different from the way we may feel about the same book, when we are reviewing it. I may be totally engrossed in a narrative, and yet, when I review a book, I might comment on the social context, the narrative flow, whether the characters are plausible and so on.
I asked my husband if this was legitimate. Would it be acceptable, for example, to be totally taken up with a story, and yet, on review, discount that feeling and focus on more general issues? He said that was entirely to be expected; and indeed, I suppose that is what it means to review a book. We read, then we stand back and take another look.
I have read several of the ‘Jack Reacher’ books, – I tend to blitz on one author at a time – and while I was reading them, I have found myself totally caught in them. That I began to see them as rather two dimensional and, as the series progresses, increasingly violent and morally debatable, are issue that at first did not really get a look in. I was more intrigued with Child’s use of language and short sentences….It was only after having read a solid handful and noticing the increasing violence and the oddly dubious moral distinctions, that I finally decided to stop reading them. Distaste came slowly, when I saw patterns emerging. Pick up a Reacher book, and I have to admire the hook on almost every page…..In a review, I would mention that they are compulsively readable, but would want to focus more on my reasons for refusing to read any more of them.
It works both ways, of course. I have read lots of chic lit, and know by now which authors are most likely to tick my boxes, but have to be careful not to make too many assumptions. Reflecting on how much I would have missed if I had simply hiccupped at the occasional grammar flub in my latest read before putting it away unread – ‘actually, this is really amusing and she has the flavour just right’ – reminds me that sometimes, persistence pays off.
Should we focus on how we feel when we are reading and enjoy getting carried away by the action? Or are we right to offer a more reflective opinion? Compulsion is what sells books, but are reviewers right to focus on other issues?
Today I am delighted to introduce Frances Kay, a writer and children’s playwright. I first met up with Frances (‘Fan’) on a lively on-line writers’ forum. Apparently, she agreed to read my own book after noticing that I had included the word “sossidges” in a comment to a mutual friend. We swapped reads, and since then, have kept in touch. Fan’s writing is very strong, eerily atmospheric and convincing, threaded through with sardonic wit and humour. Fan’s first book, MICKA was published in 2010 by Picador and won 100% positive reviews from The Guardian, The Times and the Financial Times, as well as being featured on BBC radio 4’s programme ‘A Good Read’. Her second novel, DOLLYWAGGLERS, has recently been published by Tenebris Books.
Welcome, Frances. Can you tell me a little about what inspired you to write the ‘Dollywagglers’?
A long time love of dystopian literature, ever since I read ‘1984’ when I was fifteen. Orwell was my idol – a principled, disillusioned man with a love of England and the English language. I was especially taken with Orwell ‘s uncompromising vision of a nightmare future when I learned that he was fatally ill with TB as he wrote it, and died soon after it was published.
I wanted to express my disappointment, my anger and my love for England in this story, which I could only do from an exile’s perspective (I was living in Ireland when I wrote it), and when I was diagnosed in 2012 with an inoperable tumour, I felt reckless and emboldened to write my truth, even if it is hard to read. Parts of it were hard to write.
Any tips for developing a writing habit? Do you write every day or do you prefer to write when you are in the mood?
For a person who makes their living from writing, I’m a very bad example! I either need a commissioning theatre company breathing down my neck, or I have to wake up at seven and feel the desperate urge to get to my computer. I write in bursts, in a trance state. Of course, editing and improving can be done less breathlessly!
You call DOLLYWAGGLERS a dystopia, filled with refreshing anger and dark, bitter humour. What attracts you to writing dark fiction?
We all have a shadow side that needs to come out and play. I write plays for children and young people, and they deserve hope and optimism, but when I write for adults, I can let loose my darker self – and she has a field day. I also enjoy reading this kind of fiction, if it is well written. I’m thinking now of books like Helen Dunmore’s ‘A Spell in Winter’ – she’s a terrific writer.
What was the publishing process like for you?
Two publishers so far, and they could not have been more different. Picador is an imprint of Macmillan, and being accepted by this huge concern with its glamorous reputation was such an honour, I was ready to say yes to anything. They have a publicity and sales machine, so the process of getting my book ready for publication involved me saying yes to a cover I didn’t like, that I felt did not reflect the story within. After MICKA was published, I felt rather neglected. The next book by Picador followed mine a week later, and it was Emma Donohue’s ‘Room’. The excitement around that book and the Booker shortlisting, reinforced my feeling of being suddenly orphaned. No one from my publishers came to the launch event I set up, and I had to suggest to Picador they enter my book for the McKitterick Prize [it was the runner up].
Tenebris Books is another kettle of fish entirely. DOLLYWAGGLERS is the first one of this new imprint of Grimbold Books to be published, and they went to huge efforts to help me launch it with a splash. They asked for my input with the cover, and Ken Dawson, their designer, transformed a photo I gave them of two seedy puppets on Southwold beach into a sleazy, brooding cover that exactly captures the spirit of the book – I love it. They also provided champagne for the launch in London, and Zoe Harris, my editor, flew over with her husband from Norway, and made a fabulous speech at our launch. All the production team was there. I felt so loved! Even more importantly, Zoe and Sammy [of Grimbold Books] love the book with a passion, and our editing was done painlessly and collaboratively. They even paid an advance – and that is a rare thing, these days. I hope they will publish my next book.
And your future plans?
My life expectancy, though uncertain, is, I am assured, at least ten years. If I can publish another three novels, I will feel completely fulfilled. I want to leave something my children and grandchildren can read when they are older; I’ll still be a presence in their lives. I’m working on a sequel to DOLLYWAGGLERS; I felt there was a lot more story to explore. And I’m still writing plays for young people. Plenty more ideas in my head!
Thanks for inviting me on your blog, Fran. I’ll be happy to have you as a guest on mine, as I love your book ‘Trapped’, which has a wonderfully poignant, evocative cover.
Thank you too, Frances. It has been such a pleasure to host you today. I hope all your publishing dreams come true.
If you had said, “Stephen King” in my hearing last week, I would probably have turned away with a hint of distaste, perhaps thinking, “I have enough contemporary horror in my life already, thanks very much”. Which just shows how wrong you can be. Facebook is great too, a wonderful social network of friends and buddies who offer moral support and good ideas. It allows sharing, too, like this wonderful link, for instance:-
One of my writer friends happened to mention that King has also written a book about writing. After reading that article, and the chapters posted on Amazon, I bought “On Writing” and am reading it with pleasure. Which is what Stephen King did for me.
King’s top 20 rules answer my current state perfectly: reminding me that writing a first draft is primarily for our own benefit, primarily for fun, and deserves some good quiet time away from distractions. It is when doing cuts, revisals and edits that the opinions of other people may enter the process, not when we are in the midst of our first creative enthusiasm. Hurray! Thank you, Stephen. Now I can let my enthusiasm run away with me, and just see where we can go with it. That kind of fun energy is such fun to have around.
October 25, 2015
The Psychopath Code by Pieter Hintjens
Fran Macilvey Books I Have Reviewed 4 Comments
The Psychopath Code by Pieter Hintjens
This book may well prove controversial. Packed full of practical examples and observations, I wonder exactly what the author has had to endure to come up with a volume about psychopathy and how to survive it. The author is relentless and thorough, and has produced a book that makes depressing reading, at times. But far more importantly, he develops several convincing theses – which work well for me – to explain not only what psychopathy is, but why, in evolutionary terms, it exists: Using a basic ‘predator and prey’ model, it is easier to see what we can do if we are in any kind of relationship with any kind of psychopath.
The author explains in detail the mechanisms we can use to help us notice those whom we might consider psychopaths, and, more crucially, enables those whose lives have been blasted by them, to find ways into recovery. The question that those who live with abusers are often asked is, ‘Why don’t you just leave?’ but, as the author makes clear, you cannot ‘just leave’ if you take with you an entire catalogue of negative beliefs (‘It must have been something I did’) and negative patterns that you have learned to accept in close relationships overshadowed by psychopathy.
I have read Hintjens’ book twice, each time finding things to reflect and learn from. The examples he cites are convincing, the explanations he offers are well thought out, and his solutions for the re-discovery of our personal power are strong and helpful. He does not claim to have all the answers, but he has enough of them, even in such a controversial field, that I can ponder, reflect, and make up my own mind. And if I do meet a psychopath – it turns out, I have not met very many – I can understand what makes them tick without becoming embroiled in fruitless personal introspection about what I could have done differently. I love having the power at my fingertips to observe and become more aware, without worrying that there was something I could have done better, something I should have understood. When things go wrong, it is tempting to blame ourselves: ‘If only I had been more…or less…’ The Psychopath Code’ makes it clear that the best we can do is wise up, move on, and learn from our mistakes.
You don’t have to agree with all its ideas to find this volume beneficial. The basic themes are all there, and leave us room to develop our own views and insights. That in itself is very empowering. Thank you, for a most useful volume which tells me, in relatively few words, not only how to spot psychopathic behaviour, but what I can do if it fixes its laser beam on me.
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