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The Rules of the Tunnel: A Brief Period of Madness
A journalist faces his toughest assignment yet: profiling himself. Zeman recounts his struggle with clinical depression in this high- octane, brutally funny memoir about mood disorders, memory, shock treatment therapy and the quest to get back to normal.
Thirty-five million Americans suffer from clinical depression. But Ned Zeman never thought he'd be one of them. He came from a happy Midwestern family. He had great friends and a busy social life. His career was thriving at Vanity Fair where he profiled adventurers and eccentrics who pushed the limits and died young.
Then, at age thirty-two, anxiety and depression gripped Zeman with increasing violence and consequences. He experimented with therapist after therapist, medication after medication, hospital after hospital- including McLean Hospital, the facility famed for its treatment of writers, from Sylvia Plath to Susanna Kaysen to David Foster Wallace. Zeman eventually went further, by trying electroconvulsive therapy, aka shock treatment, aka "the treatment of last resort."
By the time it was over, Zeman had lost nearly two years' worth of memory. He was a reporter with amnesia. He had no choice but to start from scratch, to reassemble the pieces of a life he didn't remember and, increasingly, didn't want to. His girlfriend was gone; friends weren't speaking to him. His life lay in ruins. And the biggest question remained, "What the hell did I do?"
By turns hilarious and heartbreaking, profane and hopeful, The Rules of the Tunnel is a blistering account of Zeman's twisted ride to hell and back-a return made possible by friends real and less so, among them the dead "eccentrics" he once profiled. It's a guttural shout of a book, one that defies conventional notions about those with mood disorders, unlocks mysteries within mysteries, and proves that sometimes everything you're looking for is right in front of you.
Thirty-five million Americans suffer from clinical depression. But Ned Zeman never thought he'd be one of them. He came from a happy Midwestern family. He had great friends and a busy social life. His career was thriving at Vanity Fair where he profiled adventurers and eccentrics who pushed the limits and died young.
Then, at age thirty-two, anxiety and depression gripped Zeman with increasing violence and consequences. He experimented with therapist after therapist, medication after medication, hospital after hospital- including McLean Hospital, the facility famed for its treatment of writers, from Sylvia Plath to Susanna Kaysen to David Foster Wallace. Zeman eventually went further, by trying electroconvulsive therapy, aka shock treatment, aka "the treatment of last resort."
By the time it was over, Zeman had lost nearly two years' worth of memory. He was a reporter with amnesia. He had no choice but to start from scratch, to reassemble the pieces of a life he didn't remember and, increasingly, didn't want to. His girlfriend was gone; friends weren't speaking to him. His life lay in ruins. And the biggest question remained, "What the hell did I do?"
By turns hilarious and heartbreaking, profane and hopeful, The Rules of the Tunnel is a blistering account of Zeman's twisted ride to hell and back-a return made possible by friends real and less so, among them the dead "eccentrics" he once profiled. It's a guttural shout of a book, one that defies conventional notions about those with mood disorders, unlocks mysteries within mysteries, and proves that sometimes everything you're looking for is right in front of you.
320 pages, Hardcover
First published August 4, 2011
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1285 people want to read
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August 15, 2011Ned Zeman had it all - a career that was going well - he'd just landed a job as an editor at Vanity Fair magazine, a wonderful family, a fantastic group of friends and no lack of female company.
Was it the move? The pressure to succeed in his new position? His somewhat conflicted relationship with his latest girlfriend? Zeman found himself floundering - he was in the grip of a severe depression, soon unable to function. He sought help from therapists, medication and hospitalization. As the depression refused to be shifted and his life was spiralling out of control, Zeman decided to use what many think is a treatment of last resort - electroconvulsive therapy. You and I would probably refer to it as shock therapy with images of Nurse Ratched and Jack Nicholson springing to mind.
He is warned that the one serious side effect is memory loss. It is usually short term, with no lasting problems.
Not so in Ned Zeman's case. His amnesia is pretty much all encompassing. Not such a great thing for a man who makes his living as a writer and reporter. Rules of the Tunnel is Zeman's memoir of his "brief period of madness", reconstructed with help from friends, family, emails, notes and his own brief glimpses into his memory banks.
"You are an amnesiac. A person with impaired memory. In a major way. As in "Where are my pants?" and "What the hell am I doing in Yorba Linda?" As in today is June 15, 2008 and yesterday was January 15, 2007. As in "Where'd my f***ing life go?" and " I did what? When?"
At first the second person narrative annoyed me, until I thought it and realized that this made perfect sense. Without memories, it is if he is writing about someone else's life. This style adds to the sense of detachment.
I found Zeman's recounting of his compulsion to write about those who pushed the boundaries, living on the edge such as Timothy Treadwell, who thought he was 'one with the bears' - until they ate him, fascinating. He seemed to be searching for answers for himself through the exploration of other's lives.
Zeman's recovery is due in a large part to his 'support team'. His circle of friends are unbelievably supportive in helping Ned find his way back. I think their reactions and actions affected me more than Ned's situation. Again, the writing style seemed to put him at a distance from this reader. But, really, can one critique a memoir? This is someone's life that we are privy to. I applaud Zeman for opening up about his struggle and recovery. And encourage everyone to recognize those that could use someone to really ask "How are you?"
"Rules of the Tunnel:
Get up. Get the blood flowing. go somewhere. anywhere. Except to the shooting range or Ohio. Call someone, anyone. Some fifty-five million Americans have a mood disorder and every one of them feels a little less alone when the meet a fellow traveler.
Resistance is futile.
Adapt or die.
The future is yours.
These are the rules of the tunnel."
Was it the move? The pressure to succeed in his new position? His somewhat conflicted relationship with his latest girlfriend? Zeman found himself floundering - he was in the grip of a severe depression, soon unable to function. He sought help from therapists, medication and hospitalization. As the depression refused to be shifted and his life was spiralling out of control, Zeman decided to use what many think is a treatment of last resort - electroconvulsive therapy. You and I would probably refer to it as shock therapy with images of Nurse Ratched and Jack Nicholson springing to mind.
He is warned that the one serious side effect is memory loss. It is usually short term, with no lasting problems.
Not so in Ned Zeman's case. His amnesia is pretty much all encompassing. Not such a great thing for a man who makes his living as a writer and reporter. Rules of the Tunnel is Zeman's memoir of his "brief period of madness", reconstructed with help from friends, family, emails, notes and his own brief glimpses into his memory banks.
"You are an amnesiac. A person with impaired memory. In a major way. As in "Where are my pants?" and "What the hell am I doing in Yorba Linda?" As in today is June 15, 2008 and yesterday was January 15, 2007. As in "Where'd my f***ing life go?" and " I did what? When?"
At first the second person narrative annoyed me, until I thought it and realized that this made perfect sense. Without memories, it is if he is writing about someone else's life. This style adds to the sense of detachment.
I found Zeman's recounting of his compulsion to write about those who pushed the boundaries, living on the edge such as Timothy Treadwell, who thought he was 'one with the bears' - until they ate him, fascinating. He seemed to be searching for answers for himself through the exploration of other's lives.
Zeman's recovery is due in a large part to his 'support team'. His circle of friends are unbelievably supportive in helping Ned find his way back. I think their reactions and actions affected me more than Ned's situation. Again, the writing style seemed to put him at a distance from this reader. But, really, can one critique a memoir? This is someone's life that we are privy to. I applaud Zeman for opening up about his struggle and recovery. And encourage everyone to recognize those that could use someone to really ask "How are you?"
"Rules of the Tunnel:
Get up. Get the blood flowing. go somewhere. anywhere. Except to the shooting range or Ohio. Call someone, anyone. Some fifty-five million Americans have a mood disorder and every one of them feels a little less alone when the meet a fellow traveler.
Resistance is futile.
Adapt or die.
The future is yours.
These are the rules of the tunnel."
August 4, 2011
f you've never had problems with clinical depression, I can tell you from hard experience that it sucks. It's painful physically and emotionally. It's economically disastrous since it makes it very hard to work regularly. It's life-threatening. It turns the world into a muddy gray place that you are required to endure and you do so by the absolute hardest.
It makes you feel like you have barbed wire instead of veins. It makes it impossible to leave the couch much less the house. There have been times in my life when it was good that I smoked because eventually you run out of cigarettes and have to leave the house - good thing I wasn't a heroin user. Maybe the worst thing about depression is that it turns you into this completely pathetic, boring, annoying person whose friends want to smack about the head and shoulders just to get something back - anything.
Then there are the medications. So many choices, so many side effects that make those choices feel useless. You try and try - off and on meds - if you're lucky you find something that works for you, but not everyone is that lucky. For some people more extreme measures begin to appeal. Electroconvulsive therapy will make me stop feeling like I'd like to tear my eyeballs out if only I had the energy? Score! I'm there! Think about that - how awful you must feel if ECT or suicide become the best things ever ... See what I mean?
Rules of the Tunnel is the story of Ned Zeman's journey in and out of the tunnel. It's funny and that's good because lots of things about depression are just too grisly to discuss without some humor. Plus the return of humor tends to suggest that you're doing better and that is such a good feeling. Zeman has met the beast, determined that he is it (thank you, Pogo), and done what he could to defeat it by learning some important lessons - that humor is tool that serves you well, that the people around you may be the best solution to your problems, that the fight and endurance can pay off, and that sometimes extreme measures must be taken and the consequences of those measures may lead you to a sunnier place. Highly recommended.
It makes you feel like you have barbed wire instead of veins. It makes it impossible to leave the couch much less the house. There have been times in my life when it was good that I smoked because eventually you run out of cigarettes and have to leave the house - good thing I wasn't a heroin user. Maybe the worst thing about depression is that it turns you into this completely pathetic, boring, annoying person whose friends want to smack about the head and shoulders just to get something back - anything.
Then there are the medications. So many choices, so many side effects that make those choices feel useless. You try and try - off and on meds - if you're lucky you find something that works for you, but not everyone is that lucky. For some people more extreme measures begin to appeal. Electroconvulsive therapy will make me stop feeling like I'd like to tear my eyeballs out if only I had the energy? Score! I'm there! Think about that - how awful you must feel if ECT or suicide become the best things ever ... See what I mean?
Rules of the Tunnel is the story of Ned Zeman's journey in and out of the tunnel. It's funny and that's good because lots of things about depression are just too grisly to discuss without some humor. Plus the return of humor tends to suggest that you're doing better and that is such a good feeling. Zeman has met the beast, determined that he is it (thank you, Pogo), and done what he could to defeat it by learning some important lessons - that humor is tool that serves you well, that the people around you may be the best solution to your problems, that the fight and endurance can pay off, and that sometimes extreme measures must be taken and the consequences of those measures may lead you to a sunnier place. Highly recommended.
November 23, 2011
Once I got over the annoying second-person narrative technique ("You woke up in a panic, struggling to remember..." No, Ned, YOU woke up in a panic struggling to remember, I woke up with a cat barfing up a hairball on my bedroom rug) I was intrigued by this story of bipolar disorder, ECT, and the resulting amnesia. Memoirs by investigative journalists are usually pretty good -- it's interesting to see what happens when they turn those laser beams inward. (Best one ever: David Carr's "The Night of the Gun.")
September 4, 2011
The Rules of the Tunnel was an incredible disappointment. Being bipolar myself I read quite a few memoirs of mental illness to compare the experiences of others as well as their perspectives on their situation. Zeman’s, however, blew. Browsing GoodReaders’ supportive reviews, I’m confident that most were won over based simply on upon the semi-controversial content (mental illness, drugs, the overt selfishness on the part of Zeman, ECT, etc.) and name-dropping (Chris Farley, Richard Gere, Anna Faris, Jennifer Lopez, and all those other celebrities and authors he’d followed to McLean, considering himself part of some sort of bipolar elite). In this seemingly endless, “woe-is-me” memoir, the author is consistently undermining the effectiveness of his work with clashing literary choices in mood, setting, and word choice; failed metaphors and references; and the arrogance that overwhelms the plot due to his frequent quips and generally conceited descriptions of personal experiences. Oh yeah, and I will never again use the term, “the latter.” I was continually shocked (“he says it again?!”) at how many times he’d used this in a single novel—scratch that—chapter. I should have kept a count.
[more reviews on my blog]
While I can see how his sarcasm and wit made him a successful magazine writer, Zeman does not seem to grasp that its overuse only ends up hurting his novel. By page 145 I’d written him off as a strange combination of a writer trying too hard and arrogant. With each clever quip I could just imagine his haughty, self-satisfied smirk as he writes with complete disregard to the fact that he habitually wedged in about six for every 4” x 8” page. Perhaps he should have left a few descriptions to make their own impact without softening it with his primary defense mechanism of sarcasm (as can be confirmed by occurrences within the memoir).
Further, he wittily attempts to develop metaphors and references that are both useless and incorrect. While he seems to view his metaphors and similes as poignant, I ended up being put off by many of them. For example, on page 166, Zeman writes, “The interim remained a big fat blank, for the most part, but in a favorite sweatshirt kind of way—the opposite of regret being forget.” What? (Please explain if you do understand.) Similarly, he uses references from the outside world that I don’t believe to be useful to the average reader. When referencing previous phrases in his novel he does so incorrectly, as with “Stop tearing the paper.” He introduces it as a conscious decision to stop making destructive decisions then later refers to it in correlation with the decision to go for ECT to change his brain chemistry which is not exactly the decision to stop his depressive behavior but to add another factor to help him change—exactly what the phrase was intended to oppose in its first appearance in the novel. In the last few chapters, he again correctly repeats the words in deciding not to act on bipolar impulses without artificial aid.
These weren’t the only literary flaws. Zeman describes his lifestyle as interweaved with glorified celebrities and magazines; however, the vocabulary he often chooses doesn’t seem to fit this situation. How often do you hear of one immersed in the glamorous pop-culture lifestyle using words like “recidivist” or “prevarication?” See: Hemingway.
It took everything in me to reach page 308, honestly only doing so as an attempt to curb a bipolar habit of my own of starting books, projects and the like only to leave them to the pile of the forgotten a day or two later. As the novel dragged on and on and on and on I clung to a teensy bit of hope that there would be a powerful resolution and ending to compensate for the long-ass lull throughout the middle chapters. Unfortunately, I ended up feeling like Zeman breezed through the most significant occurrence in the book: ECT. The aspect of the memoir most advertised and supposedly centered upon. I guess he used “you” in reminding himself as a result of ECT. I did think this was a great concept of writing to oneself, having amnesia, and that it might have worked better in another novel.
Between the lagging and “the latter,” I wouldn’t choose to read another of Ned Zeman’s novels. After this tedious and frustrating experience, I have never been so happy to finally be over with a novel. Usually there’s a bit of sadness in the further inability to delve into others’ experiences; in this case there were jumps for joy to be done with the longest whining session and arrogant account to have ever existed. Lacking any real literary talent, relying far too heavily on sarcastic remarks, this book sucked.
[more reviews on my blog]
While I can see how his sarcasm and wit made him a successful magazine writer, Zeman does not seem to grasp that its overuse only ends up hurting his novel. By page 145 I’d written him off as a strange combination of a writer trying too hard and arrogant. With each clever quip I could just imagine his haughty, self-satisfied smirk as he writes with complete disregard to the fact that he habitually wedged in about six for every 4” x 8” page. Perhaps he should have left a few descriptions to make their own impact without softening it with his primary defense mechanism of sarcasm (as can be confirmed by occurrences within the memoir).
Further, he wittily attempts to develop metaphors and references that are both useless and incorrect. While he seems to view his metaphors and similes as poignant, I ended up being put off by many of them. For example, on page 166, Zeman writes, “The interim remained a big fat blank, for the most part, but in a favorite sweatshirt kind of way—the opposite of regret being forget.” What? (Please explain if you do understand.) Similarly, he uses references from the outside world that I don’t believe to be useful to the average reader. When referencing previous phrases in his novel he does so incorrectly, as with “Stop tearing the paper.” He introduces it as a conscious decision to stop making destructive decisions then later refers to it in correlation with the decision to go for ECT to change his brain chemistry which is not exactly the decision to stop his depressive behavior but to add another factor to help him change—exactly what the phrase was intended to oppose in its first appearance in the novel. In the last few chapters, he again correctly repeats the words in deciding not to act on bipolar impulses without artificial aid.
These weren’t the only literary flaws. Zeman describes his lifestyle as interweaved with glorified celebrities and magazines; however, the vocabulary he often chooses doesn’t seem to fit this situation. How often do you hear of one immersed in the glamorous pop-culture lifestyle using words like “recidivist” or “prevarication?” See: Hemingway.
It took everything in me to reach page 308, honestly only doing so as an attempt to curb a bipolar habit of my own of starting books, projects and the like only to leave them to the pile of the forgotten a day or two later. As the novel dragged on and on and on and on I clung to a teensy bit of hope that there would be a powerful resolution and ending to compensate for the long-ass lull throughout the middle chapters. Unfortunately, I ended up feeling like Zeman breezed through the most significant occurrence in the book: ECT. The aspect of the memoir most advertised and supposedly centered upon. I guess he used “you” in reminding himself as a result of ECT. I did think this was a great concept of writing to oneself, having amnesia, and that it might have worked better in another novel.
Between the lagging and “the latter,” I wouldn’t choose to read another of Ned Zeman’s novels. After this tedious and frustrating experience, I have never been so happy to finally be over with a novel. Usually there’s a bit of sadness in the further inability to delve into others’ experiences; in this case there were jumps for joy to be done with the longest whining session and arrogant account to have ever existed. Lacking any real literary talent, relying far too heavily on sarcastic remarks, this book sucked.
September 18, 2012
I have to say, although I love the topic, and I love the wit, I was disappointed with the language in this book. The author, although clearly very accomplished....he has written for Vanity Fair and I have not so who am I to say anything???? uses "you" instead of "I" as if to keep some distance between himself and himself.
His story is about his career as a journalist and the time where everything comes crashing down. He can not work and, ultimately, checks himself into the Pavillion at MacLean Hospital in Belmont Mass. The Pavillion is the part of MacLean where the wealthy go for psychiatric treatment as one can only pay out of pocket.
Amusingly, he names his therapists pre and post Maclean 1,2, 3, 4, 5, and 6. He talks about his struggles with medication, his love affair with Aderall, and his decision to go for ECT. He begins and ends the book describing his experience with amnesia from ECT.
He is lucky to have close friends who support him through his ordeal. Unfortunately, his romantic relationship is destroyed due to a possible manic? phase induced by ECT perhaps where he starts haunting an old girlfriend, Mimi. Oh, Ned, Ned, Ned. Why did you let the good one go?
He really dises the very celebs who he writes about which I find annoying. Also, the you thing when he is writing about himself. It grates on me. And, (sorry to be so critical) but the glibness...is it a guy thing? I feel like there is a level of pain that should be described but isn't. Or is this just me? For example, when I read Madness by Marya Hornbacher or I Never Promised You a Rose Garden, the old classic by Joanne Greenberg, there was no missing what the main character was going through. The experience was described so clearly.
I feel like Ned, like the magazine he worked for, doesn't want to go to deep.
It's interesting to read about some of the subjects he wrote about: the man who loves penguins more than people, the guy who loves bears more than people, the writer for the New Yorker who goes downhill, moves to Alaska, and loses his ability to be funny. All of these subjects potentially had some form of bipolar illness.
Sorry, Ned. I love the subject but I wanted you to go deeper. On the other hand, you are alot more financially successful than I am so you should not be too upset.
His story is about his career as a journalist and the time where everything comes crashing down. He can not work and, ultimately, checks himself into the Pavillion at MacLean Hospital in Belmont Mass. The Pavillion is the part of MacLean where the wealthy go for psychiatric treatment as one can only pay out of pocket.
Amusingly, he names his therapists pre and post Maclean 1,2, 3, 4, 5, and 6. He talks about his struggles with medication, his love affair with Aderall, and his decision to go for ECT. He begins and ends the book describing his experience with amnesia from ECT.
He is lucky to have close friends who support him through his ordeal. Unfortunately, his romantic relationship is destroyed due to a possible manic? phase induced by ECT perhaps where he starts haunting an old girlfriend, Mimi. Oh, Ned, Ned, Ned. Why did you let the good one go?
He really dises the very celebs who he writes about which I find annoying. Also, the you thing when he is writing about himself. It grates on me. And, (sorry to be so critical) but the glibness...is it a guy thing? I feel like there is a level of pain that should be described but isn't. Or is this just me? For example, when I read Madness by Marya Hornbacher or I Never Promised You a Rose Garden, the old classic by Joanne Greenberg, there was no missing what the main character was going through. The experience was described so clearly.
I feel like Ned, like the magazine he worked for, doesn't want to go to deep.
It's interesting to read about some of the subjects he wrote about: the man who loves penguins more than people, the guy who loves bears more than people, the writer for the New Yorker who goes downhill, moves to Alaska, and loses his ability to be funny. All of these subjects potentially had some form of bipolar illness.
Sorry, Ned. I love the subject but I wanted you to go deeper. On the other hand, you are alot more financially successful than I am so you should not be too upset.
June 17, 2015
I can't say much about this book without sounding personal. The style of writing really put me off. I started the first chapter and then skimmed the rest. I tried...I really did...I just couldn't do it. The whole writing in the second person thing...the cocky attitude...the guy stayed at The Pavilion, for goodness sakes...hardly the experience most have in the hospital. I feel bad writing this review, and maybe others will really like this book, but I just couldn't.
July 12, 2011
I stole this book from a friend who's in publishing. I expected it to be kind of dark and depressing. But although it sometimes gets dark, and can be quite moving, it's certainly not depressing. The thing crackles with wit and is sometimes lol funny. It's a different take on depression -- and one that's much needed. Also quite touching. I think this writer has tapped a nerve here.
August 23, 2011
The Rules of the Tunnel is author Ned Zeman’s story about his “brief period of madness” – otherwise known as his lifelong experience with depression and anxiety disorders seasoned with his stint with electroconvulsive therapy (ECT). A review copy of the book was provided free of charge by LuxuryReading.com.
By all appearances, Ned had it all – he was a writer for Vanity Fair, “work” consisted of dividing his time between fairly glamorous book/magazine parties and celebrity interviews, lived in New York City and Los Angeles-adjacent Canyons, experienced more than his share of the endless party lifestyle with the proverbial triumvirate of wine, women and song. But inside, he was a veritable ocean of insecurity and anxiety. He spent many a day self-medicating, self-therapying, and self-indulging – on top of the many a year of professional medicating and therapying. But what did he have to show for it? Well, a host of articles, a slew of ex-girlfriends, and a rather impressive collection of missing memories. The missing memories are due to the ECT, Zeman’s last-ditch attempt at becoming “normal” – or whatever approximates normal in the modern world.
His story is engaging and often very disjointed – at least it felt that way to me. At first, I thought this was a failing of the author or writing style. As the story progressed, I began to think it was intentional though, an attempt to translate the workings of his head (or, perhaps more aptly, the non-workings) into black and white print as a means of demonstrating what it felt like to live inside that head. If this is true, then Zeman’s head must have been a disturbing and disconcerting place to live – and it’s kind of amazing he was able to live there either.
At times, Zeman is self-indulgent and his story reflects this. He does not make it very easy to like him. It’s hard to tell if this is the anxiety/depression/illness or if he’s just that guy. I guess I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, but honestly, I’m not entirely sure that he warrants it. The end of the book, in which he describes NedWorld after more rounds of ECT than seem imaginable (twenty), brings some resolution and the reclamation of personal relationships. Relationships that were somehow, quite miraculously, not shredded beyond repair in the post-apocalyptic aftermath of the “therapy” he underwent. But even then, even when apologizing and “cleaning up”, I must confess that I found Zeman less than entirely sympathetic. He suffered. I get it (and feel badly for him). But so did everyone around him – and there were a lot of people around him – and I feel badly for them too. People who also underwent tragedy and drama and life-altering events – many of which were inalienably affected by Zeman’s spiral.
The book is no light-hearted romp through mental illness. This isn’t a self-deprecating tale of redemption. It is a slog, difficult to read not because of the writing but because of the subject matter. I don’t know that I learned anything new, other than that Zeman should thank his lucky stars that he was surrounded by the people he was and had the resources at his disposal that he did. Many others with similar affliction have been far less lucky and had to do far more with far less. Maybe, in the end, that is where Zeman occasionally lost me and some of my empathy. He had a tale to tell, and he did. And if it wasn’t pretty to read, well, it certainly sounds like it wasn’t pretty to live either.
Still, he is a professional writer and the book reads well – even when you don’t want to keep going or don’t want to see what he’s trying to say, you can’t help but do so. And in the end, maybe that is enough.
By all appearances, Ned had it all – he was a writer for Vanity Fair, “work” consisted of dividing his time between fairly glamorous book/magazine parties and celebrity interviews, lived in New York City and Los Angeles-adjacent Canyons, experienced more than his share of the endless party lifestyle with the proverbial triumvirate of wine, women and song. But inside, he was a veritable ocean of insecurity and anxiety. He spent many a day self-medicating, self-therapying, and self-indulging – on top of the many a year of professional medicating and therapying. But what did he have to show for it? Well, a host of articles, a slew of ex-girlfriends, and a rather impressive collection of missing memories. The missing memories are due to the ECT, Zeman’s last-ditch attempt at becoming “normal” – or whatever approximates normal in the modern world.
His story is engaging and often very disjointed – at least it felt that way to me. At first, I thought this was a failing of the author or writing style. As the story progressed, I began to think it was intentional though, an attempt to translate the workings of his head (or, perhaps more aptly, the non-workings) into black and white print as a means of demonstrating what it felt like to live inside that head. If this is true, then Zeman’s head must have been a disturbing and disconcerting place to live – and it’s kind of amazing he was able to live there either.
At times, Zeman is self-indulgent and his story reflects this. He does not make it very easy to like him. It’s hard to tell if this is the anxiety/depression/illness or if he’s just that guy. I guess I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, but honestly, I’m not entirely sure that he warrants it. The end of the book, in which he describes NedWorld after more rounds of ECT than seem imaginable (twenty), brings some resolution and the reclamation of personal relationships. Relationships that were somehow, quite miraculously, not shredded beyond repair in the post-apocalyptic aftermath of the “therapy” he underwent. But even then, even when apologizing and “cleaning up”, I must confess that I found Zeman less than entirely sympathetic. He suffered. I get it (and feel badly for him). But so did everyone around him – and there were a lot of people around him – and I feel badly for them too. People who also underwent tragedy and drama and life-altering events – many of which were inalienably affected by Zeman’s spiral.
The book is no light-hearted romp through mental illness. This isn’t a self-deprecating tale of redemption. It is a slog, difficult to read not because of the writing but because of the subject matter. I don’t know that I learned anything new, other than that Zeman should thank his lucky stars that he was surrounded by the people he was and had the resources at his disposal that he did. Many others with similar affliction have been far less lucky and had to do far more with far less. Maybe, in the end, that is where Zeman occasionally lost me and some of my empathy. He had a tale to tell, and he did. And if it wasn’t pretty to read, well, it certainly sounds like it wasn’t pretty to live either.
Still, he is a professional writer and the book reads well – even when you don’t want to keep going or don’t want to see what he’s trying to say, you can’t help but do so. And in the end, maybe that is enough.
August 16, 2011
Who knew that reading a memoir about depression, mania and amnesia could be so much fun? You read about Ned Zeman's descent into madness and begin to feel a bit mad yourself. You wonder if your aren't possibly bipolar. But you don't feel depressed for a moment while reading this manic handbook of his journey through today's mental health system.
Ned Zeman, a long-time writer for Vanity Fair, has that zippy, ironic, right up to the moment style. He knows his territory because that is what reporters do; they find out all there is to know about their topic. Add to that the experiences he has had writing about eccentric adventurers who were about as manic as they come, who pushed all known limits, and who died young in places like Antarctica.
When depression settles in, when the meds can no longer get him out of bed, after therapist one through five fail to help, he goes the distance to "the treatment of last resort." His troubles with electroconvulsive therapy, known back in the 1950s as shock treatment, are the truly creepy part of the story. He was warned about possible temporary short-term amnesia but like everything else in Ned's life, his reaction was over the top. Despite a team of close friends, a devoted girlfriend and two loving brothers, all attempting to keep watch over him between treatments, he races from city to city, from woman to woman and remembers none of it.
Ultimately, he must use his highly honed researching and profiling skills to reconstruct the two years of memory burned out of his brain by those pesky shocks. This is the only part you find hard to believe. If the human mind is capable of solving the problems of the human mind, Ned Zeman is living proof of that hypothesis. In his case, it is a fitting sort of justice. Here is a guy who specialized in evasion, never quite forthcoming with his therapists, his employers, his girlfriends or his friends. Being dangerously self-involved and compulsively self-defeating, he appeared incapable of listening to the common sense advice from any of them.
Still, you can't help liking and admiring this maddening individual. Because he makes life exciting and like many socially challenged artists, he attracts help and care wherever he goes. Lucky for him, because as he documents, most artists and writers who followed the path of meds, therapist, mental wards and shock treatment are no longer with us. Many of them never wrote again after the "treatment of last resort."
If you have suffered from manic depression or bipolar disorder or the inevitable ups and downs of life, Ned Zeman's memoir will make you think twice about taking those meds. He might just keep you out of mental hospitals altogether. The surprising conclusion, which you don't see coming, takes a mere three pages at the very end of the story. You should definitely read those last three pages.
Ned Zeman, a long-time writer for Vanity Fair, has that zippy, ironic, right up to the moment style. He knows his territory because that is what reporters do; they find out all there is to know about their topic. Add to that the experiences he has had writing about eccentric adventurers who were about as manic as they come, who pushed all known limits, and who died young in places like Antarctica.
When depression settles in, when the meds can no longer get him out of bed, after therapist one through five fail to help, he goes the distance to "the treatment of last resort." His troubles with electroconvulsive therapy, known back in the 1950s as shock treatment, are the truly creepy part of the story. He was warned about possible temporary short-term amnesia but like everything else in Ned's life, his reaction was over the top. Despite a team of close friends, a devoted girlfriend and two loving brothers, all attempting to keep watch over him between treatments, he races from city to city, from woman to woman and remembers none of it.
Ultimately, he must use his highly honed researching and profiling skills to reconstruct the two years of memory burned out of his brain by those pesky shocks. This is the only part you find hard to believe. If the human mind is capable of solving the problems of the human mind, Ned Zeman is living proof of that hypothesis. In his case, it is a fitting sort of justice. Here is a guy who specialized in evasion, never quite forthcoming with his therapists, his employers, his girlfriends or his friends. Being dangerously self-involved and compulsively self-defeating, he appeared incapable of listening to the common sense advice from any of them.
Still, you can't help liking and admiring this maddening individual. Because he makes life exciting and like many socially challenged artists, he attracts help and care wherever he goes. Lucky for him, because as he documents, most artists and writers who followed the path of meds, therapist, mental wards and shock treatment are no longer with us. Many of them never wrote again after the "treatment of last resort."
If you have suffered from manic depression or bipolar disorder or the inevitable ups and downs of life, Ned Zeman's memoir will make you think twice about taking those meds. He might just keep you out of mental hospitals altogether. The surprising conclusion, which you don't see coming, takes a mere three pages at the very end of the story. You should definitely read those last three pages.
July 14, 2012
I've never been shy about talking about my own struggles with depression and several people around me suffer from varying degrees of mental illness, so I am not a stranger to a lot of the things talked about in this book. I will also say that I found myself shaking my head and laughing because it's so damn honest, at the same time feeling bad that I'm laughing at a person's situation.
Did I learn anything from this book? Absolutely. I learned that medication is scary, deceitful and it doesn't always work. I learned that people get desperate to just be normal and function and it leads them to look at even scarier options. It also made me feel more compassionate towards those in my life who suffer from mood disorders because they truly can't help it. And that's really the thing, isn't it? Unless you are among one of the millions of people who suffer with a mental illness, you truly can't know how difficult it is to just get through the day.
Admittedly, this book was a bit difficult for me to get into at the beginning. Mostly because I was confused as to how the people he profiled for Vanity Fair had anything to do with his clinical depression. But once he got into the meat of his illness, the therapies that didn't work, and ultimately the nightmare of having to fight against amnesia after shock theapy I was instantly hooked. Because it's one thing to be suffering with an illness like this, but it's quite another to have no recollection of your life leading up to the shock therapy, then having amnesia. He is essentially playing "This Is Your Life" but he doesn't remember it but knows it can't be good, and he's having to re-live all of the bad things again.
How many people would say "sign me up" knowing that? I know I wouldn't, that's for sure. But it's that kind of thing that makes you feel sympathetic towards his desperation.
So all in all, I liked this book because I could identify it. But it's a great book for anyone to read because we all know someone who suffers from a mood disorder, mental illness, etc or at least has some of the symptoms. It's educational if nothing else.
Did I learn anything from this book? Absolutely. I learned that medication is scary, deceitful and it doesn't always work. I learned that people get desperate to just be normal and function and it leads them to look at even scarier options. It also made me feel more compassionate towards those in my life who suffer from mood disorders because they truly can't help it. And that's really the thing, isn't it? Unless you are among one of the millions of people who suffer with a mental illness, you truly can't know how difficult it is to just get through the day.
Admittedly, this book was a bit difficult for me to get into at the beginning. Mostly because I was confused as to how the people he profiled for Vanity Fair had anything to do with his clinical depression. But once he got into the meat of his illness, the therapies that didn't work, and ultimately the nightmare of having to fight against amnesia after shock theapy I was instantly hooked. Because it's one thing to be suffering with an illness like this, but it's quite another to have no recollection of your life leading up to the shock therapy, then having amnesia. He is essentially playing "This Is Your Life" but he doesn't remember it but knows it can't be good, and he's having to re-live all of the bad things again.
How many people would say "sign me up" knowing that? I know I wouldn't, that's for sure. But it's that kind of thing that makes you feel sympathetic towards his desperation.
So all in all, I liked this book because I could identify it. But it's a great book for anyone to read because we all know someone who suffers from a mood disorder, mental illness, etc or at least has some of the symptoms. It's educational if nothing else.
August 14, 2011
First of all, I am so grateful to Ned Zeman and his publishing house, Gotham Books for allowing me to read this fascinating novel as a "First-Read." here on Goodreads.
This novel is an exploration of a time in the Author's life. The book begins with a stunning prologue that honestly made me feel uncomfortable. This was excellent, as I was, most likely, experiencing exactly what Mr. Zeman had been experiencing. The terrifying downward spiral into clinical depression.
Mr. Zeman employs the use of "You" vs "I" which is again painfully honest and also makes the book a compelling read. For. as the reader quickly learns, amnesia erases certain events and periods of time but leaves you with basic learned skills. An Amnesiac is one who will say 'You' because he/she is trying to fill in the missing data with written notes, related verbal tales, and guessing. The amnesiac is looking from a point of observation at his own life. That period of madness happened to almost someone else, as he just can't remember. Mr. Zeman is a reporter in life and in writing. It is that simple, yet that complex.
To guide us along in his quest to find health, he explains his trials through various journalistic articles he followed and wrote about. There are four main stories with the common trait that the subject of the articles was perhaps...depressed.
This book artfully used alternating layers of clinical studies of depression, and then biographical accounts of the life of Ned Zeman. It was written with force, honesty, compassion, and fear, with humor.
I finished reading with a sense of better understanding the complexity of Manic-Depression or Bi-Polar Illness. I hope that this book has made me a better person, so that if I recognize the signs in a friend, I will ask "How are you?" in the correct inference.
Thank you, Mr. Zeman for your courage in telling your journey and awakening the public. I wish you continued health.
This novel is an exploration of a time in the Author's life. The book begins with a stunning prologue that honestly made me feel uncomfortable. This was excellent, as I was, most likely, experiencing exactly what Mr. Zeman had been experiencing. The terrifying downward spiral into clinical depression.
Mr. Zeman employs the use of "You" vs "I" which is again painfully honest and also makes the book a compelling read. For. as the reader quickly learns, amnesia erases certain events and periods of time but leaves you with basic learned skills. An Amnesiac is one who will say 'You' because he/she is trying to fill in the missing data with written notes, related verbal tales, and guessing. The amnesiac is looking from a point of observation at his own life. That period of madness happened to almost someone else, as he just can't remember. Mr. Zeman is a reporter in life and in writing. It is that simple, yet that complex.
To guide us along in his quest to find health, he explains his trials through various journalistic articles he followed and wrote about. There are four main stories with the common trait that the subject of the articles was perhaps...depressed.
This book artfully used alternating layers of clinical studies of depression, and then biographical accounts of the life of Ned Zeman. It was written with force, honesty, compassion, and fear, with humor.
I finished reading with a sense of better understanding the complexity of Manic-Depression or Bi-Polar Illness. I hope that this book has made me a better person, so that if I recognize the signs in a friend, I will ask "How are you?" in the correct inference.
Thank you, Mr. Zeman for your courage in telling your journey and awakening the public. I wish you continued health.
September 6, 2016
Thanks to goodreads First Reads for my free copy of The Rules of the Tunnel.
Others here have already reviewed the plot pretty extensively - in a nutshell, writer and reporter suffers from depression, medications fail to provide continued help, and after resorting to ECT, finds that he's lost two years of memories.
With that in mind, I think Zeman does an excellent job of portraying how scattered and disorientating his life was during this time. As the reader you're never 100% certain of what he's telling you or how it all fits together, and it really puts you in his shoes. The style is effective, but occasionally frustrating for those of us going, "yes, but what really happened?" That's not the point though, and looking back after finishing his story, I respect that more than did 50 pages in.
Honestly my biggest complaint is the number of typos in this book. This was not an uncorrected ARC, but the actual first edition, and the number of errors really surprised me.
Others here have already reviewed the plot pretty extensively - in a nutshell, writer and reporter suffers from depression, medications fail to provide continued help, and after resorting to ECT, finds that he's lost two years of memories.
With that in mind, I think Zeman does an excellent job of portraying how scattered and disorientating his life was during this time. As the reader you're never 100% certain of what he's telling you or how it all fits together, and it really puts you in his shoes. The style is effective, but occasionally frustrating for those of us going, "yes, but what really happened?" That's not the point though, and looking back after finishing his story, I respect that more than did 50 pages in.
Honestly my biggest complaint is the number of typos in this book. This was not an uncorrected ARC, but the actual first edition, and the number of errors really surprised me.
August 21, 2015
Oddly, I think Zeman sums it up best (via his therapist's words, anyway): "'Look, you understand yourself. You know the story. But, honestly, I've never met someone who understands himself with such detachment.'" (p. 190)
His writing is unquestionably strong. It's a complex story, and he has the technical skills to carry it off. Where the book loses me, though, is in the voice. He is so detached -- when talking about himself, when talking about others -- that it is hard to connect with him and, to an extent, undermines the seriousness of what he was going through. It is clear more from the persistence of his friends than from his own comments that here is somebody worth caring about.
It is interesting, though, to read about the people Zeman profiled; his obsessive nature comes through and gives more meaning to his own struggles. I'm not sure if he needed to zoom in closer on himself or zoom back out, but even without a particular attachment to this book, I'd call it one worth reading.
I received a free copy of this book via a Goodreads giveaway.
His writing is unquestionably strong. It's a complex story, and he has the technical skills to carry it off. Where the book loses me, though, is in the voice. He is so detached -- when talking about himself, when talking about others -- that it is hard to connect with him and, to an extent, undermines the seriousness of what he was going through. It is clear more from the persistence of his friends than from his own comments that here is somebody worth caring about.
It is interesting, though, to read about the people Zeman profiled; his obsessive nature comes through and gives more meaning to his own struggles. I'm not sure if he needed to zoom in closer on himself or zoom back out, but even without a particular attachment to this book, I'd call it one worth reading.
I received a free copy of this book via a Goodreads giveaway.
August 18, 2011
I enjoyed this book. The second person perspective was interesting - and I kept looking for a spot where the perspective changed, but I never did. The pace was reflective of the mood presented which is nice. And the switching between stories kept it moving at a fast pace. I'm not sure that the two page summation at the end really is effective - but as it was brief I wont complain too much. I would definitely recommend this read.
October 20, 2011
This captured my interest immediately as Zeman describes dealing with his amnesia induced by ECT (electroconvulsive therapy) which may or may not be temporary. The following description of his descent into mental illness elicits empathy, but is messy and disjointed. He refers to himself as "you" throughout which is disconcerting--maybe he hasn't worked through to ownership of this period in his life.
October 28, 2011
Very good memoir. I always enjoy learning of lives outside my realm of experience, and this one did well to remind me of the ones who can't cope. Where emotion is not balanced by rational. I found myself sympathizing with the author and his friends while they dealt with his problems. Also enjoyed how he left things unsaid and thus hinted at as to his behavior. I would recommend this to friends. Only fell short of five stars because it didn't blow me away, and should have gone deeper.
September 21, 2011
Based on the reviews I'd read, I thought I would love this, but instead found it a rather self-absorbed rambling bit of a mess. I have boatloads of compassion for anyone suffering from mental illness, but Ned Zeman neither triggered mine nor did he show much for his friends and family who joined him on his descent.
July 8, 2012
not the best. he obviously thinks very highly of himself. not worth the read.
December 8, 2012
The use of "you"instead of "I" really bothered me. And the writing seemed manic, like he was cycling at the time.
September 12, 2012
“Mental Illness in Action”
The dust jacket of Ned Zeman’s “Rules of The Tunnel: My Brief Period of Madness” describes him as a successful Vanity Fair writer “suddenly” debilitated by depression and anxiety requiring electro-shock treatment with resulting memory loss. While entertaining, Rules of the Tunnel is actually a narcissistic romp through the mind of a man who will likely be in the headlines, a victim of the same manic early death he wrote about in the profiles he identified with too heavily. Rules of the Tunnel is not so much of an investigation into mental illness and its aftermath as it is about building the author into a character worthy of a screenplay (in his eyes).
Zeman begins the prologue: “Not so long ago, in the heyday of your idiocy, you made yourself a promise. That you can no longer remember making this promise, nor anything about it – aside from a yellow sticky note reading “Remember Promise!” fills you with the warm glow of achievement. You lived, if only briefly, among the Great Amnesiacs. And you did live well. Reportedly” (1). This foreshadowing tells that this will be an investigation into what he doesn’t not remember. “The heart remembers what the mind forgets” (8) further emphasizes this exploration into forgotten territory.
Written entirely in second person, the reader is immediately grabbed with Zehamn’s insistent voice telling you what you experienced having amnesia as a side effect of shock therapy. The use of second person make it seem as if the author wants you to be in the story intimately to better understand “sudden” depression and “madness”. Unfortunately, both the foreshadowing of recovering his lost memories and the use of second person for a first-hand experience of madness are both misassumptions of this work.
Part One details Zeman’s “sanity” and slip into mental illness. However the reader is left wondering why his “madness” is referred to as “sudden”: “Long ago, during your lone visit to a child psychologist, the doctor noted in you a “heightened sensitivity” to among many other things, “external stimuli”. Bright light. Loud noise.” (30). Even as an adult, he has bouts of mania that should have been an indicator of a continuing problem: “Everything, at this point, was an anvil on top of a piano…By month six, your hands were trembling around the clock…you kept up appearances as best you could – you were gifted that way”(33).
The reader sees the solid indicators of questionable sanity during research for a Vanity Fair spread on penguin researcher Bruno Zehdner who died of exposure in Antarctica. Despite that Zeman seems himself as an impassioned writer-hero, we wonder about the level of intensity he devotes to his research and his strong identification with a characteristics of a disturbed man: “Boyish. High strung. Friendly but detached. Single minded. Easily bored. Adrenaline junkie. Kept his distance. Limited interest in social interactions. Lived in his own head”(52). Zeman even bizarrely states that no one really understood Bruno the way he does: “Bruno was a little out there. A little…unconventional. But so was every other adventurer and explorer you’d ever hear of…Every time someone said “yeah, well, the guy was obviously out of his fucking mind”, you resisted the urge to Taser them – only you were allowed to criticize Bruno, because only you understood his dark magic” (60).
This is only the first indicator that Zeman too intimately identifies with the objects of his research. He loses himself in the process of his research, glorifying his subjects’ obsessions that ultimately were responsible for their deaths. Following Bruno he researches Jay Moloney, a Hollywood agent wonder-boy whose drug addiction and depression landed him in rehab and a mental hospital. Nearly immediately, Zeman checks himself has his first visit to a mental hospital for a “rest” (ironically the exact same language Susan Kaysen, author of Girl, Interrupted, says was used to get her into therapy at McLean hospital, a place he later checks himself into). There are no details of this first visit, and when he is released a week later he possesses a prescription for Adderall he swallows like candy.
Next he asks to profile Tim Treadwell, the self-taught “bear expert” who was mauled to death (on video) by the very bears he was living with in the Alsakan wilds. Zeman flew off to find bears, visits the scene of Treadwell’s death, and forages for pieces of clothing and bone that still litter the ground. Part Two shifts gears abruptly following his return when he checks into The Pavilion at McLean Hospital, a famous mental hospital/drug and alcohol rehab program. “McLean was where unwell writers went to become Eccentric Geniuses…Think Lowell and Fitzgerald. Sexton and Plath. David Foster Wallace and Greorge W.S. Trow” (190). He states this cheerfully, as if discussing eating at a restaurant in which famous people have dined. McLean was not a convenient hospital (located in Boston, Zeman lived in LA), nor was it the best treatment program. It required a huge, upfront cash payment ($40,000) instead of accepting his insurance (very good coverage by his admittance). Zeman clearly wanted to be associated with the place that had treated the “eccentric geniuses”. Following testing, when Electroshock Therapy is mentioned as an option, he requests it despite other available less invasive treatment options (he does not participate in any talk therapy). As the treatment of famous people (the writers Hemmingway, Plath included - he makes a list), he eventually has more than double the amount of normal sessions. No wonder he had memory loss.
“You are an amnesiac. A person with impaired memory…You are a reporter…The Amnesiac Reporter…First reaction? Script idea. High concept. Suits eat that shit up”(163). This singular tongue in cheek statement is the most honest and self-reflective Zeman is throughout the entire memoir. His mental issues are played out here as like fodder for a movie about himself. The entire presentation of the book is a smoke screen to get you to read about him - a highly sensationalistic view, similar to the stories he wrote in Vanity Fair about other brilliant, narcissistic and sick individuals.
Zeman never unravels his lost two years of memories as implied in on the dust jacket and in the prologue. In fact, only the last 60 pages or so of the 300+ take place following the first treatment or deal with investigating his lost memories. What he chooses to write abou t instead are his “glory days” as a writer. He writes in second person not to get the reader involved, but to tell himself his own story. In Rules of the Tunnel he creates himself as a character, and does not investigate anything about the inner workings of the character. Perhaps this is a result of his apparent lack of mental stability, but even his own investigative writing experience should have leant depth. Rules of the Tunnel reads an exploration into the person the writer wants to be seen as instead of who he is. This is a detailed telling of mental illness in action and the reader is left worried for the writer’s future. This is no “sudden” decent into madness that the narrator has immerged from - he is clearly still invested in the “cool factor” of being a “crazy” writer. Zeman’s lack of willingness/ability to reflect on his actions and his inability to see his how his own obsessions have manipulated him even given the distance of time, made this a deceptive, irritating waste of time.
The dust jacket of Ned Zeman’s “Rules of The Tunnel: My Brief Period of Madness” describes him as a successful Vanity Fair writer “suddenly” debilitated by depression and anxiety requiring electro-shock treatment with resulting memory loss. While entertaining, Rules of the Tunnel is actually a narcissistic romp through the mind of a man who will likely be in the headlines, a victim of the same manic early death he wrote about in the profiles he identified with too heavily. Rules of the Tunnel is not so much of an investigation into mental illness and its aftermath as it is about building the author into a character worthy of a screenplay (in his eyes).
Zeman begins the prologue: “Not so long ago, in the heyday of your idiocy, you made yourself a promise. That you can no longer remember making this promise, nor anything about it – aside from a yellow sticky note reading “Remember Promise!” fills you with the warm glow of achievement. You lived, if only briefly, among the Great Amnesiacs. And you did live well. Reportedly” (1). This foreshadowing tells that this will be an investigation into what he doesn’t not remember. “The heart remembers what the mind forgets” (8) further emphasizes this exploration into forgotten territory.
Written entirely in second person, the reader is immediately grabbed with Zehamn’s insistent voice telling you what you experienced having amnesia as a side effect of shock therapy. The use of second person make it seem as if the author wants you to be in the story intimately to better understand “sudden” depression and “madness”. Unfortunately, both the foreshadowing of recovering his lost memories and the use of second person for a first-hand experience of madness are both misassumptions of this work.
Part One details Zeman’s “sanity” and slip into mental illness. However the reader is left wondering why his “madness” is referred to as “sudden”: “Long ago, during your lone visit to a child psychologist, the doctor noted in you a “heightened sensitivity” to among many other things, “external stimuli”. Bright light. Loud noise.” (30). Even as an adult, he has bouts of mania that should have been an indicator of a continuing problem: “Everything, at this point, was an anvil on top of a piano…By month six, your hands were trembling around the clock…you kept up appearances as best you could – you were gifted that way”(33).
The reader sees the solid indicators of questionable sanity during research for a Vanity Fair spread on penguin researcher Bruno Zehdner who died of exposure in Antarctica. Despite that Zeman seems himself as an impassioned writer-hero, we wonder about the level of intensity he devotes to his research and his strong identification with a characteristics of a disturbed man: “Boyish. High strung. Friendly but detached. Single minded. Easily bored. Adrenaline junkie. Kept his distance. Limited interest in social interactions. Lived in his own head”(52). Zeman even bizarrely states that no one really understood Bruno the way he does: “Bruno was a little out there. A little…unconventional. But so was every other adventurer and explorer you’d ever hear of…Every time someone said “yeah, well, the guy was obviously out of his fucking mind”, you resisted the urge to Taser them – only you were allowed to criticize Bruno, because only you understood his dark magic” (60).
This is only the first indicator that Zeman too intimately identifies with the objects of his research. He loses himself in the process of his research, glorifying his subjects’ obsessions that ultimately were responsible for their deaths. Following Bruno he researches Jay Moloney, a Hollywood agent wonder-boy whose drug addiction and depression landed him in rehab and a mental hospital. Nearly immediately, Zeman checks himself has his first visit to a mental hospital for a “rest” (ironically the exact same language Susan Kaysen, author of Girl, Interrupted, says was used to get her into therapy at McLean hospital, a place he later checks himself into). There are no details of this first visit, and when he is released a week later he possesses a prescription for Adderall he swallows like candy.
Next he asks to profile Tim Treadwell, the self-taught “bear expert” who was mauled to death (on video) by the very bears he was living with in the Alsakan wilds. Zeman flew off to find bears, visits the scene of Treadwell’s death, and forages for pieces of clothing and bone that still litter the ground. Part Two shifts gears abruptly following his return when he checks into The Pavilion at McLean Hospital, a famous mental hospital/drug and alcohol rehab program. “McLean was where unwell writers went to become Eccentric Geniuses…Think Lowell and Fitzgerald. Sexton and Plath. David Foster Wallace and Greorge W.S. Trow” (190). He states this cheerfully, as if discussing eating at a restaurant in which famous people have dined. McLean was not a convenient hospital (located in Boston, Zeman lived in LA), nor was it the best treatment program. It required a huge, upfront cash payment ($40,000) instead of accepting his insurance (very good coverage by his admittance). Zeman clearly wanted to be associated with the place that had treated the “eccentric geniuses”. Following testing, when Electroshock Therapy is mentioned as an option, he requests it despite other available less invasive treatment options (he does not participate in any talk therapy). As the treatment of famous people (the writers Hemmingway, Plath included - he makes a list), he eventually has more than double the amount of normal sessions. No wonder he had memory loss.
“You are an amnesiac. A person with impaired memory…You are a reporter…The Amnesiac Reporter…First reaction? Script idea. High concept. Suits eat that shit up”(163). This singular tongue in cheek statement is the most honest and self-reflective Zeman is throughout the entire memoir. His mental issues are played out here as like fodder for a movie about himself. The entire presentation of the book is a smoke screen to get you to read about him - a highly sensationalistic view, similar to the stories he wrote in Vanity Fair about other brilliant, narcissistic and sick individuals.
Zeman never unravels his lost two years of memories as implied in on the dust jacket and in the prologue. In fact, only the last 60 pages or so of the 300+ take place following the first treatment or deal with investigating his lost memories. What he chooses to write abou t instead are his “glory days” as a writer. He writes in second person not to get the reader involved, but to tell himself his own story. In Rules of the Tunnel he creates himself as a character, and does not investigate anything about the inner workings of the character. Perhaps this is a result of his apparent lack of mental stability, but even his own investigative writing experience should have leant depth. Rules of the Tunnel reads an exploration into the person the writer wants to be seen as instead of who he is. This is a detailed telling of mental illness in action and the reader is left worried for the writer’s future. This is no “sudden” decent into madness that the narrator has immerged from - he is clearly still invested in the “cool factor” of being a “crazy” writer. Zeman’s lack of willingness/ability to reflect on his actions and his inability to see his how his own obsessions have manipulated him even given the distance of time, made this a deceptive, irritating waste of time.
October 6, 2011
I suppose the oddest thing about this book is the way Zeman seems to have a collection of friends who would have done anything short of killing themselves to help him. For the life of me I couldn't figure out why, and to his credit it seems he often felt the same way.
To my mind the narrative didn't really hang together particularly well, but that was more than offset by the stories he had to tell, and how he told them. I suppose the jump from the magazine world to authoring a book meant interesting blocs of 20 to 50 pages is something he is more than capable of, but that often the connection between the next bloc and what had preceded it was tenuous at best. Or so it seemed to me. But, again, yes, it is a flaw in the work, but hardly a fatal one.
To get up on a soap box for a moment, I think Zeman downplayed how the use of drugs, as in illegal, or legal (alcohol) and certain forms of prescription drugs can be a very ugly thing. In any event, Zeman is rather lucky he didn't go through his "brief period of madness" at any point from 1970 through 1990 or so. During that time he'd likely have been prescribed some form of Tricyclic drug (Elavil, etc.) and Tricyclics and alcohol most emphatically do NOT play well together. Or perhaps they play too well together? In the sense that there's a "synergistic" effect that you can google about if you really give a hoot. Fortunately for him, as a class tricyclics are almost never seen in the USA today, though I believe they're still used overseas and in Canada. And the SSRIs, SNRIs, etc., are far more benign across the board, even when mixed with things the label say they shouldn't be. Still a risk there, but a much lower one. (Personal opinion. Also personal opinion that the warning labels on prescription drugs are overdone. Same label, same warning, even if the risk is remote for one and a distinct possibility with another. Lawsuits, doubtless, but I think what is ultimately bred is a sense that the risk is remote or at least overstated in ALL cases.)
Oops. Sorry about that. The soapbox bit was obviously more than a "moment," and meandered wildly away from the book. My bad.
I suppose what surprised me the most about the entire work is how little of it was spent on the ECT itself, and that no clear sense of whether it was a net positive or net negative is explicitly stated. I think Zeman does grudgingly admit that it helped, does note that his amnesia is atypical, but that it also turned him into something of a monster, cyberstalking an old girlfriend, cheating on the one he was living with, telling a lie to cover some forgotten memory or reprehensible bit of behavior almost each time he opened his mouth, and so on. But this was all in roughly the last 50 pages or so. Before that it was mostly about his career, his family, maybe with some stormclouds on the horizon. He also rather curiously understated or perhaps ignored the time commitment ECT requires. If you get your eggs scrambled 20 to 30 times, you're no use the day of the treatment and not much better the day after. It worked for him, since he was relatively wealthy, had a job where he did not have to be at a desk each day by 8 AM, and had a support network of people who would chauffer him there and back once he switched to out-patient status.
Full disclosure: I was actually evaluated at McLean's for ECT, and was rejected. I should write about that whole thing sometime, since it still pisses me off. But where Zeman went to the Pavilion (which I never knew existed until I read this book), I assure you what I saw was definitely Peonville. Or a cross between Dante's Inferno and Monty Python. And it wasn't getting rejected that pissed me off, it was the way I was treated and the way the place was run. But that's another story for another time.
To my mind the narrative didn't really hang together particularly well, but that was more than offset by the stories he had to tell, and how he told them. I suppose the jump from the magazine world to authoring a book meant interesting blocs of 20 to 50 pages is something he is more than capable of, but that often the connection between the next bloc and what had preceded it was tenuous at best. Or so it seemed to me. But, again, yes, it is a flaw in the work, but hardly a fatal one.
To get up on a soap box for a moment, I think Zeman downplayed how the use of drugs, as in illegal, or legal (alcohol) and certain forms of prescription drugs can be a very ugly thing. In any event, Zeman is rather lucky he didn't go through his "brief period of madness" at any point from 1970 through 1990 or so. During that time he'd likely have been prescribed some form of Tricyclic drug (Elavil, etc.) and Tricyclics and alcohol most emphatically do NOT play well together. Or perhaps they play too well together? In the sense that there's a "synergistic" effect that you can google about if you really give a hoot. Fortunately for him, as a class tricyclics are almost never seen in the USA today, though I believe they're still used overseas and in Canada. And the SSRIs, SNRIs, etc., are far more benign across the board, even when mixed with things the label say they shouldn't be. Still a risk there, but a much lower one. (Personal opinion. Also personal opinion that the warning labels on prescription drugs are overdone. Same label, same warning, even if the risk is remote for one and a distinct possibility with another. Lawsuits, doubtless, but I think what is ultimately bred is a sense that the risk is remote or at least overstated in ALL cases.)
Oops. Sorry about that. The soapbox bit was obviously more than a "moment," and meandered wildly away from the book. My bad.
I suppose what surprised me the most about the entire work is how little of it was spent on the ECT itself, and that no clear sense of whether it was a net positive or net negative is explicitly stated. I think Zeman does grudgingly admit that it helped, does note that his amnesia is atypical, but that it also turned him into something of a monster, cyberstalking an old girlfriend, cheating on the one he was living with, telling a lie to cover some forgotten memory or reprehensible bit of behavior almost each time he opened his mouth, and so on. But this was all in roughly the last 50 pages or so. Before that it was mostly about his career, his family, maybe with some stormclouds on the horizon. He also rather curiously understated or perhaps ignored the time commitment ECT requires. If you get your eggs scrambled 20 to 30 times, you're no use the day of the treatment and not much better the day after. It worked for him, since he was relatively wealthy, had a job where he did not have to be at a desk each day by 8 AM, and had a support network of people who would chauffer him there and back once he switched to out-patient status.
Full disclosure: I was actually evaluated at McLean's for ECT, and was rejected. I should write about that whole thing sometime, since it still pisses me off. But where Zeman went to the Pavilion (which I never knew existed until I read this book), I assure you what I saw was definitely Peonville. Or a cross between Dante's Inferno and Monty Python. And it wasn't getting rejected that pissed me off, it was the way I was treated and the way the place was run. But that's another story for another time.
September 1, 2011
Ned Zeman had it all. A lucrative career as writer and editor at Vanity Fair, great friends and what would appear to be a great life. But he suffered from depression and anxiety and it took over his life. In The Rules of the Tunnel: My Brief Period of Madness, Zeman takes us into his mind, letting us glimpse what it might be like to suffer as he has.
As a writer and editor, I found interest in Zeman's descriptions of his work, the processes and relationships between writers and editors. He tells detailed stories of people he researched and wrote about who were fascinating adventurers who seemed to also suffer from depression. These stories were quite interesting and offered more examples of what it's like to deal with depression.
But I found the stream-of-consciousness style of writing and the author's use of the second person very difficult to read. I realize he employed these tactics for literary and artistic reasons. Logically, they make sense. After all, if you have amnesia, it's hard to speak in the first person about things you don't remember. But my brain doesn't process this rambling type of prose well. I had a hard time following along and feeling engaged in his story. I found myself reading several pages and realizing I didn't know what just happened. It jumped around a lot and I just couldn't focus on what I was reading.
Ned Zeman's overall story of trying various therapists and medications, and eventually getting shock therapy, which caused amnesia, was fascinating. And I'm sure many readers would get much more out of it than I did ~ as is evidenced by several great reviews from the bloggers listed below. For me, it was just okay.
As a writer and editor, I found interest in Zeman's descriptions of his work, the processes and relationships between writers and editors. He tells detailed stories of people he researched and wrote about who were fascinating adventurers who seemed to also suffer from depression. These stories were quite interesting and offered more examples of what it's like to deal with depression.
But I found the stream-of-consciousness style of writing and the author's use of the second person very difficult to read. I realize he employed these tactics for literary and artistic reasons. Logically, they make sense. After all, if you have amnesia, it's hard to speak in the first person about things you don't remember. But my brain doesn't process this rambling type of prose well. I had a hard time following along and feeling engaged in his story. I found myself reading several pages and realizing I didn't know what just happened. It jumped around a lot and I just couldn't focus on what I was reading.
Ned Zeman's overall story of trying various therapists and medications, and eventually getting shock therapy, which caused amnesia, was fascinating. And I'm sure many readers would get much more out of it than I did ~ as is evidenced by several great reviews from the bloggers listed below. For me, it was just okay.
May 7, 2014
I kind of skimmed the end because I was sort of done with the book 7/8 in. Hell, I was done with the book halfway in but pursued it anyways. Part of it is because I have my own mental illnesses and it's nice sometimes to read someone else's problems and see or not see myself in them. I like the idea of being able to access this kind of experience without going out into the world and trying to awkwardly wrangle it from another human being.
That being said, I couldn't stand this guy. He was privileged, obnoxious, and in some ways, too much like me (mostly the anxious ways). If they're too much like me in any way, I kind of can't handle it (ironic that I seek them out for similarities in the first place). There was one line in the book that really pissed me off (his mom being a snob about community college) but he, as a person, was exhausting.
I was definitely more endeared to his subjects than I was to him.
He's very fortunate to have a network of friends that would put up with that much bullshit. And I hated his shitty attitude about bipolar disorder. Get the fuck over it, dude. And stop calling people with bipolar disorder different variations of the word "freak". I don't care how self-deprecating you are or if you feel entitled to speak that way because you have it- it's offensive as hell.
That being said, I couldn't stand this guy. He was privileged, obnoxious, and in some ways, too much like me (mostly the anxious ways). If they're too much like me in any way, I kind of can't handle it (ironic that I seek them out for similarities in the first place). There was one line in the book that really pissed me off (his mom being a snob about community college) but he, as a person, was exhausting.
I was definitely more endeared to his subjects than I was to him.
He's very fortunate to have a network of friends that would put up with that much bullshit. And I hated his shitty attitude about bipolar disorder. Get the fuck over it, dude. And stop calling people with bipolar disorder different variations of the word "freak". I don't care how self-deprecating you are or if you feel entitled to speak that way because you have it- it's offensive as hell.
May 27, 2014
This book is for anyone who has ever struggled with mood disorders or have watched friends/family members suffer through them.
Zeman succinctly describes so many parts of the process so honestly and clearly that, even if you haven't lived through it (an EPISODE), you feel as if you have: the horrific side effects of the brain chemical changing cocktails, the humiliating behavior that occurs during mania which alienates your support network and brings into your life exactly the wrong people, the inability to communicate with those closest to you or the over-communicating- both of which drive people away and ruin relationships, the never-ending dance with ridiculous mental health professionals and facilities (esp the single phone in an exposed position in a ward full of crazy people- zero privacy), the soul-gutting return to normal life after the euphoric high of mania, the heartbreaking attempts to put your life back on track after your own brain has been inappropriately creating every perception that you've had for the last "insert an amount" months/years. Zeman even delved into the world of ECT in an attempt to normalize his life and it only served to make things so much worse for him... terrifying.
The Rules of the Tunnel was a haunting and disturbing memoir but wonderful.
Zeman succinctly describes so many parts of the process so honestly and clearly that, even if you haven't lived through it (an EPISODE), you feel as if you have: the horrific side effects of the brain chemical changing cocktails, the humiliating behavior that occurs during mania which alienates your support network and brings into your life exactly the wrong people, the inability to communicate with those closest to you or the over-communicating- both of which drive people away and ruin relationships, the never-ending dance with ridiculous mental health professionals and facilities (esp the single phone in an exposed position in a ward full of crazy people- zero privacy), the soul-gutting return to normal life after the euphoric high of mania, the heartbreaking attempts to put your life back on track after your own brain has been inappropriately creating every perception that you've had for the last "insert an amount" months/years. Zeman even delved into the world of ECT in an attempt to normalize his life and it only served to make things so much worse for him... terrifying.
The Rules of the Tunnel was a haunting and disturbing memoir but wonderful.
June 13, 2011
"The Rules of the Tunnel" by Ned Zeman
Vanity Fair magazine contributor Ned Zeman's memoir of battling mental illness
is funny as well as harrowing. After years of therapy and medication fail to
lift his mood enough to function well as a writer, he opts for he last resort,
ECT (electroconvulsive therapy), recommended by doctors after he checks himself
into the infamous McLean Hospital (Sylvia Plath, William Styron and John Nash
being 'graduates' of that institution).
Despite mild warnings of side effects including temporary amnesia, he is
excited to give it a try, maybe this will be the solution to his sleeping all
the time/not sleeping at all, and persistent thoughts of death. Though his ECT
doctor explained that the possible amnesia is temporary in nearly all cases, in
Mr. Zeman's it appears it was not. His life is a series of post-it notes
'Remember-Amnesia!', and loving friends who read and monitor his emails in an
effort to keep him safe from himself.
At times hysterically funny, readers at all touched by depressive/bi-polar
disorder will find it eerily familiar. Mr. Zeman is to be lauded for his honest
portrayal of mental illness as well as his razor-sharp wit and literary talent.
Vanity Fair magazine contributor Ned Zeman's memoir of battling mental illness
is funny as well as harrowing. After years of therapy and medication fail to
lift his mood enough to function well as a writer, he opts for he last resort,
ECT (electroconvulsive therapy), recommended by doctors after he checks himself
into the infamous McLean Hospital (Sylvia Plath, William Styron and John Nash
being 'graduates' of that institution).
Despite mild warnings of side effects including temporary amnesia, he is
excited to give it a try, maybe this will be the solution to his sleeping all
the time/not sleeping at all, and persistent thoughts of death. Though his ECT
doctor explained that the possible amnesia is temporary in nearly all cases, in
Mr. Zeman's it appears it was not. His life is a series of post-it notes
'Remember-Amnesia!', and loving friends who read and monitor his emails in an
effort to keep him safe from himself.
At times hysterically funny, readers at all touched by depressive/bi-polar
disorder will find it eerily familiar. Mr. Zeman is to be lauded for his honest
portrayal of mental illness as well as his razor-sharp wit and literary talent.
October 2, 2011
I received this book for free through First Reads. I was very excited to read this book and it did not disappoint. While hard to follow at times, it seemed extremely accurate for what the author must have been experiencing at that time. I admire anyone who lives with mental illness amd is willing to share their story. I feel for the author and the struggles he endured due to his mental illness. He was fortunate enough to have wonderful supports and the financial meams to receive treatments that are not available to much of the population with similar struggles. I think the book brings to light the reality of mental illness and that it does not discriminate in who suffers from it. I thought Ned did a wonderful job portaying his own struggles and I would recommend this book.
Read
August 27, 2011I was excited to find out I had won this book on Goodreads, but disappointed when I sat down to read it. I found this book very difficult to follow. It was not well written and the author left me feeling confused and at a loss as to where he was going.
It is the true story of a Vanity Fair writer who descended into hell because of his depression and of his struggle to climb out of the hole caused by the depression and the amensia whic resulted from the electro-shock therapy he chose to undergo.
His writing style made me feel like I was running a race, trying to keep up. He over medicated his story with details.
If this is what a descent into hell is then he done a good job of portraying it, as he left this read feeling lost in a sea of words.
It is the true story of a Vanity Fair writer who descended into hell because of his depression and of his struggle to climb out of the hole caused by the depression and the amensia whic resulted from the electro-shock therapy he chose to undergo.
His writing style made me feel like I was running a race, trying to keep up. He over medicated his story with details.
If this is what a descent into hell is then he done a good job of portraying it, as he left this read feeling lost in a sea of words.
February 7, 2012
Hey - it was pretty funny being inside Ned's Head (almost like Being Ned Zeman). I was impressed how his inner conversations could keep me entertained, and not fade off like I expected. And that lasted for 75% of the book. When the author brought us down from his battles with drugs and depression, it was though he lost his edge and then everything appeared pedestrian. Granted: people with his experiences can appear larger than life, and the trouble of "three small people don't amount to a hill o'beans in this world..." but that's was the author's opportunity to look us right in the eye and state: I'm back in the saddle. We didn't get that, but leading up to his final cure was pretty entertaining.
June 27, 2012
Years ago I read The Unquiet Mind by Kay Redfield Jamison about her struggle with bipolar disorder. I loved it. I learned so much about what bipolar people go through and felt such empathy for her.
I had expected a similar experience with this book about Ned Zeman's depression and amnesia brought on by electroconvulsive therapy. But not so much. I just didn't care for his writing style. I know he's a highly successful reporter, but it just seemed like he was trying way too hard to sound cool. A more straight forward telling of his story would have been more effective.
He was blessed with an amazing group of friends who helped him through his ordeal. At times it was pretty amazing that they stuck with him.
I had expected a similar experience with this book about Ned Zeman's depression and amnesia brought on by electroconvulsive therapy. But not so much. I just didn't care for his writing style. I know he's a highly successful reporter, but it just seemed like he was trying way too hard to sound cool. A more straight forward telling of his story would have been more effective.
He was blessed with an amazing group of friends who helped him through his ordeal. At times it was pretty amazing that they stuck with him.
May 4, 2014
This was a book club read and I really enjoyed it. I liked the angle that he used to tell the story. He's an investigative journalist who writes stories about people (particularly, other writers who struggle with their own mood issues). That's exactly what he did here, only it's about himself. The style in which he wrote it made perfect sense. I loved all the "writer" stuff in it and found it all interesting. I also liked learning the stories about the writers that he researched and wrote about. I think he does a good job of sharing insight about what it's like to have a mood disorder, including what it's like with doctors, all the prescriptions, ECT, and how it impacts your personal and professional life. And I love his "rules of the tunnel" at the end. Good stuff!
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