Classic Book Review: One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest



I enjoy going back periodically and reading books I read long ago or are considered classics of literature. Now, to be honest, I can’t remember if I ever actually read One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey before. I do remember seeing the movie adaptation with my grandmother. Spending time with my grandmother watching old movies and television shows is one of the more loved memories I have of her. I have a love of movie musicals, films from the 1930s through the 1950s, and cheesy television Westerns like The Rifleman and Big Valley; all because there was one television and she controlled what we watched and cartoons and kid specific programming only came on Saturday mornings. I know for some reading this, the concept is absolutely unbelievable. There are just so many more options for occupying our kids (for good or bad). So, when I needed a contemporary reading break, this title caught my eye.

The blurb on book read: “In this classic of the 1960s, Ken Kesey’s hero is Randle Patrick McMurphy, a boisterous, brawling, fun-loving rebel who swaggers into the world of a mental hospital and takes over. A lusty, life-affirming fighter, McMurphy rallies the other patients around him by challenging the dictatorship of Nurse Ratched. He promotes gambling in the ward, smuggles in wine and women, and openly defies the rules at every turn. But this defiance, which starts as a sport, soon develops into a grim struggle, an all-out war between two relentless opponents: Nurse Ratched, back by the full power of authority, and McMurphy, who has only his own indomitable will. What happens when Nurse Ratched uses her ultimate weapon against McMurphy provides the story’s shocking climax.”

Now, you know as much as I remembered when I picked it up. It was in many ways a shockingly realistic picture of 1960s mental health in America. This to say, there are horrible medical practises in place such as shock therapy and lobotomies which today no one would think to be a reasonable or acceptable standard of care for the mentally ill. It also includes vernacular of the day which is demeaning to black people. If these ideas are offensive, I certainly suggest not reading the book. But I caution those who dislike reading or studying historically accurate snapshots of the past, those snapshots help us see where we were wrong and how we can hopefully improve. Many also speak to the dichotomy of the big bad nurse who is there to thwart all happiness in the men she is supposed to care for and the boisterous ideal of a “real man” who doesn’t go quietly along with her domination. He blows in and looks around and seems to decide that all these shrugging, quiet men are in need of toughening up to the status quo. But to me, the real gem in this book is the narrator, he is a mixed race man of great stature who we learn early on has been here a long time and is faking at being deaf and voiceless (dumb in the book). The Chief as he is called, is part Native American (the book is not so correct in its wording) and part white and tall, but no one pays him much attention and as such he sees all. His thoughts on the rules and rulers of the medical ward are fantastical such as you might expect from the mentally ill, but they are superb examples of how our actions to assimilate and control can be viewed as a mindless machine, much in the vein of ‘Big Brother’. 

The writing is full of imagery and flows in a very conversational tone. You feel like you are sitting in on a secret being whispered and you feel a little honored to be in on it all. There are many characters peppered in the story and you will find yourself horrified, saddened, angry and probably exceedingly invested in what happens to each. This novel gives it all to you and you feel like you are there amidst the white walls and green patient uniforms.

Go checkout One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and be transported as I was. I believe you will be glad you did or you just might be a little upset, that is good too. The writing will stay with you long after the last word is read.

Way To Go, #1 Son

Working on crossing the midline of his brain while playing ball

My son works really hard to master simple things that come naturally to most of us. He doesn’t always get my epically wicked sarcasm or jokes or remember to do things we all do daily. His difficulties make him anxious and that anxiety makes him lash out physically in an attempt to control a world that often feels alien to him. Since we started this diagnostic path when he was 3, he has come a long way. Many people like to say that I and my husband have done such a great job, but that isn’t true. I may search for the therapists and doctors and school curriculum, but he does all the heavy lifting. I remember feeling unlike others as a child too, I mean exactly why was what they found fun so boring to me? I can only imagine this feeling is multiplied infinitely for him in trying to navigate a world that tells him he is too different, he must change, he is weird and strange and makes way too much noise for the other civilized people. Every time he gets up, he has to try and remember what he is supposed to do while his brain is thinking about a thousand other things, he has to find the right combination of shirt, shorts, and socks that not only do this strange thing his parents call ‘matching’ they must also not have any large seams or tags or just feel too itchy to wear. He then surrounds himself in items he has specially chosen that makes him feel strong and hidden simultaneously. The oversized jacket, shades and scarf effectively shield him from a world he barely understands. 

 He also has a huge heart that wants to be friends with everyone and never understands why someone he just met at the monkey bars doesn’t want to play with him or calls him “weird” and kicks him when he just wants to run around and have fun together. You may think this is an extreme example, I assure it just happened a few days ago, to my 9 year old who just wants us all to have free video games and play well together. He is scary intelligent and often solves problems by saying “there is no spoon” (See The Matrix for this reference). He shocks me often with his thoughts and ideas. I have always wanted him to reach his potential and be happy. I work tirelessly learning new techniques and therapies to help him learn what comes instinctively to most of us. It isn’t always fun, I often feel alone and beaten up and so far beyond my depth of understanding that I am doing more harm than good. But I get up everyday and try again, because I am giving him the best I possibly can, in the same way my family gave me all they could to improve and enhance my life.

He is in therapy 3 hours a week in order to help him meet your expectations in social situations and to improve his small motor skills, writing, and short term memory. I often watch him in therapy and prayerfully thank God for the ability to help him. Not all families have an easy time getting the help they need of their kids, not medically or emotionally. They can’t get insurance coverage or their area doesn’t have any supportive help available. Our hometown world is full of help, we have insurance coverage, and are surrounded by people who love him and support us. I pray that all who need help in whatever their journey is, they will still be able to get it as our government wrestles with the enormous responsibility of deciding who and how to help. No man gets ahead alone and may we all remember that. 

My son works hard at therapy, at school, even at play and maybe I need to remember the work he accomplishes in addition to many deserves to be recognized and rewarded. I love you son, just the way you are, keep being caring and weird because you just wouldn’t be as much fun if you were different!