Marin Sardy鈥檚 younger brother once asked, in all earnestness, if she remembered the time she tried to murder him.听
She was taken aback鈥攕he had never done that.听
Sardy鈥檚 first book, the memoir听 ($25.95, Pantheon), details the complicated experience of living with both a brother and mother who suffered from听severe mental illness, neither of whom agreed to substantial treatment or even acknowledged their situations. With lyrical descriptions and a creative, nonlinear structure that mimics the erratic nature of schizophrenia鈥攖he book鈥檚 form shifts from听prose to disembodied lists鈥擲ardy traces the course that mental illness has cut through her family.

Sardy鈥檚 is a multiplex clan, one in which a condition appears in successive generations. In such instances, severity often increases as it鈥檚 passed down. This was the case with her brother, Tom鈥攁 skilled skier and climber who abandoned those pursuits when schizophrenia grabbed hold during his mid twenties鈥攁nd their mother, Mari, who broke down in her forties and spent the rest of her life roving from the family鈥檚 hometown of Anchorage, to California, New Mexico, and beyond. While Mari was functional with the support of Marin and others, Tom refused offers of help from family and friends and spent years homeless in Alaska before eventually dying by听suicide in 2014.
How does one try to lead any semblance of a normal life under such circumstances? Sardy provides no concrete answers to this question except her own example. She hasn鈥檛 experienced schizophrenia firsthand but recognizes the ways it has听informed her life. The first chapter, 鈥淪trange Things I Have Encountered,鈥 is a series of disjointed vignettes: the sun red through a dense cloud of smoke, a crumpled bullet on the floor. Upon first read, the strange episodes seem confusing and incongruous. Later听they become prescient. 鈥淲hen a sharp object presses into you but doesn鈥檛 cut you,鈥 Sardy writes, 鈥渁nd your skin bulges around it and forms a crease at the point of contact.鈥 This turn of phrase reflects the book鈥檚 exploration of how mental illness reverberates through the affected person鈥檚 entire community, everyone growing awkwardly around it.
The author, also an essayist (some chapters, like 鈥淎 Shapeless Thief鈥 and 鈥淐hokecherries,鈥 were published elsewhere before being incorporated into the memoir) describes childhood with a severely paranoid mother in surprisingly matter-of-fact听terms. Mari鈥檚 delusions became obvious when Marin was just ten听years old. 鈥淪he took my sisters and brother and me to hotels when she thought they were watching us,鈥 Sardy writes. 鈥淲e slept there on school nights, displaced, broken from our routine as she remade our world.鈥 After the parents divorced, the children鈥檚 father moved in next door so the kids would be close by. The four siblings continued to live with their mother on and off.

A chapter is dedicated to anonymous family members鈥 interviews with Sardy, explaining in turns that they didn鈥檛 understand what was happening to Mari, that they hoped it might go away, that it was too shameful to address head-on. Even in the 1980s, schizophrenia was not well understood, and to this day听the syndrome鈥檚 causes and symptoms are not entirely clear.听Despite her tumultuous upbringing, Sardy matured into a well-adjusted adult with a more nuanced understanding of how her mother saw the world.听
The author鈥檚 life isn鈥檛 terribly dissimilar from her mother鈥檚. An itinerant worker in her young-adult years, Sardy worked summers in Alaska banding birds for Fish and Wildlife and spent winters chasing powder and exploring Asia and Latin America. She takes readers along on some of her travels鈥擟osta Rica with Tom, just before the onset of his mental illness; Morocco with her sister Adrienne. She also reaches back through several generations of mental illness. Her grandmother Barbara鈥檚 brother was institutionalized, and her great-grandmother Julia appears to have experienced hallucinations of Japanese spies in the walls of her home during World War II. Sardy connects the dots between her own traits and those of her forebears: the sensitivity, the moodiness, how听鈥渋n spite of myself, my life turned on absurdities and paradoxes.鈥 She touches鈥攖oo briefly鈥攐n her own struggle with depression. As in any family, examining one鈥檚 relatives is a useful lens for understanding oneself.
An essayist and cultural critic,听Sardy also uses pop culture to look inward. One chapter recalls a phase in her early twenties when she took to wearing flamboyantly colorful clothing, accessories, and makeup while living in Bozeman, Montana. She likened herself to David Bowie and his famous Aladdin Sane persona, who wore a lightning bolt across his face to symbolize the dual-mindedness exhibited by schizophrenics like his brother Terry. Sardy wasn鈥檛 aware of this connection, but in retrospect, she writes, 鈥淚 think I was trying to do what Bowie had done, to find a way to continue on in the presence of schizophrenia.鈥澨齇stentatious articles听of clothing like听a thrifted lavender and navy mesh shirt emblazoned with the word ASYLUM made Sardy stand out听from the crowd in the mountain town.听鈥淭his was where I first understood that you could find asylum in exposure.鈥
By opening up and writing frankly about her experiences, Sardy does more than indulge readers鈥 morbid fascination. She writes to help herself make sense of traumatic events, but in doing so she forces readers to consider mental illness more familiarly: What if your brother, or your mother, was psychotic? Odds are, you鈥檇 think differently about how our society addresses鈥攐r fails to address鈥攎ental health. In the book, Sardy remembers a shockingly tactless column in the Anchorage Daily News about Tom, who was by that point a well-known fixture around town, infamous for peeping on a local woman (though his motives, at least to those who knew him, were ostensibly benign). To the columnist, Tom is merely some crazy guy in the park who might be dangerous. To Sardy, he鈥檚 her brother. It鈥檚 a messy reality to tangle with.