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PHENOMENA: The Lost And Forgotten Children

 by Susan Tarr.
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Updated 3 July 2018 –  ‘PHENOMENA has been nominated for several book awards, and the latest is to be shortlisted for Book of the Month Amazon UK, Amazon US and Amazon CA …

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At the heart of this book is the story of a ‘disabled’ little boy whose journey through life is narrated with empathy and compassion by author, Susan Tarr. Not long after the tragic death of his baby brother, followed closely by the death of his beloved mother, he is abandoned by his father at a railway station. When this severely traumatised little boy is picked up by authorities he can’t or won’t give his name.  In fact, he refuses to speak at all. The decision is made to admit him to the Seacliff Lunatic Asylum, a common practise in the 19th and early 20th centuries in New Zealand. Upon admission into Seacliff he is given the name, Malcolm, and there he withdraws completely into himself. He is subsequently diagnosed as being of below normal intelligence as well as having some kind of mental illness. He is incarcerated in the Asylum with other traumatised children; some with their mothers and others, like Malcolm, alone.

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Seacliff Lunatic Asylum in Dunedin, New Zealand. Demolished in 1959.

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Although a work of fiction, Malcolm’s story is based on a true story. In actual fact, the author knows ‘Malcolm’ personally and she has made his story a composite of the lives of many children who grew up in the Gothic styled Seacliff Lunatic Asylum. This is partly to protect his true identity and partly to weave into the book the lives of other ‘lost and forgotten children’ in psychiatric institutions.

Susan Tarr lived in a small East Otago coastal settlement near the mouth of the Waikouaiti River, situated approximately 20 miles north of Dunedin city. Seacliff Village relied on Seacliff Lunatic Asylum nestled on the hill above it for its commercial existence. Many residents of the village worked at the asylum as attendants, nurses, cleaners, cooks, gardeners and tradespeople. Susan Tarr had relatives and friends who were employed as staff, and she has herself  previously worked at  Seacliff Asylum and other psychiatric hospitals.

I grew up in Dunedin and knew of Seacliff  the asylum although I knew of no-one who had been a patient there. Whenever anyone spoke of Seacliff, it conjured up for me, images of raving, salivating lunatics. However, I did have a school friend my own age who attended St Dominic’s College at the top of Rattray Street in the city at the same time I was there. She travelled by train to and fro between Waikouaiti train station and the College every school day.  On occasion I was invited to her home where I met her parents and siblings. Her father was a psychiatric nurse at Seacliff. It transpired that Susan Tarr also knew my  school friend and her family very well; they were near neighbours in the residential settlement at Seacliff/Waikouaiti.

I had never communicated with the author before I saw her post on Twitter with a link to information about Phenomena. So it was very much a chance connection. I bought and downloaded the book immediately onto my tablet and I couldn’t put it down. Not only because it is so well written, but also because it evoked memories of Dunedin which I had left behind many years ago.  Susan Tarr writes in detail about the parks and streets in and around Dunedin. She has accessed personal diaries, old letters, and interviewed ex-staff and former patients for the book. Personal and shared experiences with the author’s workmates, family and friends have added to the depth of this work.

To accompany Malcolm on his journey through the pages of Phenomena is to gain a remarkable insight into the thoughts and feelings of sufferers at a time when mental illness was little understood. The harsh treatment of children at Seacliff, an institution completely devoid of love and understanding, is heartrending. Most of the children suffered from nothing more than emotional trauma, or epilepsy. Some patients, admitted as children, spent their whole lives incarcerated at Seacliff, and died there. Women who succumbed to misdiagnosed post-natal depression were declared ‘insane’ and locked away from family support and their children which often deepened their depression, developed into psychotic states or far worse.  Ex-soldiers suffering battle fatigue and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, (not properly diagnosed at the time) were also among patients at Seacliff.  There were also many ‘criminally insane’ inmates but they were locked up in a secure section of the hospital.

At the forefront of institutional care for the ‘insane’ in New Zealand in the late 19th and early 20th Centuries was Dr Frederic Truby King, known as Truby King. Malcolm’s story brings to vivid life the day to day existence for patients at Seacliff  under the radical ideas instituted by Dr King. The doctor was well qualified at the time, having gained a Bachelor of Medicine and Science, and Master of Surgery at Edinburgh University. In 1894 he returned to Edinburgh to study Brain Pathology, nervous and mental disorders. He became a Member of Psychological Association of Great Britain. During Dr King’s tenure as Medical Superintendent of Seacliff between 1889 and 1920, his energy and compassion towards patients earned him a ‘solid reputation’. But he ran the Asylum with the authoritarian and disciplinarian attitudes of the era. Concurrently, Dr King held the lectureship of mental diseases at Otago University and consultancies in Public Health and Medical Jurisprudence. As if that wasn’t enough, he was also responsible for the overall management of auxiliary institutions at Waitati, and The Camp on the Otago Peninsula.  In terms of the horror stories recorded at other lunatic asylums around the world, there is no doubt Dr King began a benign revolution in the care of the mentally ill.

Susan Tarr cleverly weaves the changes Dr King brought to institutional care through Malcolm’s eyes. The detail of his and other children’s lives growing up in the Asylum among severely disturbed and mentally ill adults is harrowing. More so because they were intelligent but had no idea why they were there or of life outside of Seacliff.  The treatments and bullying Malcolm endured are frightening and he eventually suppressed any curiosity about life, closing himself off from everybody and everything around him.  Because he had been institutionalised since childhood, his perceptions of life outside were incomplete, mystifying and alarming. Some attendants could be aggressive and violent and Malcolm felt the constant scrutiny unnerving. He saw events and heard discussions he had little internal resources to process.  In the children’s and adults’ minds, the uniformed staff were wardens, there to be obeyed and to inflict punishments on them when necessary. They were not there to offer comfort or give answers to any questions patients might have.

As Malcolm grew into manhood, life began to evolve even more at Seacliff. The  hospital complex had been run as a 900 acre farm, vegetable garden and orchard within its boundaries, with any produce used by the patients and staff as Dr King had envisaged. He firmly believed that mental illness was the result of the maltreatment and malnourishment of infants. So a healthy diet and plenty of fresh air were essential. Dr King had also established a fishing business at Karitane, a small coastal settlement a few miles north of Seacliff. Patients who enjoyed fishing  hitched rides in the hospital van and it was said that so much fish was caught on these regular trips that it ‘contributed greatly to the fishing industry’ and of course contributed to the patients’ healthy diet.

Malcolm was eventually allowed much more freedom around and outside the Asylum environs and he benefited greatly from his activities in the gardens and on the farm. His memory and speech slowly returned and he befriended members of  staff, particularly the head cook and one of the gardeners, who tried to assist Malcolm with answers to baffling questions which arose out of the return of disturbing memories. These memories were able to surface because Malcolm accumulated the sedative pills he was given daily, after his ‘foggy’ brain slowly realised these were what was befuddling him. He had to be careful though, because if the attendants had found out he would be given ‘the treatment’ again.

The ‘real’ person Malcolm is, for so long buried deeply, becomes evident towards the end of the book after a staff member helps him to recover fully, lost and painful memories, and to research his birth date and his full name. The author skilfully uses Malcolm’s long road to rehabilitation to highlight the later important developments in psychiatric care. Namely the emphasis on the medical classification of patients, the increase in patients’ liberty, the agitation for early and voluntary admission, more highly trained staff, and more female nurses. In the past, drugs, so important today, were used infrequently, mainly to calm patients. And psychoanalysis was seldom in use. One can’t help thinking how psychotherapy could have benefited Malcolm had he had access to this kind of treatment when he was first admitted to the Asylum as a deeply traumatised boy

Some of Dr King’s revolutionary ideas allowed patients to run the farm, orchard and gardens under supervision. Dr King originally replaced the attendant/gardener with a landscape gardener commissioned to develop an attractive bush setting for patients and staff to work and live in, with pleasant views out to sea. The idea was to banish all feelings of imprisonment from the patients’ minds. Dr King also designed and implemented a gravitational system of sewage irrigation which eliminated the foul-smelling gas that permeated the building. But the building itself was erected in 1874, on ‘shifting sands’ so there remained serious structural problems which Malcolm and the other patients had to live with. An ‘add-on’ structure behind the main building was consumed in a horrific fire in which many patients, locked in their rooms, were burned alive. The revivalist Gothic Seacliff Lunatic Asylum was finally demolished in 1959.

With a philosophy of efficiency and economy, Dr King had become actively involved in running the farm at Seacliff. Male patients worked outside on the farm and in the gardens while female patients did sewing and knitting, and worked in the laundry and kitchen although there was a male cook who produced delicious and nourishing meals while Malcolm lived there. Dr King held that farm work was unsuitable for women, but the chief reason for the ‘division of labour’ may have been that there was a concern about intimacy between patients of the opposite sex for various reasons. Of course close relationships between patients did exist, as well as antagonistic ones. Every summer a picnic was held for the patients while recreations and amusements were encouraged.  Dr King had to ‘vigorously defend’ the expense of maintaining a staff band, which continued to play at dances for the patients and other celebrations.

By 1895 Dr King was convinced that healthy diets and the general improvements in ventilation, drainage and other hygienic measures implemented at Seacliff were responsible for the almost entire eradication of erysipelas and ulcerated throats. Other doctors and scientists of the era had also known of the importance of hygiene, good nutrition and healthy environments, but Dr King reinforced his knowledge by putting his ideas to work at Seacliff.  Dr King has since been proven wrong in many of his beliefs about psychiatric illness, of which there was scant knowledge at the time. Environmental and social engineering could not and cannot, cure deep-seated psychological problems.

-Anne Frandi-Coory  5 August 2014

Also here on Anne Frandi-Coory’s facebook page:

https://www.facebook.com/myhomelibrary/

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For More about Seacliff Lunatic Asylum, see previous post

 

 

Updated 9 April 2016

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Sarah Wise documents life in early 19th Century London.  She has done meticulous research into such things as body snatching, murders and the filth of London Streets on which many homeless people spent their lives. She writes in the Preface:

Toward the end of 1831, London’s Metropolitan Police were alerted to a ghastly series of crimes… I first came across the London killings – or the Italian Boy case as it was known – in the course of writing a newspaper article about an East End council housing estate in Bethnal Green that had been built on the site of one of the nineteenth century’s most notorious slums. It was said that the surrounding district had been tainted for decades by the grisly crimes committed in Nova Scotia Gardens …and indeed, on investigation I learned that in the late autumn of 1831, No 3 Nova Scotia Gardens had had infamy thrust upon it by its residents, John Bishop and Thomas Williams, and an associate, James May – all of them body snatchers, or “resurrection men” who were charged with murdering a vagrant child. 

The case of the Italian boy and the subsequent investigations into the other horrific events at Nova Scotia Gardens highlighted the extremely unpleasant aspects of life in London. It was a city that had increased by one third between 1801 and 1831 to over one and half million inhabitants making it one of the most diverse populations anywhere on earth. This era in London was named ‘The Italian Boy’ by the author because as she says, it was an era without a name: Following the Italian Boy case in the newspapers of the day, I became curious about the type of people who had fallen into the path of the accused on their nightly prowls around the metropolis …What sort of city was London in 1831?

The author writes of the young children and young adults who could be picked up off the streets by body snatchers, brothel keepers, sex offenders, and press-gangs. This is the history of the nameless poor and destitute, and immigrant boys such as in the case of the Italian boy, who tried to survive on the streets. Sarah Wise asks the question we would all like answered: Why, even in death, did their identities remain mysterious? 

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The chapters that particularly  interested me at the time I bought ‘The Italian Boy’ concerned the Smithfield Market.  Hundreds of thousands of cattle, sheep, pigs and horses were driven to Smithfield from all over England, and were slaughtered on the streets or in uncovered yards for all to see.  The cruelty these animals were subjected to is nothing less than barbaric.  But then life for humans in London at that time could be described as barbaric as well.

One passage reads:

‘Passersby glancing left or right into a court or yard, where a butcher worked could find themselves witnessing a killing.  It was alleged by various witnesses before the 1828 Select Committee on Smithfield that sheep were often skinned before being completely dead;  it was observed that an unskilled slaughterman could require up to ten blows with an axe to kill a bullock …horses were up to their knees in the weltering remains of their fellow creatures, maimed and starving and showing obvious signs of distress as their fate dawned on them.’

For me, there were similarities in the way the animals were treated as described at Smithfield, and those in the Indonesian abattoir in the 21st Century, where live Australian cattle were sent to be butchered.  Australian animals who had grown up on Australian farms trusting humans and being treated humanely. But that is another story.

Sarah Wise brings a dark and disturbing period of London history vividly to life. Even allowing for the brutality, this is a great read.

It was an eye opener for me on a personal level. Whilst researching my family tree, I discovered that some of my Italian ancestors lived in the slums of London during the Italian Boy era. My great grandfather, as a young man, was an ‘organ grinder’  with a performing monkey when the family first arrived in London. But again, that is another story.

-Anne-Frandi Coory  9 April 2016

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See:   Indonesian Abattoir-A Lesson in Bloody Cruelty  &  Halal Butchery.

 

 

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A View of Smithfield Market from 'The Italian Boy' by Sarah Wise

A View of Smithfield Market from ‘The Italian Boy’ by Sarah Wise

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George Cruikshank's The Horse's Last Home from 'The Italian Boy' by Sarah Wise

George Cruikshank’s The Horse’s Last Home from ‘The Italian Boy’ by Sarah Wise

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This novel is a great read; one of suspense, horrendous murder and intrigue, poetry and war.  Set in the mid 19th Century, it revolves around poets and writers, who form the Dante Club to support and advise the American poet H W Longfellow, while he completes the first American translation of  Dante’s Divine Comedy.

The Dante Club takes us through the changes in Boston wrought by the American civil war including the huge increase in violent crime.  Slavery may have been  abolished but black Americans continued to suffer and the American people were bitterly divided on the issue.  Soldiers who fought in the war, aimlessly walk the streets of Boston, physically and mentally broken.  One soldier relives his experiences daily and I for one had no idea how brutal that war was considering it was mostly Americans fighting each other. The two sides were infiltrated by foreigners who had their own agenda for joining up.

American universities of the times were managed by wealthy and sometimes bigoted business men.  One particular university pressured the influential Longfellow to give up his quest to translate Dante’s work, believing he should concentrate instead on promoting American writers, not a foreign writer who dwells on ridiculous stories about hell and who has been exiled from his own country.

Matthew Pearl cleverly weaves all of these issues into his book.  For instance, the first black police officer in the Boston police force, who is involved in the search for a serial killer, is not permitted to wear a uniform, has to hide his badge under his jacket and is subjected to racial comments and bullying by fellow officers.  Strangers in the street hurl constant racial slurs at him.   Corrupt politicians change the law so that detectives could claim the substantial financial reward offered by the wealthy widow of one of the victims, for the killer’s capture.

On top of all of this, Mr Pearl manages to incorporate the fascinating subject of entomology to help solve one of the most gruesome murders.  The insect in question is Cochliomyia Hominivorax whose methods are as bloody as the killer’s.

Mr Pearl graduated from Harvard University summa cum laude in English and American Literature in 1997, and in 1998 he won the Dante Prize from the Dante Society of America. – Anne Frandi-Coory 15 March 2011

Life in Australia in the 1950s and 1960s

This is a great read!   It is a story about two families with very little money who share a large, wooden, rambling house.  The house has been left to  one family in a will,  and they lease half to another family.  Each  family lives in one half of the house with a long hallway the dividing line.  It is set in a time when Australia was a raw country and so were its people.

The author, Tim Winton, makes all the characters come alive on the page and you can almost sense the atmosphere in the house as children and adults clash and tensions build.  Everyone knows what everyone else is up to on the other side of paper thin, dilapidated walls.  Added to that, the house has ghosts.  Tim Winton forgoes standard  punctuation throughout the book, but it doesn’t detract from the story at all, just seems to enhance the settings.

I think this is a truly Australian story with its share of  tragedy, religion, laughter and all too human flaws.

-Anne Frandi-Coory 5 October 2010

After 9/11

Apparently, this was a difficult book for the author, Joseph O’Neill,  to sell to publishers.  I only bought it because Jason on Tuesday Book Club tagged it as a book he enjoyed and recommended to viewers.  I have never been disappointed in any of his literary recommendations.

The critics variously describe Netherland as a story about love, marriage, the American dream, New York City and London after the bombing of the twin towers, cricket and to me, weakest of all, a murder mystery.  The storyline twists and turns with memorable  characters  from different ethnic backgrounds popping up here and there and whose respective philosophies  on life make the story so interesting.  In one extreme  example, there is the Turkish dramatic  ‘angel’ resplendent in white feathery wings and tights who lives upstairs in one of the apartments above Han’s, and who seeks Hans out for companionship.   Then there are those immigrant men who bring their passion for cricket with them to New York. They  make up ragtag teams to play the game whenever they get the chance and can find a venue that will allow such sacrilege on American playing fields.

The book features all of the above.  But to me the motif brought forth the old adage that  ‘the child maketh the man’.   All through the difficult times the narrator, Hans van den Broek of Dutch heritage, is propelled back to his childhood and the bittersweet memories of life with his devoted mother and without his father, who died when he Hans, was a young boy.   It is about the poignancy of sitting in the present and suddenly being transported into another place and time far back into the recesses of memory.  Whatever;  it is a good read.

– Copyright To Anne Frandi-Coory 7 September 2010