Overwhelmed

In Erin Miller Reid’s But for Fortune, we meet Corinth Eaton, who appears to be a thriving young woman. She’s doing well in medical school and is in a happy relationship with a man she wants to marry. Corinth is on the verge of having everything she’s ever wanted. Except she’s not.

She suffers from debilitating doubt, anxiety, and depression that only gets worse when she makes a mistake that puts her on suspension from the hospital. Afterward, she’s reassigned to Maxwood — a psychiatric facility where her grandmother was once a patient. When she finds her grandmother’s file, she has insight for the first time into things her family has always been unwilling to share. Undoubtedly, Maxwood offers an essential step toward Corinth getting her life back. The question is whether she can see past her current trouble and her own self-doubt to become the person she’s always longed to be.

Corinth’s narrative is balanced with the story of a second woman, Mary Esther, who at first we know little about. Mary Esther seems normal on the surface, a housewife with a new baby on the way, until one bad incident lands in her in Maxwood. This is when the ties between Corinth and Mary Esther become clearer.

Reid, a physician from southeastern Kentucky, takes two seemingly disparate women and reveals them to be two sides of a coin. Mary Esther and Corinth Eaton are in many ways the same person. They’re both driven by a desire to be and do more. They are both beset with anxiety and depression that weigh down the body and overwhelm the mind.

The author’s experience as a doctor is evident in the knowledge and care with which she handles such difficult subject matter. Still, But For Fortune manages to lighten what is inevitably a heavy load. What surprises me the most, because I have known the difficulty of struggling with mental health and having family in psychiatric facilities, is how much compassion Reid brings to the story. The humanity she writes into the characters is more than stirring.

Reid’s care is epitomized by an exchange among Maxwood residents. We find Mary Esther at a meal alongside a bunkmate named Vera and friends Doris and Camilla. Doris’ appearance, “a pudgy, pasty-skinned woman who rolled her knee-highs down to her ankles,” contrasts with “beautiful Camilla, silky-haired despite the cheap hospital shampoo. Her cheeks glowed with pink rouge that complemented her vibrant red lips.” These ordinary women talk about makeup and peas as they eat. Then Camilla raps on the bowl in front of her and jokes, “Nothing around here is glass, not a single bowl or plate. They’re afraid we’ll try to cut ourselves.” It feels like a casual acknowledgment and reminds me of a thousand similar remarks I’ve heard from people who deal with mental illness. A joke about cutting yourself is preceded by, followed by, and in many ways is regular everyday conversation.

Another striking thing about the book is the beauty of the language. Describing the time before Mary Esther’s stint at Maxwood, Reid writes:

That was the first time it happened. The unraveling. As soon as Eldon had pulled Samuel from Mary Esther’s arms, the tightly wound ball of yarn started to unwind. It unspooled until there was a single thread connecting Mary Esther to her baby, tethering her to the world.

The more the yarn unwound, the less Mary Esther was able to sit still. Her feet twitched on the bed. She chewed her thumbnail. Ginny’s nasally voice clanged in her ears.

The lyricism pulls the reader in and propels them forward. It also makes tangible the often intangible experience of mental and emotional deterioration. It allows light and beauty to reach what can often be such a lightless experience.

Reid delivers a vivid portrayal of resilience, family trauma, and coping with serious mental and emotional challenges. All the time Corinth’s life is falling apart — at odds in her relationship, unable to get out of bed and manage the load of study, work, and life — she is also getting better. Medication helps her depression, and she is learning more about her grandmother and her family history.

But for Fortune is the story of two women: one who is striving to overcome her past, despite impossible barriers, and another who has undergone hell and come out the other side marked but alive and having kept, somehow, the parts of her that are rebellious and cantankerous. Reid has created a novel that will follow you for days after you’ve finished it and bring you back again and again with more questions.