It’s not a preface or an introduction. Exegesis works. An explanation. The Last Dangerous Visions and Harlan Ellison need explaining. The book and what happened to it, and the man, are sources of controversy. “Ellison Exegesis” helps.
It’s also an excellent essay, worthy of Ellison himself. Straczynski deserves praise.
Funny how we often can’t fully understand people until they’re gone.
Here it is, a simple explanation for his superhuman creativity and energy, and what happened to it as he got older. Bipolar disorder. Manic depression. Suddenly, the strange life and career of Harlan Ellison becomes clear, but maybe it’s not so simple. It could also be the most dangerous vision of them all.
There’s a disturbing relationship between creativity and mental health. (I was going to say “mental illness,” but that sends the wrong message.) I’ve known dazzling, creative people who turned out to be bipolar. Once, at a science fiction convention, my friend, the late Rick Cook asked a room full of writers, “Who in this room has depressive condition?”
Nearly everyone raised a hand.
Me included.
You never suspect it at first. They are always brilliant. “Where do they get their energy?” is often asked. They are fun to be with, and easy to love--at first. But there are times when they can be difficult. Crazy, if I can get away with a controversial word.
It gets worse as they get older.
The fantastic energy isn’t there. They need to be alone. Writing and other creative work becomes difficult.
If they are diagnosed, they acknowledge the depressive part, but the manic, that’s part of what drives them to be creative–isn’t it? They are afraid that medication will kill their creativity. They ask if there’s a drug that would get rid of the downs and keep the ups . . .
But, of course, the manic is part of the problem.
Creativity, the wonderful thing that drives civilization and makes us truly human, depends on getting close to the Edge, and as Hunter S. Thompson said: “There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over.”
Writing the above was scary. It kept sounding like I was describing myself.
After I couldn’t sell my third book, Smoking Mirror Blues–my agent eventually told me that no one in New York would publish it–I became severely depressed. Once on the phone, I told someone it was a few months, my wife gave me a serious look and said, “Three years.” I thought it over and told her if it ever seemed to be happening again, make me get help.
There have always been times when I’m feeling so good, and it all flows through me like magic . . . and I lose control.
I don't think I have the extreme mood swings I’ve seen in others, but it’s hard to see it when it’s happening to you.
A lot of wonderful, talented people come to tragic ends because of this. Damn. Our society needs to get real about mental health.
