Many chapters are simply touching, eloquent reports of a depressive episode, what triggered it, its course, what helped and what didn’t, and the afterview. I have always held that novelists were the first psychoanalysts, and the depths of psychologically sophisticated wisdom apparent in these pages is impressive and refreshing. Russell Banks, unlikely to have read Tom Ogden or the Kleinians, discovered in intimacy with his depressed wife a "third person, who was neither of us…smiling beneficently between us, with an arm draped across our shoulders…our mutual creation containing both our pasts and our personalities." Banks’s chapter is not the only one to document that depression of one partner can insinuate itself into the life of the other and stay there. Donald Hall was married for 23 years to Jane Kenyon, whose poetry constitutes the foreword to this book and who had bipolar disorder. He was her dedicated caretaker, and 13 months after her death he suffered his first manic episode, which felt to him very much "her ghost."