In her 2017 YA novel Some Kind of Happiness, Claire Legrand paints a poignant picture of mental illness and the difficulties of navigating family relationships. It is a fictional account of teenager Finley Hart as she spends a summer with grandparents and cousins she has never met while her parents resolve their relationship issues. Interspersed in the chapters is a magical story of a place called “Everwood,” a fantasy realm that serves as a coping mechanism for the young girl, who uses it to journey through dangers, meeting friends and foes both without and within. Fantasy and reality bleed into each other as Finley struggles with what she sees as “a darkness” within her, a darkness that threatens to destroy the Everwood.
Claire Legrand used to be a musician until she realized she couldn’t stop thinking about the stories in her head. Now Ms. Legrand is a full-time writer living in New Jersey. She has written two middle grade novels—The Cavendish Home for Boys and Girls, one of the New York Public Library’s 100 Titles for Reading and Sharing in 2012, and The Year of Shadows—as well as the young adult novel Winterspell. Her newest book A Crown of Ivy and Glass Book One of the Middlemist Trilogy will be published by Sourcebooks Casablanca in May 2023. Visit her at Claire-Legrand.com and on Twitter @ClaireLegrand.
Some Kind of Happiness is an insightful tool that can be used to teach teenage and adult audiences the difficulty in confronting and naming mental illness in one's life. The book starts off with Finley being dropped off for the summer at her grandparents' house. For reasons not yet known Finley’s father is estranged from his parents, so until this point Finley has never met them or her aunts and uncles. Her parents need the summer alone to “work on things” and it is implied they are approaching divorce but not explicitly stated.
This refusal to give a name to problems is a recurring theme that’s true of the teenagers and adults alike in this insightful narrative. Like Finley many teenagers may be unable or unwilling to articulate what they are feeling. They are suddenly dealing with complex emotions and adult situations they’ve never encountered before. Finley’s journey through this symbolic forest of emotional struggles—and how much her viewpoint as a teenager differs from the adults around her—is a reminder of the confusion adolescents experience and the real benefits that come from confronting and giving voice to their struggles.
While the story is geared towards a Young Adult audience, Legrand’s skillful and engaging prose creates a useful depiction of working through these emotions and figuring out what they mean. It also helps to combat the stigma of mental illness, normalizing it as a part of life. Adult readers can glean a lot of insights as well. I found myself reflecting on how I try to recognize struggles in children and youth around in my life, and how I approach difficult and sensitive topics with them.
As the story progresses Finley tells her cousins about the Everwood and the children play fantasy games in the nearby forest together. Her cousins are knights, squires and princesses, and Finley plays the orphan turned queen. Against the warnings of their grandparents, they make friends with the neighbor boys and create a world full of lore and magic. The tone and story of the book made me think of Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Peterson.
Though she plays with her cousins the Everwood isn’t a game to Finley; it is something more, a place where she escapes from her problems. One day the young girl realizes the Everwood is changing and decaying and as she investigates, she meets a snake. The snake warns that something within her is destroying the Everwood and helps extract a portion of oily darkness from her. Unfortunately, the snake isn't powerful enough to remove all of the darkness, but warns that it must be removed to save the Everwood, as seen in this passage:
“Whatever we carry within our hearts, the Everwood’s power makes it real. And soon what you carry will destroy not only you but everything you touch. The Everwood is not as strong as it once was; your darkness will bring out its own. To save the forest you must face this thing inside you.”The orphan girl held back tears of shame. Her great secret, the one she had worked so hard to conceal, lodged in her heart, “But how?”
“First you must give it a name,” said the snake. “Naming a thing takes away some of its power and gives it to you instead.”
But Finley refuses, finding it too hard. This reminded me a lot of when a patient I worked with told me that being diagnosed with depression was almost as hard as suffering from it. To have their sadness given a name made it real and was painful, in part, because they couldn’t hide from it anymore. This is what Finley feels, and later, when she is confronted with a fox, she still refuses to name the darkness. It is unclear whether Finley is just afraid to name her condition and admit what is going on, or if she truly doesn’t understand what is happening and is unable to name it.
Legrand uses Finley’s internal dialog to adeptly describe the struggles of mental illness. Her young protagonist often has “blue days” and “episodes” that seem to be panic attacks. Finley, who feels incredible guilt about these attacks, recognizes her life is better than others and feels she has no reason to feel the way she does. When her cousins and friends discover a burned-down house with three graves in the front, they name it “Bone House” and learn about a young family that died in a fire. As the revelation comes to light, Finley begins to have a panic attack:
“...not even fresh air can get rid of this fear living like bugs underneath my skin.
This fear that I have no reason to feel.
There is no reason for the heaviness I can feel pressing down on me. Like when you step outside before a storm and the air feels heavy and damp, like you’re drinking it instead of breathing.
Like that, but worse.
It seems wrong to feel these things while standing in front of this poor, broken Bone House.
I ought to be able to get rid of these feelings—right?
Shouldn’t I be able to live in my beautiful, clean house (which is not burned) with my family (who are still alive) and be happy about it?
I ought to be able to get rid of these feelings.”
Eventually, as she explores the Everwood and receives help from her parents and family, Finley is able to name her darkness when she goes to see a therapist:
“I breathe in. I breath out.
(Its ok, Finley.)
(Let her see.)
Dad squeezes my hand.
“I think I have depression.” I hesitate, “And anxiety, too.”
When I say it, the words float away from me and leave nothing behind.
They are only words. They are only part of me, and I am still here.
I do not need to be afraid of them.”
With an understanding of what is going on within herself and a realization that things aren’t as perfect as they appear on the outside, Finley is able to accept who she is, and as she does the darkness of the Everwood recedes. Things are right again and she becomes more than “the orphan,” she becomes Queen of the Everwood.
I was impressed with the honest way mental illness was portrayed. I’ve read many clinical books that describe mental illness, but Claire Legrand was able to portray it in an emotional way that strikes one's heart. Some Kind of Happiness does what Finley struggles to do: It adeptly names and beautifully describes the struggles of depression and anxiety in a way that connects with readers. While Legrand doesn’t have an academic background in mental health, she has spoken on the struggles of living with mental illness. Her personal experiences shine through in the way she describes these struggles, making it an insightful one for those who are confronting their own difficult emotional landscape. Using both real world examples and allegory Some Kind of Happiness is a useful story for younger readers as well as clinicians in understanding mental illness. It gives voice to those who feel like outsiders in their own families or feel inadequate compared to everyone around them. It teaches us we don’t have to be afraid of what's inside us. We can face it, and when we do, we don’t need to face it alone. —M.T. Bennett
M.T. Bennett is a student at Trinity School of Medicine. He enjoys writing and spending time with his wife and two sons. Bennett is the author of “Dark and Bright: Poetry and Prose.” His writing has appeared in various publications from the Harvard Medical Student Review, to the Journal of Supernatural Studies, World Medical & Health Policy, Graphic Medicine, HEAL, America Media and MedPage Today.