Written in her mid-twenties, Wurtzel’s uncensored narrative takes the reader deep into the life of an unhinged but extremely intelligent young woman suffering with depression before Prozac and similar drugs were heavily prescribed (Prozac was approved for use in 1987). I wanted to write like someone who has been stuck somewhere for so long that by the time she got un-stuck none of the rules mattered anymore.

I wanted to forget all the literary conventions and the hesitation and restraint and sane consideration that I’d always been taught were the hallmarks of good writing. In her afterword, Wurtzel, a Harvard graduate, writes: I certainly felt like a voyeur while reading it. Wurtzel writes with a level of honesty about her struggles with mental illness, heavily defined by years of highly erratic behavior, that borders on exhibitionism. In fact, sober is a pretty laughable word to describe this memoir of sex, drugs and rock and roll, with chapter 12 entitled “The Accidental Blowjob.” Naively, I thought Prozac Nation was going to be a sober journalistic exploration of anti-depressant use in the United States. I was 16 at the time, and not the type of 16-year-old looking for a book like this. I was familiar with it the way one is loosely familiar with a pop culture reference from a different era. I knew nothing about Prozac Nation by Elizabeth Wurtzel when I picked it up.

Prozac nation book review