1 out of 4 stars
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Barbra Streisand: On the Couch is a book written by Dr. Alma H. Bond, a psychoanalyst with 23 other books under her belt. It takes Barbra Streisand, the much acclaimed singer and actress, and places her in a fictional psychoanalyst's office. The book then looks over a year of analysis between the fictional doctor, Dr. Darcy Dale, and Barbra, offering to give some insight into the star's personality.
Now, I want to put a preface on this: I don't like giving bad reviews. I always like to look for even one bright spot in a book, no matter what else happens. That being said, here it goes.
I read the description of the book, and thought it would be a fictionalized version of a real psychoanalytic process between the author and Barbra Streisand (which, if true, might be a violation of HIPPA). But it is not so. This book is, in fact, the equivalent of a self-insert fan-fiction. Now, I don't mean to insult fan-fiction. It can be a profitable market if done right—just look at the Star Wars novels. I even indulge in a bit of well-written fan-fiction, both reading it and writing it. But this...this is the cringe-worthy fan-fiction stereotype you're afraid is lurking in the dark corners of the Internet. It's clearly the author's fantasy about what she would do if Barbra Streisand was her psychoanalytic client. Not only is the premise failed, but it is failed so abysmally that I could feel myself cringing at every other line of dialogue.
There are three really big issues that I find with this book: the main character, Barbra's characterization, and the premise.
The first issue. I don't know anything about this character except for his name and the fact that he's thirsty for Barbra Streisand. I know this is a book in a series, and Dr. Dale's character was probably established in an exposition book somewhere, but I feel that a sequel should be able to stand alone, and the characters should continue to have their definitive characteristics. Dr. Dale is a blank sheet of nothingness. His only defining trait is his affection for Barbra. And I say affection loosely. Most of Dr. Dale's dialogue is gag-worthy at best. He refers to Barbra as a "quixotic flower" at one point, to put things into perspective. At the beginning of the book, Dr. Dale ends a large paragraph describing Barbra's appearance with saying, "a very sexy looking woman with a shapely figure." And, oddly enough, he follows that up with thinking, "She isn't pretty." It's jarring and annoying. You can tell with every simpering soliloquy that Dale is clearly attracted to Barbra—and that's it.
And speaking of fake-Barbra (because yes, I'm not going to justify this character by letting it share the name with Barbra), her dialogue is AWFUL. There's a right way and a wrong way to do dialect in writing. Look at Mark Twain, a master of this element. But this book uses the dialect spelling all wrong. In fake-Barbra's first appearance, the author describes her accent before she speaks:
"She answered in a heavy Brooklyn accent, projecting her words forward toward the front of her mouth, almost like a slight open-mouthed pucker. She spoke in a fast New Yorkish way, using Brooklyn inflections and sparse consonants."
Okay. We get the gist. Yes, the prose is clunky, but we get the general concept. But then the author follows it up with this:
“I was drivin’ around the ciddy and thought of ya. Until the day she died Marilyn Monroe told everybody in Hollywood that ya’re a wonderful analyst."
Yikes. And it gets worse as the book goes on. At some points, I really wasn't sure if the manuscript had a typo or if it was a "dialect" thing.
Not only is the dialogue hard to read from a syntactical standpoint, but it's hard to read for anyone familiar with the real Barbra's character at all. The stubborn, strong, sometimes diva-esque, and damned funny Barbra Streisand is turned into a weepy, moody caricature. At one point, she says that the man who hit her father in a car accident doesn't even deserve a Nazi camp. I mean, I'm obviously going to fact-check to see if she actually said that, but I seriously doubt that real-life Barbra would say anything like that. I couldn't believe it when I first read it!
I should also comment on the book's premise itself. For an author with a PhD and 23 other books published, you'd think she'd know how therapy works. Now I'm one who goes to therapy, and I can just go ahead and say it now: THIS IS NOT HOW IT WORKS. Therapists aren't there to coddle you and hold you as you cry (and yes, that actually happens in this book). They're not there to give you another red carpet interview (seriously, some of Dale's questions are something you would expect out of an InTouch Magazine interview). But there's something about this book that bothers me the most.
When you first start with a new therapist, there's a certain period of building trust. For a few sessions, you're just sort of getting to know each other and seeing if you'll work well together. You don't just open right up and cry. But that's what happens here. The second "appointment," and fake-Barbra is crying about her father and being held and comforted by Dale. This isn't just a confusing difference when, in the next appointment, they talk about fashion and makeup routines, but it's an insult to how therapy works. And it's so strange because this author has a PhD and is a professional psychoanalyst, like I've already mentioned.
Long story short, if I could give it zero stars, I would. Not only are all the characters out of touch with any sort of reality outside the author's imaginations and fantasies, but the editing is awful, the grammar is questionable, and the whole affair just leaves a bad taste at the back of the throat. I'll give this pile of purple-prose daydream table-scraps one thing: it makes me want to read Barbra Streisand's memoir (which, incidentally, was released the same year as this "book") so I can get to actually know the woman behind Funny Girl and YentlIn fact, I might just read some of the books this author used as references.
I'm giving this book 1 out of 4 stars.
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Barbra Streisand: On the Couch
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