What Craig Clevenger’s The Contortionist’s Handbook Means to Me

By Sebastian Vice

This is not a book review. To be completely honest, I don’t know how to review books. Sure, I’ve left positive comments that are called “reviews,” but there are people much more skilled than I.

I just know what I like, and what hits a sensitive core within me.

The Contortionist’s Handbook (CH) struck that core.

So this isn’t a review, but an explanation of why this novel worked for me. I apologize in advance to those who’ve heard this before. Regardless, here’s why CH came to me at the right time in my life.

First, a brief aside. Books, movies, and music sometimes come to you at the right time. Conversely, the opposite is true. Sometimes a book comes to one at the wrong time. The Great Gatsby came to me in high school. I hated it. My adolescent mind, formed under poverty, had no interest in reading about rich assholes. It wasn’t until I read it again in my early 30s I had a deeper appreciation of the novel.

One’s state of mind influences how something hits us. I think we know this. Ever gone back to a movie or book from childhood only to discover you hated it? The book or movie didn’t change. You did. All this is to say when reading a book (or watching a movie), I’d encourage a sensitivity to your state of mind.

Back to The Contortionist’s Handbook.

A small preamble. Yes, the writing is exquisite. Yes, the plot is outstanding. Yes, the characters are engaging. Yes, the noir and crime elements hit hard (it’s far more noir than transgressive fiction—if you’re expecting Lolita, Crash, Requiem For A Dream, Geek Love, etc., you’ll be disappointed). However, for me, this was icing on the cake. When I started reading, what captured my ADHD mind weren’t these elements. What laser focused my attention, what snapped me out of my ADHD, were the sections of our ever-name-shifting protagonist getting one over on a psychiatric evaluator.

To those of you with positive experiences with therapists and psychiatrists, bless you. Power to you. And nothing I am about to say is designed to detract or denigrate your experience, or negate the ways they helped you work through problems. That said, many of us haven’t been so lucky. For many of us, we’ve experienced either incompetence, or worse, active psychiatric abuse. In my case, I’ve experienced both. In fact, I’ve experienced both almost exclusively.

I was recovering from a psychiatrist who thought the bulk of my troubles were due to atheism. Rather than addressing my real issues (existential depression, anxiety, OCD, ADHD, abandonment issues, PTSD), he thought my problems were reducible to theology.

I suspect he thought: get some Jesus, and you’ll be better.

Sessions were filled with worthless religious discussions, rather than addressing actual issues (I grew up Catholic, and went to Catholic schools most of my youth. I’ve had enough Christianity).

Long story short, eventually I told him to go fuck himself, and that I wouldn’t be gaslighted into believing in magic as a substitute for legitimate therapeutic techniques.

The way I presented my experience may not sound traumatic. And surely there are worse cases of psychiatric misconduct. However, when I’m begging someone to help me with issues, and I get: go read Thomas Aquinas (whom ive read and whom has zero therapy value—what, his five causes are supposed to help me with PTSD? Get the fuck outta here), what more can I say?

Everyone is full of biases, and I’m no different. I probably have an irrational dislike of clinical psychologists. And I admit this is one of my prejudices (no doubt there are outstanding therapists—so I’m told).

Again, let’s shift back to CH.

Reading our ever-name-shifting protagonist methodically read the evaluator, and bullshit him successfully was incredibly affirming. Dare I say it was revenge by proxy. I loved every sentence of those sections.

As I said:

Yes, the writing is exquisite.

Yes, the plot is tight and executed by a master of his craft.

Yes, the noir and crime elements were strong

But no, these elements aren’t what I remember most.

What I remember most is feeling validated. I didn’t know Craig at the time, but it was as if those psychiatric evaluation sections were written just for me (obviously they weren’t, but it’s how it felt). And coming down from another failed therapy experiment, reading someone methodically expose a psychologist as a bullshit artist was just what I needed.

Craig made me feel seen. Though I’d never interacted with him at that point, he made me feel less alone.

I think I’ve droned on enough. So I’ll end with this. I wanted to tell Craig how I felt about CH. In the last 20 years, there are three books that stick out as masterpieces. Tender is the Flesh, Too Many Things Came to Nothing, and The Contortionist’s Handbook.

I DMed Craig on twitter, and never expected him to respond. As the saying goes: never meet your heroes, because rarely are they as you expect. With Craig, I was met with a warmness so often lacking in this world. I told him what CH meant to me, and he said something like: I hope you find peace.

Craig is the full package. He’s a master of his craft (this isn’t even debatable) who radiates compassion, empathy and kindness. In this business, such a person is rare.

I’m a better person for not only reading his work, but also talking with him. He’s done things for me and Outcast Press that transcend kindness.

And yes, you can bet when Mother Howl drops, I’ll be all over that. And if you’re a noir and crime fiction fan, you should too. Hell, even if you aren’t a noir or crime fiction fan, do yourself a favor and read his work.

Amy Hempel’s work is a masterclass on short stories

Craig’s work is a masterclass on novels.

To end, next post will be a paid subscriber one. As I said before, my plan is to have two posts a week. One free, one paid. All proceeds generated will go to funding Outcast Press. Regardless of your subscription mode, I appreciate all of you.