Since reading it three weeks ago, I have given copies of Greg Bottoms' Angelhead to several people who I thought would enjoy it. Like me, they each devoured the book in one sitting. I discussed Angelhead with a colleague over drinks last night--neither of us could come up with quite the right words to convey our feelings toward this singular work. We batted around "amazing," "gripping," and "shocking," and yet none of these quite bestow upon Angelhead the accolades it deserves. From his early childhood, the author's brother Michael exhibited erratic behavior and hinted at the social marginalization that would define his future. As an adolescent Michael experimented with drugs; these experiments, which coincided with his love of the heavy metal music of his early-'80s youth, soon spiraled out of control and his behavior grew increasingly violent. His teenage years were marked by suicide attempts, psychotic episodes, petty crimes, and isolation from his family, friends, and self until, at the age of 19, Michael was diagnosed with schizophrenia. The culmination of this difficult decade was a crime of violence against his family so grave that Michael wound up in the psychiatric ward of a maximum security prison. With compassion, insight, and unrelenting honesty, Greg Bottoms paints a picture of a family unraveled by this terrible--and often misunderstood--illness that seized one of its members and didn't let go. His writing is nearly flawless--he conveys love, loss, fear, and sorrow without ever sacrificing his eloquent prose or veering toward self-pity. Angelhead is a brilliant work from a writer who has risen above personal tragedy to craft a compelling memoir about his brother's descent into darkness. In this issue of Bold Type, read an excerpt from Angelhead and an original essay from its author. --Laura Buchwald
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