One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

My own personal time in a psych ward was exactly not like this at all.

However, when it comes to Ken Kesey's novel, it presents a completely different and captivating picture.

5 stars. I have a great affection for a good tall tale. In this story, the hero is as strong as an oak, symbolizing unwavering strength and durability. He is also as broad as the countryside, representing a vast and unrestricted spirit.

Moreover, I love a good anti-authority "screw the establishment, freak out the squares" story. Kesey's novel excels in this regard. It challenges the traditional norms and authority figures, inviting readers to question and rebel.

These elements are the bread and butter of Kesey's novel. Just like its near-mythic protagonist, the novel may be rough around the edges, but it carries a message of great importance. It makes us think about the nature of society, the role of authority, and the power of the individual.

Overall, Kesey's novel is a remarkable work that combines entertainment with deep thought-provoking themes.

A leader is an individual who, either out of sheer madness or profound goodness, willingly takes upon himself the misfortunes of the people. There are very few such foolish men, which perhaps explains the erratic nature of leadership in the world. John Updike said this, not me. I tend to think he is probably right. However, it's a bit unclear how this quote fits in with all the people who have currently placed themselves on political podiums and nominated themselves as leaders (or had themselves nominated).

One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest is a timeless piece of American Literature and a surprising output from a man whose other claim to fame was that he drove a magic bus. Well, not magic in the literal sense, but it was filled with stoned people who wanted to be living art, so there must be at least something mystical about it. In-depth research (from Wikipedia) tells me that the setting of the asylum and the basis for the story come from Kesey's own personal experiences working at an institution in Menlo Park, California. Having looked at some pictures of Kesey in his prime, he probably didn't look out of place.

And so enters Randle Patrick McMurphy into the domain of the unbreakable Nurse Ratched. He strides in blunt and brazen, with a powerful personality that cannot be subdued, shackled, or controlled; like a sort of personable steamroller with a flat cap and tattoos. McMurphy is a potential champion for the cowed inmates of the asylum and a red-haired nemesis of order and control. From the day of his arrival, McMurphy is determined to make his mark, raise up his fellow inmates, and cause chaos. After all, what's the point of being in an asylum if you can't expect a little madness now and then? It's never entirely clear whether McMurphy's assumption of the role of leader is because he expects nothing more than status and financial improvement as a result or because he is genuinely intent on liberating Chief Bromden, Bibbits, Harding, Sorensen, Frederikson, and Scanlon, et al., mentally, if not physically.

I can't pretend to dissect this book and peel away the scabrous layers to reveal the hidden depths it purports to hold, but I can highlight a few of my favorite parts.

The breaking of the glass on the nurses' station: repeatedly smashing that almost invisible glass barrier to demonstrate how thin and fragile Nurse Ratched's defenses really are.

The revelation that most of the men are in the asylum voluntarily and can leave at any time, while McMurphy is one of the few who is there to serve a fixed sentence as he has been sectioned. This juxtaposition of roles highlights the differences between McMurphy and the rest of the Acutes. He is the freest of them all, yet he is bound in a different way to the walls of the institution. The rest could leave at any time, but it is only their own limitations that keep them there.

The whole fishing trip episode. All I could think was that Ernest Hemingway would probably have gladly sacrificed his typing fingers for an afternoon of fishing, drinking, and whoring like the one enjoyed by McMurphy's gang that day.

I feel like an idiot for not having read this sooner, but I suffer from my own indecisive madness when it comes to books, and somehow this one always slipped back into the fog before I managed to get it off the shelf.

I think this was my fourth reread of this classic novel about control and resistance to such. However, it was my first time listening to the audiobook.

John C. Reilly did a really good job reading this fiftieth anniversary edition. His performance brought the story to life in a new way. But I couldn't help but notice that some of his line readings owed quite a bit to the movie version. It was as if he was influenced by the film's interpretations.

P.S. I really wish they wouldn’t put music on audiobooks. It can be very distracting and take away from the listening experience. If they really must do it, I wish they’d only play it when the reader isn’t talking. Seriously annoying…

P.P.S. I hereby propose that it be passed into law that it is perfectly acceptable to murder anybody who interrupts you when you’re five minutes from finishing your book. Of course, this is just a joke, but it does express my frustration when someone interrupts my reading time. Reading is such a precious and immersive activity, and being interrupted can really break the flow and concentration.

Overall, despite these small gripes, I still thoroughly enjoyed listening to this classic novel. It's a story that continues to resonate with me on each reread, and the audiobook format added a new dimension to my experience.

Slightly rambling review that may contain mild spoilers. Beware.

This book delves into numerous profound themes. Conformity, mental illness, the status quo, authority, and the agency we possess in our own lives. All these subjects strike a very deep chord within me. I can't fathom why I waited so long to pick up "Cuckoo's Nest": it's been sitting on my shelf for years! I was hooked after just 30 pages. I underlined passages that resonated particularly strongly with me and finished it feeling utterly devastated. I knew the ending wouldn't be a happy, hopeful one. There's something about novels published in the late 60's: so many of them seem to have a bleak conclusion, sending the message that no matter how hard you fight, the system will eventually get you. But regardless of the pessimistic ending, this was an incredible read.

"We are here because we can't deal with our bunniness" says Harding. The patients in this ward struggle to cope with the real world and their place in it. I suppose that's one way to describe the discomfort some people experience when they realize they don't quite fit in the way the rest of the world expects. Is being a round peg in a square hole a form of mental illness? To some people, it obviously is, especially more so in the 60's than now.

I've known quite a few individuals who suffered from mental illness to varying degrees. Much like the characters in "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest", I'm not convinced that mental institutions and medication are the only solutions. Sometimes, the situation is so severe that people are unable to take care of themselves, but other times it's simply a matter of the world having angles that are too sharp for some.

Regarding the misogyny and racism in the book. Yes, they are present, and often not subtly: the book is a product of its time, although I know that's not an excuse. But I'm not sure I see the attack on the "feminization of society" as some critics have claimed. Nurse Ratched is a woman, but it's what she represents that I think ultimately matters. The government and the powers-that-be attempt to present themselves as caring caregivers, but that's just a disguise. I think that was Kesey's main point: she's the head nurse, and her job is theoretically to care for the well-being of the patients in her ward, but what she really wants is to control and sedate them until they behave the way she desires. She represents the wolf in sheep's clothing of institutions (government, religion, etc.) that claim to have the people's best interests at heart, but actually fare better when they can terrorize the masses into doing what they want, while pretending to work for the greater good.

The fact that Kesey chose a woman as his symbol for the Establishment that must be overthrown and that there are no positive, strong female figures anywhere in the book does suggest a rather poor outlook on gender. And the protagonist being a stereotypically obnoxious white guy who wants nothing more than to watch baseball, drink, and grope women can definitely feel uncomfortable at times. But I don't think he intended McMurphy to be an example to follow or a leader. He's not likable, but I'm not sure he was meant to be a hero or a savior. He's supposed to be the sand in the cog, coarse and irritating.

McMurphy's true intention isn't really to liberate his fellow patients; that's a side-effect of his real aim, which is to show that he sees through Nurse Ratched's mask and won't allow himself to be controlled and manipulated. She uses her patients' minds to imprison them, and McMurphy's mind can't be so easily subdued. He wants his fellow inmates to wake up and realize that they too can be free if they stop dancing to Nurse Ratched's tune. The idea that the hell we live in is created by ourselves is brilliantly explored when he realizes that some patients are there of their own volition. When he smashes the glass of the nurses' station, it's not so much about breaking things as it is about showing how illusory her control and power truly are. And when he attacks her, it's because he knows her cruel words have just cost a man his life.

Now, I'm not an advocate of anarchy, and I understand the need for basic rules to keep society functioning - ignoring the rules can be a very selfish act that can potentially endanger others. But being inflexible and inhuman is equally unacceptable. Legal and moral are not the same thing, and they don't achieve the same result, which is what McMurphy, whether consciously or not, shows his fellow patients. Of course, this leads to a rather brutal ending for him: The McMurphys of the world seem to me like sacrificial lambs, sent to be destroyed so that the witnesses can be inspired, "transformed and enlightened" by their actions, and then effect change in their own lives. The patients who leave the ward at the end do so transformed, much more by their encounter with McMurphy than by the years of dedicated "treatment" provided by Nurse Ratched.

I'm not surprised that some people still view this book as subversive. Books that encourage people to question authority and march to the beat of their own drums are always regarded with great suspicion by the rule-makers. This is a flawed, remarkable book that I will never forget, probably read again, and recommend to everyone. You don't have to agree with everything in it: the message it conveys transcends the characters used to tell the story.

This book is truly a disturbing one as it contains blatant racist elements.

The black characters are portrayed in terrible roles with negative attitudes. Moreover, the Indian narrator and McMurphy use offensive terms like "niggers", "colored persons", or "badly whitewashed".

When we consider the characters and their respective backgrounds, we have a complex and powerful book. It is a jumble of emotions and the writing seems capable of anything.

The rich narration comes through one of the reclusive characters, a dispossessed Indian who hides behind false muteness and deafness. He sees things that no one else does and has visions of the past and disturbing foggy visions. This unique perspective adds great depth to the unfolding story.

In the context of more or less controlled madness, the violence of a System, and the rules we are forced to play by, it makes us wonder what we are holding onto and why.

Then McMurphy arrives and turns everything upside down, setting the stage for an interesting show to begin.

The film adaptation corresponds quite well to the course of the book, which is indeed a great work.

It is a book that forces us to confront uncomfortable truths and think about the power dynamics and prejudices that exist in society.

Overall, it is a thought-provoking and impactful piece of literature.

I have a complex love/hate relationship with this book.

The writing and imagery within it are truly superb. I've always been drawn to a moral that goes against tyrannical overloads, generic living, and medicalization. However, its other lesson makes me cringe.

Based on the basic knowledge I have of Ken Kesey, the book ultimately appears very misogynistic and anti-feminist. I wholeheartedly support gender balance, but this book botches up the entire process in a way that deliberately lacks a tongue-in-cheek flair.

Basically, the plot seems to center around men who are mentally castrated by a domineering woman who could just as easily be called "Bitch" as "Big Nurse." Enter the main character - who, in my tattered, yellow-paged, 70's copy, is directly labeled as "the hero of [the book]" on the back cover. This man supposedly shakes up the men regarding the feminization of American culture and how it's destroying their male identities. (Read here: a huge characterization of the male ego is to dominate the female with opposites all around.)

How is this man so easily labeled a hero? Have we forgotten that he has been charged and convicted, among other things, with the rape of a female minor? And the main reason he's in the asylum is to avoid his prison sentence? How is that "masculine," if we are to continue with the stereotypes the book itself perpetuates - and yet backpedals when necessary? Why do we consider him the "main character" when the story is being told in the first person by a Native American? Can one not be a man - a hero - unless one is white? Or perhaps it was because he was so docile?

In the end, the supposed hero of the book teaches men that to cast off impending feminization, one must be violent towards women; push them out of the way, destroy them if they're relentless. If you are unable or fearful of doing so, you're better off killing yourself than being only half of a man. Oh, but wait, there's a special lesson for the ladies too; To avoid eventual rape, assault, murder, or torture - and yes, it will happen - simply sexualize yourself. That's the only way to be safe and - isn't it convenient - securely a woman. So much for individualization and going against cultural norms, gentlemen. You're a dime a dozen.

Before we glorify such a book, we have to sit down and figure out what exactly masculinity is outside of a cultural setting before we can complain that culture itself is taking it away. Are we to allow a cowardly, violent, "looking-out-for-Number-One" individual to give us this definition, fair and balanced?

It's one thing for him to say it, it's another for us to listen.

This novel presents the captivating story of despotic Nurse Ratched, who is employed at Oregon State mental hospital, and McMurphy, a patient who challenges the rules she enforces on the inmates within the hospital. It is regarded as one of the most contentious medical novels ever penned and has been banned numerous times for various reasons.

When the novel was adapted into a movie, multiple actresses declined the role of Nurse Ratched. Everyone was apprehensive about playing her part, fearing it would have a negative impact on their image. Ironically, Louisa Fletcher, who ultimately took on the role, won the Academy Award for best actress, along with her co-star Jack Nicholson, who won for best actor.

This book, both directly and indirectly, reveals a great deal about the healthcare issues prevalent during that era. It holds a significant place in history as it altered the way Americans regarded mental health. Although it is not a flawless book, with several inaccuracies in the author's attempt to recreate a mental institution in the 1960s, the author's personal experience from working in a psychiatric hospital was immensely beneficial in crafting this novel. Without a doubt, this is one of the finest medical novels I have ever read, and its silver screen adaptation is also one of the best movies I have ever seen.

  
    "He knows that you have to laugh at the things that hurt you just to keep yourself in balance, just to keep the world from running you plumb crazy."
  

In 1959, Chief Bromden voluntarily participates in experiments with psychoactive substances in a veteran's hospital and later becomes an orderly in the same psychiatric ward. At that time, research on the use of LSD, cocaine, and other evils was actively conducted. More than a dozen people lost their minds due to these experiments. Those who came voluntarily were actually lucky because they didn't mess around with the patients and just injected whatever they wanted. Those who protested too actively were sent for electroshock procedures. After such "sessions," the patients became vegetables. This doesn't even mention the psychological pressure under which the patients constantly lived.

Chief Bromden decided to embody all his observation and interaction experiences in a novel that truthfully and straightforwardly conveys what he saw.

Those who saw the movie first will be surprised because in the original text, the story is told from the perspective of the silent Indian, Chief Bromden, while in the movie adaptation, the narrator is the unrestrained Randall McMurphy.

This is one of those cases where both works tell the story qualitatively and the experience of reading/watching can be different.

I sincerely recommend it because after reading such texts, the heart is filled with emotions.

Ps: I want to note the high-quality translation by Natalia Tisovskaya. It was a pleasure to read!