I realised halfway through Case Study by Graeme Macrae Burnet, that the ‘story’ went well beyond the novel I held in my hands. It’s one of those books that, as I was reading, I was side-tracked by internet searches. And if you’ve read Case Study, you’ll know that the Googling (and I absolutely couldn’t help myself) highlights just how clever Burnet is.

Case Study is told from three perspectives. It begins with Burnet, who describes how he came across charismatic psychotherapist Collins Braithwaite, and was then contacted by a stranger in possession of notebooks belonging to one of Braithwaite’s patients. The stranger urged Burnet to tell the patient’s story and, although Burnet was initially concerned about the authenticity of the notebooks, he did some fact-checking and took on the task.

The notebooks belonged to a young woman who believed that Braithwaite drove her sister to suicide. In her effort to prove his unethical methods, the woman creates an alter ego for herself, who she names Rebecca Smyth, and becomes a patient of Braithwaite.

I have decided to write down everything that happens, because I feel, I suppose, I may be putting myself in danger.

Rebecca’s psychotherapy sessions are described in parallel with the woman’s ‘real’ life, which is conservative and strictly controlled by her father. Within a short time, the imaginary life of Rebecca is far more attractive than her actual staid existence, and she inhabits the persona outside of the therapy room, with some interesting consequences that highlight themes of desire, ego and expectations.

Although Braithwaite is not aware of the ruse, he recognises Rebecca is not being entirely forthcoming.

You can be sure that every client that has ever walked into a therapist’s office has already mentally played out the scene a hundred times, and the idea of leaving without having touched on the very thing that has brought them there is unthinkable.

The story moves back and forth between the woman’s therapy sessions, and the history of Braithwaite’s career. The book is predominantly set in London in the 1960s, but also refers to Braithwaite’s time at university, and his relationship with contemporaries such as R.D. Laing and Robert Linder.

As a therapist, you are thanked for saying things that would earn a guy in a bar a punch on the jaw.

That I struggled to identify what was fact and what was fiction in Case Study is testament to Burnet’s skill and I think allowing myself to overthink (i.e. Google) every detail added to the fun. There’s no real smoke and mirrors on Burnet’s part – he states from the outset his doubts about the authenticity of the notebooks; he describes Braithwaite’s unorthodox opinions; and the notebooks themselves demonstrate Rebecca’s increasingly erratic behaviour. Who to trust? The answer is that you’re safe in the hands of Burnet, a marvelous storyteller.

I received my copy of Case Study from the publisher, Text Publishing, via NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.

3.5/5 Clever.

<i>Case Study</i> is a perplexing read because I'm not entirely sure what parts of this book are fiction or non-fiction.

The book is written in first person and centres around 'Dr' (Arthur) Collins Braithwaite, a controversial Scottish therapist (rising to some fame in the mid 1960s) who doesn't really seem to believe in therapy and wrote about it in his book, <i>Untherapy</i>.

<i>Case Study's</i> narrator has blogged about Braithwaite we learn, and undertaken some other research in the hope of publishing something more about him. He's then contacted by someone (who wishes to remain anonymous) who has some notebooks to cast further light on the therapist.

The five notebooks are introduced (in full) into the narrative. They're ostensibly written by a young woman whose sister had been treated by Braithwaite and who suicided. Wanting to expose or find evidence against Braithwaite, the young woman adopts a fake name and personality and starts to visit him as a patient (or 'visitor' as he calls his patients). She's fascinating and as we start to learn more about her life (and that of her sister) she finds she enjoys being Rebecca and readers are given front row seats as she starts to splinter.

The author of <i>Case Study</i>, GMB wrote about 'Dr' Arthur Collins Braithwaite on his site in 2019 in <i>The Strange Cases of Maeder and Braithwaite</i>, so I gather he is our narrator and this is a biography of sorts. Indeed, my extensive research (ie. google) informed me Braithwaite really did exist and wrote <i>Untherapy</i>.

What's not clear however is <i>what</i> is fiction. Given GMB himself calls this book a novel I'm assuming the notebooks are fictional, although there's a scene at the end that muddies those waters a little. (Although at the same time offering some closure.)

I don't usually read non-fiction and was accordingly less interested in the background information and detail gleaned from interviews about Braithwaite and his life. I was however fascinated by the story of the young woman. She's brutally honest and delightfully droll. And the sessions she has with Braithwaite are very enlightening.

I actually marked A LOT of paragraphs as I enjoyed the insight they offered and think that's the strength of this book. As an overthinker I'll certainly be pondering some of points raised - about our sense of self and becoming more or less-so, and about control, oppression and repression.

3.5 stars

I think I was simply the wrong audience for this book. I didn’t like it at all. As best as I can make out the book is a blend of fact (the therapist A. Collins Braithwaite did exist and the book details his rather lurid life) and fiction in the form of 5 notebooks which make up the case study. If any of that is wrong I simply don’t care. There are other, more positive reviews, of the book and I would encourage you you read them.

The case study comes about as an unnamed narrator calling herself Rebecca Smyth starts seeing the therapist her sister, Veronica, was seeing 2 years ago and whom she blames for inciting her sister’s suicide. The point of that is unclear to me. The point of the book was unclear to me. The characters were all odious. Braithwaite was nothing but a pretentious twat, although he readily acknowledged that. Rebecca started to get confused about where her ‘self’ ended and Rebecca began. However I did not care about Rebecca or whoever she really was either as she came across as a pretentious twat as well.

This was supposedly set in the 1960s. I was around them, albeit very young but I really can’t remember people speaking like Rebecca or being so self absorbed. Maybe it was because I am a heathen Aussie but my memories of that era and into the 70s is of not giving a fig what people thought. We just did what we wanted and had a good time. I never spent long in front of a mirror obsessively examining my face and clothing, I was just anxious to get of the door and party, nobody gave a toss about appearances. It read as set at least a decade earlier. And maybe the author was trying to make some point that escapes me or he is not able to channel a young woman as well as he thinks. Oooh controversial!

Anyway I found it all very long-winded, boring and full of irrelevant details. Thanks to Netgalley and Text Publishing for the much appreciated arc which I reviewed voluntarily and honestly.

‘Towards the end of 2019 I received an email from a Martin Grey of Clacton-on-Sea.’

After writing a blog post about the now forgotten and disgraced 1960s psychotherapist, Collins Braithwaite, the author receives an email from Martin Grey. Mr Grey has a series of notebooks written by his cousin which he considers might form the basis of an interesting book. While the author’s initial response is to decline, Mr Grey believes that there are certain allegations in the notebook which might interest him. The author had been contemplating a biography of Braithwaite but had received little enthusiasm thus far. The author receives five notebooks which he read in a day. The notebooks, written in 1965, allege criminal malpractice by Braithwaite.

And so, the story begins.

The diarist, a young woman, is convinced that Dr Braithwaite killed her sister Veronica two years earlier. Veronica had been consulting Dr Braithwaite and the diarist believes he is responsible for Veronica taking her own life. The diarist has read a case study in Braithwaite’s book ‘Untherapy’, ad is convinced the patient described is her sister Veronica. She assumes an alter ego, Rebecca Smyth, and presents as a client in Dr Braithwaite’s rooms.

Macrae Burnet takes us on an interesting journey through a maze of delusions, secrets, and questions about identity. Braithwaite is egotistical and unlikeable while the diarist starts to assume (for real) the deeply troubled Rebecca she has chosen to present to Braithwaite.

‘She sometimes seemed to forget that without me she would not even exist, but (for once) we were getting on, it did not seem wise to remind her of this.’

References to the psychiatry practiced by R.D. Laing help ground this novel in the 1960s. The (is he fictional, or simply representative?) Braithwaite is jealous of Laing and Laing is contemptuous of him.
The novel shifts between biographical details of Braithwaite and the five notebooks. What is real? What happens to the diarist? Braithwaite is a dangerous charlatan, and his end should come as no surprise — fiction can be wonderful sometimes.

Once again, Macrae Burnett creates a story that feels so real that I want more information about Braithwaite. But I also want to know what happened to the diarist. I was intrigued by the story, fascinated by the characters, and finished the novel wanting (but not needing) more.

Note: My thanks to NetGalley and Text Publishing for providing me with a free electronic copy of this book for review purposes.

Jennifer Cameron-Smith

Case Study is the fourth novel by best-selling award-winning Scottish author, Graeme Macrae Burnet. Two years after her older sister suicides by throwing herself off a railway overpass in Camden, a young woman becomes convinced that notorious psychotherapist A. Collins Braithwaite is responsible for her death. Determined to prove his guilt, she poses as a patient, writing detailed notes of her sessions with him.

Over fifty years later, her cousin Martin “Grey” discovers the five notebooks and offers them to the author, who happens to be researching the psychotherapist with a view to writing a biography of this now-forgotten, disgraced character. At first sceptical, the author eventually decides to supplement his own material with the notebooks because, if nothing else, they tell an interesting story.

The young woman does not reveal her identity in her notebooks. For the purpose of her visits to Braithwaite, she adopts a persona she names Rebecca Smyth, creating for Rebecca an alternate life quite different from her own strictly controlled existence. Rebecca’s life is so attractive, she begins to inhabit it, rather losing sight of her initial objective as she is swept up in Braithwaite’s “therapy”.

This unnamed protagonist is clearly unworldly, her scheme evidence of a naïve arrogance. She is immature with a childlike self-absorption, admitting about herself: “I have understood from an early age that I am an unpleasant and spiteful person. I am unable to see events in any terms other than their benefit or injuriousness to myself.” Her thought processes often prove darkly funny.

With later visits, it’s clear she is losing touch with reality, having conversations and arguments with Rebecca; at one stage she records an exchange with Braithwaite thus:
“’I don’t believe I’ve ever encountered anyone quite as hollow as you. I’m beginning to wonder if you really are who you say you are.’
‘I often wonder the same thing,’ Rebecca responded, rather deftly, I thought. (She is so much brighter than me; I sometimes wonder whether I shouldn’t let her take over completely)”

The last notebook offers no clue as to the young woman’s ultimate fate, but her “progress” during the first four sessions with this unconventional man don’t suggest a promising future. Braithwaite, from the author’s research, is variously described as a “cheerleader for suicide” (having written a book titled Kill Your Self) and a “dangerous charlatan” who, throughout his life, never faltered in his conviction of his own genius.

While readers generally don’t skip over the prologue, many are tempted to ignore any post-script, but, as with previous Macrae Burnet novels, this is unwise as the Post Script forms an integral part of the whole. Once again, very cleverly written, Macrae Burnet’s latest work is thought-provoking, funny and utterly brilliant.
This unbiased review is from a copy provided by NetGalley and Text Publishing.