Dan­ny Evans’s Rage Against the Meshuge­nah is a mem­oir of male depres­sion: what the dis­ease looks and feels like, soci­etal issues that com­pli­cate cop­ing, the sub­tle return of nor­mal­cy that her­alds recov­ery. Evans assumes two jobs here: recount­ing his expe­ri­ence as an instruc­tive exam­ple and offer­ing sup­port and advice for men who find them­selves sim­i­lar­ly stricken.

Evans elab­o­rates his mes­sage of sup­port with unflinch­ing hon­esty and goofy good humor. He writes in a friend­ly, straight­for­ward tone, enlivened by reg­u­lar, and often quite fun­ny, flights into hyper­bol­ic descrip­tion. His obser­va­tions are sharp and live­ly, but his analy­ses are expressed in cliché lan­guage that ren­ders them unre­mark­able. Sure­ly no read­er will be sur­prised to learn that dredg­ing buried child­hood emo­tions is hard but ulti­mate­ly reward­ing work. Evans is con­sis­tent­ly lik­able, but not always com­pelling. 

The most sur­pris­ing and impor­tant moments are when Evans admits that the dis­ease made him not just unhap­py, not just unlik­able, but down­right bad. In a brac­ing and unstint­ing self-exam­i­na­tion, he describes how the numb­ness caused by depres­sion near­ly ruined his rela­tion­ships with his wife and chil­dren — with­out mak­ing excus­es or apolo­gies. In the book’s grit­ti­est and least humor­ous moment, Evans is a fear­less advo­cate for men with depres­sion, reas­sur­ing his read­ers that it’s ok if the dis­ease dimin­ished you — don’t feel ashamed; seek help.