In 1968 Howland was thirty-one, a single mother of two young sons, struggling to support her family on the part-time salary of a librarian; and laboring day and night at her typewriter to be a writer. One afternoon she swallowed a bottle of pills. This is her exploration of the community of Ward 3, the psychiatric wing of the Chicago hospital where she was admitted. Her memoir was the record of a defining moment in a her life. The book itself would...

"Six months before he died in Budapest, Tim Fuller turned to his daughter: "Let me tell you the secret to life right now, in case I suddenly give up the ghost." Then he lit his pipe and stroked his dog Harry's head. Harry put his paw on Dad's lap and they sat there, the two of them, one man and his dog, keepers to the secret of life. "Well?" she said. "Nothing comes to mind, quite honestly, Bobo," he said, with some surprise. "Now that I think about...