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In Cambridge, Kaysen typically spends mornings working at her electric typewriter, with Miss Bliss, her tabby, curled up nearby. She sporadically sees a psychologist she refers to as "my tune-up woman." Money is no longer a problem; the rights to the book have already been optioned to Hollywood. Still, literary success doesn't bring everything. Kaysen was divorced in her 20s, and she confides, "The best-seller list doesn't get you a date, so don't hope."
As Kaysen becomes famous for writing a confessional book, it is her reticence that is most striking. She avoids public-policy debates about Prozac and mental-health coverage. "People think I'm a psychology expert, but I'm not," she says. "I'm a writer." Despite an appearance on Oprah, she has no intention of becoming a poster child for mental illness. "I don't believe I have any obligation to let people into my private life," she says. This may seem like a curious attitude for someone who has made public her years in a mental hospital, but even in her book, Kaysen maintains a distance. She does not answer nearly as many questions as she raises, including the ultimate one of whether she should have been hospitalized at all. Nor does she dwell on the details of her own history. Instead Kaysen concentrates on describing what life in a psychiatric ward is really like. That approach gives Girl, Interrupted its feeling of universality and makes Kaysen seem like Everypatient to a grateful readership.