How Not to Kill Yourself: A Portrait of the Suicidal Mind

by Clancy Martin Narrated by Clancy Martin

Overview

An intimate, insightful, at times even humorous exploration of why the thought of death is so compulsive for some while demonstrating that there's always another solution-from the acclaimed writer and professor of philosophy, based on his viral essay, “I'm Still Here.”

“If you're going to write a book about suicide, you have to be willing to say the true things, the scary things, the humiliating things. Because everybody who is being honest with themselves knows at least a little bit about the subject. If you lie or if you fudge, the reader will know.”

The last time Clancy Martin tried to kill himself was in his basement with a dog leash. It was one of over ten attempts throughout the course of his life. But he didn't die, and like many who consider taking their own lives, he hid the attempt from his wife, family, coworkers, and students, slipping back into his daily life with a hoarse voice, a raw neck, and series of vague explanations.

In How Not to Kill Yourself, Martin chronicles his multiple suicide attempts in an intimate depiction of the mindset of someone obsessed with self-destruction. He argues that, for the vast majority of suicides, an attempt does not just come out of the blue, nor is it merely a violent reaction to a particular crisis or failure, but is the culmination of a host of long-standing issues. He also looks at the thinking of a number of great writers who have attempted suicide and detailed their experiences (such as David Foster Wallace, Yiyun Li, Akutagawa, Nelly Arcan, and others), at what the history of philosophy has to say both for and against suicide, and at the experiences of those who have reached out to him across the years to share their own struggles.

The result combines memoir with critical inquiry to powerfully give voice to what for many has long been incomprehensible, while showing those presently grappling with suicidal thoughts that they are not alone, and that the desire to kill oneself-like other self-destructive desires-is almost always temporary and avoidable.

*Includes a downloadable PDF of resources and tools for crisis from the book

Editorial Reviews

APRIL 2023 - AudioFile

Clancy Martin begins with a warning about the sensitivity of his subject matter. For many, the topic's intensity and Martin's candor may require beginning the audio slowly, to allow for acclimation. He narrates his memoir about his very personal struggles with alcoholism and suicidal ideation in a calm tone that sometimes edges into unavoidable emotion. His years of alcoholism and 10 suicide attempts give him a wide range that will bring comfort to those in similar straits and understanding to those for whom the subject of suicide is taboo. Martin also weaves in the well-chosen words of others, Buddhism, his belief in the importance of family, parallels between suicide and other addictive behaviors, and details of his hard-won journey to find a way to live. S.W. © AudioFile 2023, Portland, Maine

Publishers Weekly

★ 01/16/2023

Philosopher and novelist Martin (How to Sell) delivers a disturbing and transfixing dissection of suicide and its circumstances. Toggling between the personal and the analytical, Martin presents a patient, chilling consideration of “what it’s like to want to kill yourself, sometimes on a daily basis, yet to go on living,” as well as his “own particular good reasons for doing so.” In three sections, Martin addresses societal conceptions of self-slaughter, his own struggles with alcohol and the times he hit rock bottom, and how to chart a path toward recovery. Along the way, he touches on famous suicides from Seneca to Anne Sexton, and historical and philosophical cases considering or even justifying the act, from philosophies as distinct as Bushido, pessimism, and stoicism. Funny but never flippant, Martin takes into account throughout the weight of his subject, even when describing his own grisly attempts, or those of his friends, without platitude or sentiment (“The last time I tried to kill myself,” the book begins, “was in my basement with a dog leash”). This provocative dive into a difficult subject shouldn’t be missed. Agent: Susan Golomb, Writers House. (Mar.)

From the Publisher

Praise for HOW NOT TO KILL YOURSELF

A Finalist for the Kirkus Prize for Nonfiction

One of The New York Times Book Review’s Critics’ Picks
One of the Boston Globe’s 55 Books We Loved this Year
One of Kirkus's Best Nonfiction Books of The Year
One of TIME’s 100 Must-Read Books of the Year

A New York Times Book Review Editor’s Choice
One of the New York Times’ 9 New Books We Recommend This Week
A Publisher’s Weekly Book of the Week
One of The Millions’ Most Anticipated Books of the Year
One of Lit Hub’s Most Anticipated Books of the Year

“Sui generis . . . a blunt and bracing read . . . as cogent and (yes) rational an account of the mind existing in the shadow of its own self-destruction as I have read . . . For all [Martin’s] focus on suicidal trauma, he is, most fundamentally, trying to write his way out from under it, to create a book not of death but of life.”
—David Ulin, The Atlantic

“I can see [this book] becoming a rock for people who’ve been troubled by suicidal ideation, or have someone in their lives who is, and want to understand the mentality, which can seem utterly mystifying to the unafflicted. Swirling with anguish and argument, tempered by practicality, it airs an often taboo topic with the authority of someone writing what he knows — all too gruesomely well.”
—The New York Times

“Candid and at times haunting . . . an urgent call to reframe how we think about suicide and those who struggle with self-destructive thoughts. Martin is never afraid, delving into his most vulnerable moments in detail to humanize a subject that so many are not able to openly discuss. In doing so, Martin crafts a captivating argument about suffering and survival.
—TIME, “The 100 Must-Read Books of 2023”

“Idiosyncratic, beautiful, and studded with caveats: sometimes this trick won’t work, Martin concedes, and sometimes this other one won’t, either. Even he doesn’t always follow his own advice. It’s an admission of sorts—that so much great literature can be read, that so much work can be done, but that another day to survive is always approaching. The work of choosing to not kill yourself isn’t the act of making that choice one time but making it over and over again.”
—The New Yorker

“There’s no sugarcoating or attempts at the salacious. It’s a deep meditation that searches through Martin’s past looking for answers about why he is the way he is, while also examining the role suicide has played in our culture for centuries, how it has evolved, and how philosophers have examined it.”
—Esquire

"Compelling . . . I admire this book, admire what it wants to do and be.”
—The Washington Post

“One of the more remarkable and lucid explorations of the human instinct for self-annihilation I've encountered since Walker Percy's thought experiments about people he termed ‘ex-suicides’ 40 years ago.”
— Arkansas Democrat Gazette

“A book called How Not to Kill Yourself is not only tough to read on the subway in hardcover, it also seems, at first blush, possibly dangerous for a depressed or suicidal person to read. But even as Martin spares no detail about his depressive episodes or suicide attempts, the book lives up to its ambitious title. Inherent to the hopeful message is Martin’s overarching philosophy that we as a society must eliminate the idea that suicidal or depressive or addictive people are bad or sinful, an idea that’s baked so deeply into our culture we may not even realize it’s there.”
—Emily Gould, Vulture/New York Magazine

“A remarkable book—self-flaying in its honesty, harrowing in its dark narrative turns, clear in its philosophizing, and ultimately consoling in its message of hope. Treating sometimes dangerous material with care, How Not to Kill Yourself is illuminating, riveting, and—for those of us who are suffering, or know people who are—potentially life-savingly helpful.”
—Scott Stossel, author of My Age of Anxiety

“The power and healing in How Not to Kill Yourself . . . is, I think, directly related to the compassion, vulnerability, and straight-up naked guts of author Clancy Martin. [His] offering of his own inner world and failed suicide attempts . . . is a profound service.”
—Lion’s Roar

“A riveting and inspiring read for anyone who has had to keep company with the chthonic feeling that the breath of life is a curse. Martin is one of the few members of the Socratic guild who is also a masterful writer of fiction. His knack for descriptions enables him to bring abstract concepts down to earth.”
— Los Angeles Review of Books

“Offers good counsel and advice, suggesting various ways to cope with self-defeat.”
—The New York Sun

“Thankfully, readers will find hope here in the midst of despair, and the loud message that you are not ever entirely alone.”
—Eureka Springs Times-Echo

 “Th[e] tone—bluntly direct and deeply human—characterizes this remarkable volume, an attempt to bring discussion of suicide out of the shadows so that we can better understand the powerful impulse to kill oneself and how we might circumvent it.. . . It’s not an easy book to read, but it’s an urgently important one.”
—Kirkus

“Feels vitally important because it goes deeply into a conversation about mental health so few of us ever have.”
—Vulture, “8 Great Audiobooks to Listen to This Month”

“Transfixing. . . This provocative dive into a difficult subject shouldn’t be missed.”
—Publishers Weekly, starred review

“[I] found myself both shocked and captivated by [Martin’s] story. . . . How Not to Kill Yourself is in part a memoir . . . But more than that, it’s a primer on literature about suicide, an investigation into whether there is such a thing as a “death drive” and a deeply empathetic advice book for people considering suicide and those who love them.”
—Los Angeles Times

“It had me rapt. It seems rare to see an unambiguously life-affirming book from someone who's been to such dark places.”
—Tao Lin, author of Leave Society

“Disquieting, deeply felt, eye-opening, and revelatory.”
—Kirkus Reviews, starred review

“Written with surprising tenderness and humor, this memoir-cum-critical-inquiry is a perspective-shifting study.”
—The Millions

“A critical memoir diving headfirst into our darkest and most taboo desire.”
—Lit Hub

“Clancy Martin has written an extraordinary, thoughtful book that combines his heartbreaking experience with clear-eyed suggestions. I don’t think I’ve ever read anything quite like it. Required—and, yes, somehow optimistic reading—for anyone interested in this enormous mental health problem.”
— D.T. Max, author of Every Love Story is a Ghost Story: The Life of David Foster Wallace

“In this unusually brave book, Clancy Martin dissects the anatomy of his own suicide attempts and, deploying other people’s stories and a wide range of literary sources, gives voice to the large questions that suicide raises: why some people want to live and others do not; why some fluctuate between the poles; why he is grateful to have survived his attempts but still hears the siren call of self-annihilation.  He writes confidently, philosophically, dramatically, and with great clarity about a life that has been both wondrous and agonizing.”
—Andrew Solomon, author of The Noonday Demon

“Suicide is impossibly difficult to understand but Clancy Martin gives first-person insight into why some choose to kill themselves; importantly, he also gives witness to the kind of hard work it takes for a suicidal person to opt for life.”
—Kay Redfield Jamison, author of An Unquiet Mind and Fires in the Dark

“The most honest, complicit, searing, and discomfiting book I’ve ever read about suicide (and I’ve read quite a few—out of purely scholarly interest, of course). All great narratives pose a battle between the force of life and the force of death; How Not To Kill Yourself does this as brilliantly and powerfully as any book I have encountered in quite some time. Thrilling and useful.”
—David Shields, author of The Thing About Life Is That One Day You'll Be Dead

“How Not to Kill Yourself is devastating and encyclopedic. Martin offers his own story, full of dangerous challenges and surprising lessons, and gives the reader many ways to think about suicide—the problem in literature, the problem in history, the problem in daily life.”
—Donald Antrim, author of One Friday in April: A Story of Suicide and Survival

“Clancy Martin reminds us that the most existential questions around suicide—what drives a person to want to die and what has kept them alive—are not answered by the act itself but by people like him, who have long suffered and are authentically seeking what it means to go on living. He fearlessly and relentlessly asks these questions of himself and is thankfully here today to offer his many valuable lessons, both for those who are struggling with thoughts of suicide and those who work to help them.”
—Dr. John S. Draper, Former Project Director of the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline network

“The book is both helpful and harrowing, asking readers to do what Martin says, not what he has done.”
—Publishers Weekly, “Clancy Martin Explains ‘How Not to Kill Yourself’

APRIL 2023 - AudioFile

Clancy Martin begins with a warning about the sensitivity of his subject matter. For many, the topic's intensity and Martin's candor may require beginning the audio slowly, to allow for acclimation. He narrates his memoir about his very personal struggles with alcoholism and suicidal ideation in a calm tone that sometimes edges into unavoidable emotion. His years of alcoholism and 10 suicide attempts give him a wide range that will bring comfort to those in similar straits and understanding to those for whom the subject of suicide is taboo. Martin also weaves in the well-chosen words of others, Buddhism, his belief in the importance of family, parallels between suicide and other addictive behaviors, and details of his hard-won journey to find a way to live. S.W. © AudioFile 2023, Portland, Maine

Kirkus Reviews

★ 2023-01-21
A recovering alcoholic reflects on his experiences with suicidal ideation.

Novelist and philosophy professor Martin, the author of How To Sell and other books, has survived more than 10 suicide attempts. In his disturbing, thoughtfully composed self-analysis, the author admits to chronicling oscillating between hating his life and being grateful to be alive. Married three times and the father to five children, Martin harbors a deep understanding of others who suffer with the same dark feelings of despair, including several suicidal relatives in his deeply dysfunctional family. Each of the memoir’s three sections correspond to distinctly pivotal periods in his life. The author considers how complex and pervasive thoughts of self-annihilation initially infiltrate someone’s psyche. While mining his own experiences, including chilling anecdotes about his “gun-in-mouth phase,” he describes the suicidal histories of notable writers and celebrities (Kate Spade, Anthony Bourdain, Robin Williams). While experts impart captivating psychological explanations, Martin’s perspective inspires the most incisive and disquieting passages. Sections on his murky descent into alcoholism smoothly dovetail with accounts of the author’s candid, heartfelt work toward making peace with life and pages of proactive “tools for crisis” for anyone considering suicide. As a philosopher, Martin provides sharp insight about how two distinct historical luminaries—Buddha and Freud—both postulated that the human “death drive” is as fundamental to our psychology as our desire to eat or have sex. Martin’s belief that suicidal people can “see into the world of ghosts in a way that sturdier folks cannot” is as fascinating as his attempts to draw correlations between suicide and theories on addictive thinking. Not one to gloss over any aspect of his difficult journey, the author dissects the thorny dilemma that has tormented him since childhood. With dark humor intact, he humanizes it in a way that makes it palatable for readers chronically haunted by suicide—or those whose lives have been touched by it.

Disquieting, deeply felt, eye-opening, and revelatory.

Product Details

BN ID:	2940174885332
Publisher:	Penguin Random House
Publication date:	03/28/2023
Edition description:	Unabridged
Sales rank:	817,443

Read an Excerpt

1 The Suicidal Mind
 
“You know what’s funny? Your jail anklet saved your life. They should put that in an advertisement. They should get a testimonial from you. If it weren’t for that anklet, you’d be dead right now.”
 
I came to in a hospital bed with a sore head. I reached into my hair and felt the staples in my scalp. A handsome young darkhaired doctor with a bushy moustache and brightly lit, amused eyes was standing at the side of my bed conversing cheerfully with me. I didn’t know how long he’d been talking or if I had been talking back. I seemed to be joining the conversation midstream. But that might have been his manner: perhaps he simply launched into conversation with his patients and let them catch up when they were ready. I was very thirsty, and still nervously fingering those metal staples, I reached with my free hand for the large plastic cup of water on the bedside table. Then I realized that I was handcuffed to the bed.
 
“Here, let me get it for you.” He tucked the bottle between the bed rail and the pillow and bent the plastic straw into my mouth. I drank the water and then spat out the straw. My throat was burning.
 
“Did I have an operation?” I asked.
 
“No, you were very lucky. Two minor procedures.” He reached over to gesture at my head, where my staples and my fingers were. “You must have fallen at some point. Your head was bleeding. Quite a nasty cut. You have a mild concussion. You’ll probably be experiencing some dizziness and nausea.”
 
This was my second concussion in less than a year. Seven months before, I’d fallen down some stairs while drunk and had staples on the other side of my head. I couldn’t remember either accident. I remembered taking all the Valium and getting the knife, climbing into the clawfoot bathtub, and keeping my leg hanging out, bent at the knee. I remembered having trouble juggling a glass of wine, the knife, and my phone. I remembered being at Davey’s Uptown Rambler’s Club before coming home and resolving to kill myself that night. But I didn’t remember how I got back from the bar.
“My throat hurts more than my head. My voice,” I said. “I sound awful. I don’t feel sick.”
 
“We had to pump your stomach, but basically you’re fine. I’m sorry we have to shackle you. They will transfer you to the psychiatric ward tomorrow, and then this security won’t be necessary. You ruined your fancy anklet.” He laughed. He was a very likable doctor. “It seems to have short- circuited. But not before it sent o its alarm. Modern technology.”
 
I wanted to explain about the anklet, that it wasn’t a court-ordered thing, it was something I was trying on my own to keep myself sober, but I realized that any extra details from me would sound defensive and anyway were superfluous.
 
Some years later a good friend, a famous scholar of ancient languages, would tell me, “You know lots of people think that a suicide attempt is just a cry for help. A way to get attention. I know that’s not true, because when I woke up in the hospital and realized I was still alive, I was gutted.” That was how I felt: depressed, very disappointed and even more disgusted with myself. Not sad that I’d tried suicide again but miserable that I’d once again failed.
 
“Next time, don’t get in the bath. Better yet, don’t have a next time, would you? We’d like to keep you around. And if you want to kill yourself, don’t use pills. Nobody dies from overdosing on pills anymore.” Bizarrely, he discoursed for a minute or two on how best to kill oneself. “There’s even a book you can buy that tells you how.”
 
I knew the book he meant. It’s called Final Exit. I don’t recommend it.
 
“But you know, you were very lucky, and most people wise up after one attempt. So maybe this can be your get- out- of- jail-free card. That’s how I’d approach it. You take care. Try to behave yourself. Things will get better.”
 
He grabbed my foot, shook it gently, even affectionately, shrugged, and left the room.
 
I thought, Well, that was actually kind of nice. It was a much more pleasant encounter than you’d expect with a doctor after you’d attempted suicide. That guy ought to be training others on how to deal with people in my situation.
 
I had an IV in my arm. There was a phone by the bed, but I couldn’t reach it, because it was on the handcuffed side. I had a nurse alert button by my hand, but I didn’t want to beep a nurse to help me make a phone call.
 
“Three weeks ago I was in bed at home with my girlfriend,” I said out loud, theatrically, to the empty hospital room. “Three weeks ago everything was normal.”
 
But that wasn’t the truth. My life had been abnormal for a long time.

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