Traig, Jennifer. Devil in the Details: Scenes from an Obsessive Girlhood. New York: Little, Brown and Company, 2004. 5¾ x 8½. 246 pages. 1 photograph. Hardcover. 0-316-15877-1.

Reviewed by Laurie Clements Lambeth, University of Houston

When she was 12 years old, Jennifer Traig's obsessive-compulsive tendencies took hold. She was repeatedly washing her hands and mouth until they were cracked and bleeding. She was starving herself. And then she found halachah, Jewish law: "Suddenly I wasn't just washing; I was purifying myself of sin. I wasn't just patting things; I was laying on hands. Now my rituals were exactly that: rituals" (p. 6).

Devil in the Details depicts Traig's own form of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD), scrupulosity (a condition she's pleased to share with a handful of saints), with verve and wit. Afraid she will go to Hell if she chews her nails, mixes meat with dairy, wears polyester blend fabrics, or shops on the Sabbath, the pre-teen Traig performs obsessive-compulsive ruminations on a religious scale, and for a religious purpose. Hence, her OCD symptoms find justification in religious observance, and after her father finds her swirling all her belongings in the washing machine because they carried the taint of bacon fumes, she recognizes it. The young Jennifer strives to understand the technicalities of halachah at the same time she is also trying to comprehend the urges pulsing through her neurons. It seems that through writing this book, Traig is puzzling through many of the misconceptions and labels, both religious and psychiatric, that she had encountered during her teen years. As much a memoir of her two-religion household as it is about Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, the book offers some striking similarities between mental illness and religious observance, compulsion and ritual, but refrains from exploring the matter in great depth.

The author aptly characterizes OCD as a condition in which one gets caught in "neural loops" (p. 26), like "hamsters on treadmills, all industrious activity with nothing to show for it" (p. 25). Writers of memoir can get stuck in much the same way. One way in which she interrupts these repetitive loops is through well-placed interstitial sections. For the most part, the main chapters of the book present a lens through which we can view Traig's experience externally. Often, the chapters follow the same emotional pattern, and there is distance between the speaker and the reader. The interstitial sections work to close that distance. Presumably parodying her Crafty Girl series of how-to books for young adults, Traig delivers games, recipes, and craft ideas that bring the reader into her experience more directly, partially because "you" are told to perform these tasks as she would. My favorite is entitled, "Fun Things You Can Make with Kleenex," in which the author teaches the reader how to craft protective hats, gloves, and cushions out of hygienic tissue paper. Another, "Help Jenny Get to Homeroom: A Maze," offers both a visual and verbal maze of hand washings, stain removal, and atonements that eventually make Jenny late for class. Traig lets loose in these sections with a tremendous level of obsessive detail which conveys the depth of her OCD experience, while also maintaining a sense of humor.

Jennifer Traig's tongue appears to be firmly planted in her cheek (figuratively, of course) throughout Devil in the Details. Many of her jokes are quite masterful and laugh-out-loud funny in their absurdity. Responding to her family's reaction to her compulsions, she writes, "I had become the Jenny Show, a kooky sitcom, wacky high jinx twenty-four hours a day. Sure, I mostly aired repeats, but I was the only thing on" (p. 17). This book is full of such good-natured comedy. But quite often in The Jenny Show, Jenny—the author—is the butt of the joke. Actually, nearly anything in this book is up for ridicule, but the humor related to her OCD masks the humiliation and bewilderment she describes in more serious passages. Straddling the border between humor and minstrelsy, Traig often attempts to externalize her experience of OCD in order to universalize it, or to make the reader comfortable. Her diction, at times elevated, at others, overtly colloquial, indicates that this might be a concern of hers. The humor can wear thin, at times. She presents brilliantly outrageous situations, but falls short of transcendence. Devil in the Details is indeed moving, but mostly with reference to the memoir at hand. Seldom is there a move toward a larger idea. Too often, chapters follow the same dramatic and emotional pattern, with all conflicts resolved before closing, risking authenticity. However, there is still much to praise in this clever book, and much to look forward to from its author.