So it's a novel, right, and it's about one of the last old-school psychoanalysts in New York, and she's old and dying, and nobody does long-term talk therapy any more, so she's like one of the last of her breed. And there's this young volunteer who meets her in this hospice, and the old shrink tells the young volunteer all the stories of her patients, stories she's never told anyone:
A young woman has to kill her cancer-stricken mother when the suicide pills don't work;
A young man and his Orthodox Jewish father are estranged, the son does not call the father on Rosh Hashanah and the father dies on Yom Kippur, unforgiven;
A man's vindictive, paranoid ex-wife accuses him of child abuse, of which he is innocent, and his daughter is taken away --
Epic stories, lifelong stories that play out over the course of decades. The shrink tells the volunteer one story per chapter, and each story is resolved when the shrink gets the patient to recognize their own innocence in the situation. The patients let go of unhelpful guilt and anger and fear. The volunteer's life is profoundly changed, and at the end of the book she starts an institute for psychoanalytic training named after her now-dead mentor.
It'll be my Tuesdays With Morrie! Except I'll call it Mondays and Wednesdays at Noon with Judith. I think this one's big, people -- I smell Oprah!