Why Not Thirteen Reasons Why?
Why Not Thirteen Reasons Why?
From the Editor
There has been tremendous media coverage of Thirteen Reasons Why, this spring’s new fictional Netflix series (based on a book of the same name published about a decade ago) about the aftermath of the suicide of a 15-year-old girl. For those of you who either haven’t seen the series or haven’t heard media coverage about it, the 13 reasons are a series of 13 audiotapes made by the character, Hannah Baker, to be listened to by the 13 people she felt in some way contributed to her decision to kill herself.
The media coverage of the show has ranged from critiques about the script, the acting, the initial one-dimensional portrayal of many characters, the series ploys to keep the viewer watching, and the content. Other reviews have lauded the portrayal of the insecurity, alienation, shifting loyalties and relationships, and labile emotions many viewers will either remember from their own high school days, or feel speaks to their current experiences.
Individual mental health clinicians as well as organizations, in press releases and interviews, have criticized the series as somehow glamorizing or romanticizing suicide. They have expressed serious concerns that vulnerable adolescents who watch the series may be influenced to commit suicide.
And some critics have suggested the series communicates an unrealistic message that suicide can be prevented if people are simply nicer to each other, though I think this reflects an incredibly simplistic and superficial reading of the scripts. My own take on this is similar to that of one of the protagonists—especially in the last episode—who expresses his hope for more self-reflection and empathy toward schoolmates and friends.
To me there was no implication that this would be adequate to stop suicide on a broad scale, but I’m sure we’d all agree that it might have some beneficial effect on the atmosphere resulting from the social media harassment and verbal and physical aggression that seems epidemic in some school settings, and which clearly stresses all—not just the most vulnerable adolescents.
I’m not here to serve as a TV or movie critic, although I am very familiar with the legitimate fears about the potential for an increase in adolescent suicides among those exposed to the show due to the effects of a social contagion. This phenomenon has been well described following other spikes in adolescent suicide. Some will remember, in this regard, the repeated episodes of group suicides by Japanese teenagers some years ago. There is, actually, an indication that this even occurs within the series itself to one of Hannah’s former friends after her suicide.
On the other hand, after having watched the entire series, I think some of the critics must have watched a different show than I did. Yes, the series uses the usual plot trick of cliff-hanger endings to maximize the likelihood you’ll come back for the next episode, but I most often found the show compelling, tense, sad, and heart-wrenching. I think some of the hyperbole in the media is misplaced.
At the end of the series, we actually know very little about Hannah Baker beyond her suicide. We know she was bullied, subjected to public humiliation, and raped, but know little else about who she is as a person beyond these horrific experiences. We actually find out more about a number of the other characters as we learn how they are coping with the aftermath of her suicide and the presence of the tapes. Hannah’s significant depressive symptoms are relayed through the various episodes, and up to almost the last moment, we learn she still has ambivalence about killing herself and is looking for a lifeline she finally concludes isn’t coming.