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kblincoln's review against another edition
5.0
As I read the last chapter of this book, snuggled up against my 12 year old daughter, I started telling her how lucky she was to be the younger of my two daughters. I wrestled with the prevailing United States wisdom of the day about when babies should sleep apart as well as when it was weird to not be potty trained.
Luckily, I had the advantage of living when my girls were young in Tokyo, where attachment parenting and sleeping together in family units was the norm, and so when girl1 cried her eyes out for hours on the night we tried to get her to sleep by herself, I decided that an entire country of people who are not sleep-deprived and can go the bathroom just fine, thank you, couldn't be wrong.
Harry Harlow, the "hero" of this look at the way psychology in the 50's thru 70's treated infant development in terms of love vs isolation, didn't have the advantage of seeing Japanese babies literally bundled up and worn in slings by their mothers for most daily activities. Despite the common sense of his times-- that mothers caused Autism, that babies attached to anyone or anything that fed them, that isolation was better hygienically for baby health--he devised an entire program of studies using macaque monkeys that brought us to the common sense attitudes we have today about the importance of touch for babies and the harmful effects of social isolation.
But while 2/3 of the book seems to portray Harry Harlow as a vital, story-telling, passionate researcher who created more-humane-than-most conditions for his primates in his Wisconsin lab, the last third casts a darker shadow.
Harry Harlow's experiments are fascinating (baby monkeys reared with a cloth doll or a wire doll as their mother, baby monkeys isolated from all contact for months, normal monkeys who became depressed and exhibited psychopathic behavior after being thrown into a "pit of despair" funnel box, etc). But the last third of the book challenges the reader on the ethical and moral questions underpinning research that causes such distress.
Whether you wince at the experiment descriptions, or gloss over the suffering of the animals to be reassured by the results supporting the ideas that baby humans need stable, comforting, touching love early on and respond with bravery when faced with freedom later, or are encouraged by experiments with isolated monkeys that received "therapy" and became somewhat normal, the very basic unit of humanity-- our love, our relationships with others-- is a fascinating study.
This book, while possibly seeing Harry Harlow with a tint of rose-colored glasses, and focusing primarily on his healthy years (and not so much his dark, alcoholic years between wives and then death from Parkinson's) and sometimes taking a bit of a poetic license in surmising how the researchers regarded the monkeys, still is quite readable and important part of understanding North American cultural history of the family.
Luckily, I had the advantage of living when my girls were young in Tokyo, where attachment parenting and sleeping together in family units was the norm, and so when girl1 cried her eyes out for hours on the night we tried to get her to sleep by herself, I decided that an entire country of people who are not sleep-deprived and can go the bathroom just fine, thank you, couldn't be wrong.
Harry Harlow, the "hero" of this look at the way psychology in the 50's thru 70's treated infant development in terms of love vs isolation, didn't have the advantage of seeing Japanese babies literally bundled up and worn in slings by their mothers for most daily activities. Despite the common sense of his times-- that mothers caused Autism, that babies attached to anyone or anything that fed them, that isolation was better hygienically for baby health--he devised an entire program of studies using macaque monkeys that brought us to the common sense attitudes we have today about the importance of touch for babies and the harmful effects of social isolation.
But while 2/3 of the book seems to portray Harry Harlow as a vital, story-telling, passionate researcher who created more-humane-than-most conditions for his primates in his Wisconsin lab, the last third casts a darker shadow.
Harry Harlow's experiments are fascinating (baby monkeys reared with a cloth doll or a wire doll as their mother, baby monkeys isolated from all contact for months, normal monkeys who became depressed and exhibited psychopathic behavior after being thrown into a "pit of despair" funnel box, etc). But the last third of the book challenges the reader on the ethical and moral questions underpinning research that causes such distress.
Whether you wince at the experiment descriptions, or gloss over the suffering of the animals to be reassured by the results supporting the ideas that baby humans need stable, comforting, touching love early on and respond with bravery when faced with freedom later, or are encouraged by experiments with isolated monkeys that received "therapy" and became somewhat normal, the very basic unit of humanity-- our love, our relationships with others-- is a fascinating study.
This book, while possibly seeing Harry Harlow with a tint of rose-colored glasses, and focusing primarily on his healthy years (and not so much his dark, alcoholic years between wives and then death from Parkinson's) and sometimes taking a bit of a poetic license in surmising how the researchers regarded the monkeys, still is quite readable and important part of understanding North American cultural history of the family.
jessrock's review against another edition
3.0
Love at Goon Park was very interesting while also very frustrating and incredibly flawed. In the preface, [a:Deborah Blum|16175|Deborah Blum|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1331590529p2/16175.jpg] discusses writing an earlier book ([b:The Monkey Wars|507590|The Monkey Wars|Deborah Blum|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1347474862s/507590.jpg|495614]) that angered people who knew Harry Harlow so much that many of them were wary of ever speaking to her again. She then launches into an entire book on Harry Harlow, much of it quite positive or at least minimally critical of his experiments and of him as a person. It's not till the epilogue that she shares any of the criticisms against him or offers any information that indicates that she might not have been unbiased in her narrative.
With that in mind, Love at Goon Park was still an interesting look at the state of psychology in the first half of the twentieth century and the changes that came about, both intellectually in the field of psychology and practically in hospitals and homes, because of Harry Harlow's studies on affection and touch. Harlow focused specifically on primate research and the relationship between mothers and children, and many of his experiments sound by today's standards to be unnecessarily cruel - raising babies with artificial mothers made of cloth or wire, or putting monkeys in total isolation and depriving them of any contact with others. The epilogue wrestles a tiny bit with the question of whether and how we can justify cruelty in experiments if it results in a better understanding of our world, but otherwise the book does not take a critical or questioning stance at all. Likewise, the book also describes Harlow's personal life - his difficulties in his marriages and his failings as a father - but doesn't dwell at all on the irony of the psychologist who studies love and the importance of touch while completely neglecting to interact with his children.
I learned quite a bit from reading Love at Goon Park and so I don't regret reading it, but I do think that the author felt an obligation to speak positively about Harry Harlow in order to gain access to the people she wanted to interview, and that the book was not honest with its readers as a result. The epilogue hints at how a more evenhanded treatment of Harry Harlow might have played out, but that is not the book we received, and I really can't recommend it as a result.
With that in mind, Love at Goon Park was still an interesting look at the state of psychology in the first half of the twentieth century and the changes that came about, both intellectually in the field of psychology and practically in hospitals and homes, because of Harry Harlow's studies on affection and touch. Harlow focused specifically on primate research and the relationship between mothers and children, and many of his experiments sound by today's standards to be unnecessarily cruel - raising babies with artificial mothers made of cloth or wire, or putting monkeys in total isolation and depriving them of any contact with others. The epilogue wrestles a tiny bit with the question of whether and how we can justify cruelty in experiments if it results in a better understanding of our world, but otherwise the book does not take a critical or questioning stance at all. Likewise, the book also describes Harlow's personal life - his difficulties in his marriages and his failings as a father - but doesn't dwell at all on the irony of the psychologist who studies love and the importance of touch while completely neglecting to interact with his children.
I learned quite a bit from reading Love at Goon Park and so I don't regret reading it, but I do think that the author felt an obligation to speak positively about Harry Harlow in order to gain access to the people she wanted to interview, and that the book was not honest with its readers as a result. The epilogue hints at how a more evenhanded treatment of Harry Harlow might have played out, but that is not the book we received, and I really can't recommend it as a result.
apatrick's review against another edition
4.0
Biography of the man who ran the experiments showing monkeys preferred require "contact comfort" - affection - to survive. A heartbreaking and illuminating book.
lizdesole's review against another edition
5.0
Because of the time period covered, this biography manages to cover most of the 20th century "professionals" approach to child-rearing. At the beginning of the century, as the field of psychology was struggling to be recognized as a "real science", the experts were trying to reduce baby's emotions to pure conditioned response (in other words, only the milk mattered). Then came the backlash, pioneered by this entertaining and sometimes infuriating man ( and his wives) Henry (Israel) Harlow.
Although some of the descriptions of his primate studies can be really herd to read as a feeling person, the book retains a wonderful sense of humor. It can be rather judgmental at times, but overall is pretty balanced.
As an author, Deborah Blum does an amazing job of keeping it interesting and informative. The most entertaining thing honestly though is the entire climate at the time though. Any parent ( and most others as well) will have "duh" moments when reading how these primate researchers proved to other psychologists that love matters to us all.
Although some of the descriptions of his primate studies can be really herd to read as a feeling person, the book retains a wonderful sense of humor. It can be rather judgmental at times, but overall is pretty balanced.
As an author, Deborah Blum does an amazing job of keeping it interesting and informative. The most entertaining thing honestly though is the entire climate at the time though. Any parent ( and most others as well) will have "duh" moments when reading how these primate researchers proved to other psychologists that love matters to us all.
arielleali's review against another edition
5.0
This is a great book. I normally don't read biographies, but this was so well-written and contained so many interesting studies about the history and psychology of love, that I was riveted. Harry Harlow's life and writing give structure to the story. Overall, I would recommend this book to anyone.
thuja's review
3.0
A very interesting and balanced overview of a psychologist that I'd never heard of before, although I'd heard of the cloth mother study at some point in the past.