We think we are a self. Separate from the environment and other people. We even write memoirs about our so-called self, and go to therapy to unearth its hidden depths. But the self is not separate. We are made of our relationships with others, writes Elliot Jurist.

Memoirs are proliferating at an extraordinary pace. The genre has become emblematic of our time – revelry in the splendor of the almighty self. Something similar might be said about therapy. Yet memoirs and therapy are usually not just about the self – more often they are about fathoming relationships and refining the meaning of connections with others. This is especially evident in memoirs which discuss therapy, such as recent memoirs by Vivian Gornick, Alison Bechdel and Stephanie Foo. These books make clear that while memoirs and therapy are inescapably indulgent, they need not be self-indulgent.

After all, one can indulge others as well as indulging oneself. This captures what is true about memoir and therapy: although they might portend an orgy of self-gratification, they include a place for recognizing and gratifying others.