Since Gesler first introduced the concept in 1992, the language of 'therapeutic landscapes' has attained a core position in the toolkit of health/place studies. Whilst many authors using the term acknowledge that therapeutic landscapes are often also spaces of contestation, few if any have extended this to incorporate a serious critique of therapy itself. In this article, I use the case study of an 'alternative' psychiatric survivor (self-help) group in the north of England to attempt just this. Based on a ten month period of ethnography, I engage with the spaces - meeting places and venues - occupied by the group, focusing on the dilapidated and reputedly dangerous city park where the group hosts its most regular meetings. Three qualities of these spaces were found to be particularly embraced by the group: spaces of agency and appropriation; a space in the world; and a non-technical relation with space. The article uses these three themes to explore how the unconventional spaces of the group are not mere products of marginality but a serious aspect of mobilising the dissident and 'anti-psychiatric' recovery sought by its members. Through attending to what the survivors' found helpful in the park, a more sensitive rendition of 'anti-psychiatry' as it relates to the group is developed. The therapeutic landscapes framework as put forward by Gesler retains currency in highlighting the importance of place to the processes and identity of the group. However, it is also suggested that the 'dissident topophilias' of the survivors express a critique of current therapeutic landscapes thinking, challenging the supposition that it is the planned, the pleasant and the professional that provide the best backdrops for recovery.

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Despite the long history of beliefs about the therapeutic properties of work for people with mental ill health, rarely has therapeutic work itself been a focus for historical analysis. In this article, the development of a therapeutic work ethic (1813—1979) is presented, drawing particular attention to the changing character and quality of beliefs about therapeutic work throughout time. From hospital factories to radical ‘antipsychiatric’ communities, the article reveals the myriad forms of activities that have variously been considered fit work for people with mental health problems. While popular stereotypes of basket-weaving paint a hapless portrait of institutional work, a more nuanced reading of therapeutic work and its political and philosophical commitments is advanced. The article concludes by arguing that the non-linear and inherently contested development of therapeutic work is less the effect of paradigmatic shifts within the therapeutic professions, but rather evidence of a broader human struggle with work.

Based on an extended period of qualitative research with mental health service-users in north-east England, this article considers the various forms of ‘magical work’ and ‘recovery work’ that emerge in the lives of people living with severe mental health problems. Given the now sizeable body of literature which seeks to problematize traditional conceptual boundaries of work, the article asks to what extent these hidden and unusual work-forms might also be considered legitimate members of the category. Rather than argue for the expansion of the construct to accommodate these activities, the paper attempts simply to problematize the extent to which so-called ‘mad’ forms of work are irresolvably different to more conventional forms of occupation. In challenging notions of the psychiatric patient as inevitably inactive, new vocabularies for service-user work are explored. Concluding remarks are also directed to recent policy debates concerning ‘back-to-work’ welfare reform for long-term out of work service-users.

The purpose of this article is to put forward the case for a magically realist human geography, drawing on geographical research into the lives and lifeworlds of people with long-term and disabling mental health difficulties. In the article, I move between extracts from my own ethnographic research with mental health service users and survivors and the equally unusual stories of the literary genre, magical realism, in which I find a framework for addressing what I understand as a narrative paucity in much of mainstream research writing about mental distress. The article reflects upon the strange and sometimes magical qualities of illness and recovery in the context of individuals living with severe and enduring mental health problems and how traditional constructions of ‘evidence’ variously exclude or overlook such experiences. The contributions of the article are both to explore how ‘magic’ might encapsulate certain aspects of living with mental distress and – developing ongoing discussions in the sub-discipline around geographies of enchantment, magic and spirituality – to consider how a magical realist framework for geographical research might do justice to the rich, marvellous and irreducible experiences of everyday life, which are often excluded from conventional evidence bases.