A Reddit group lets people announce their novels and asks the authors to include any appropriate trigger warnings. The implied assumption is that fiction routinely contains passages that will trigger anxiety attacks or PTSD and that readers ought to be warned. It’s part of a trend calling for trigger warnings everywhere.
This approach has a couple of problems. A trigger warning is a spoiler. Shocking events in a novel aren’t as effective if the reader knows about them in advance, even in general terms. Imagine “Bambi Meets Godzilla” with a trigger warning. Second, it’s not clear whether they help. Psychologists have argued that treating people as fragile may only make them more fragile.
Do trigger warnings help?
In Psychology Today, Dr. Mary McNaughton-Cassill says, “In a cruel twist, assuming that we have to protect people from reminders of their trauma may actually be giving them the message that they have to spend the rest of their lives being labeled as survivors who can’t face the things that happened to them.”
From what I’ve read, there’s no good evidence that trigger warnings help readers to cope with stressful material. There are some indications that they may make things worse, but the evidence is far from solid. It’s generally agreed, though, that controlled practice in coping with triggering stimuli is better in the long run than forever avoiding them.
It’s hard to say what will cause anxiety in any person. It’s not just the subject matter but the manner of presentation. 50,000 people being killed is a statistic. One person suffering graphically described torture, even without permanent injury, is more stressful. Certain kinds of detail might make all the difference for an individual. The portrayal of the person inflicting the harm could be more disturbing than the physical actions.
Should books play fair and warn readers? Many readers love jump-out-at-you shocks, and warnings would defeat the point. Labeling a novel “horror” says that horrible things will happen, but even a novel about mostly peaceful events might include an assault or the discovery of a dead body.
What can the reader do?
Reading fiction leads to the unexpected. It would be boring otherwise. Trigger warnings are never going to keep readers safe from anxiety-inducing content. It might be more useful to advise readers on how to avoid or cope with uncomfortable shocks.
Researching the author is a good starting point. What do the reviewers say? If they praise the author for constantly subverting the reader’s expectations, that tells you something. An author who’s called a master of the diabolical twist might be just what you’re looking for or just what you’re looking to avoid.
Blurbs may or may not give useful clues. They aim to sell the book to the appropriate market, so their mood tells you something about whether it’s for you. Here’s a real-life example: “The infection spread, virus blocks taking over bodies and minds with one, unstoppable command: FEED.” Don’t expect daisies and unicorns, unless they’re zombie unicorns.
If something you read causes anxiety, there are better and worse ways to deal with it. A lot of stigma is attached to phobic responses. As I’ve mentioned before, there’s a tendency to equate phobia with bigotry. Other people mock phobic reactions as signs of weakness. Recognizing a phobic attack for what it is and not feeling ashamed of it is a good start.
Beyond that, I’m outside my expertise. Personally, if I come across an especially disturbing passage, I may skim or skip ahead. That tells me the nasty stuff isn’t all there is to the story, and often what follows is efforts to deal with the bad thing that just happened.
Some authors and genres, though, present the bad stuff as good stuff and keep piling it on. If you find you’re reading one of those, fling the book violently across the room (but only if it’s your own copy) and pronounce a curse on the author. Try not to scare the cat. That’s better than feeling helpless.