This new to me biography of Lincoln focuses on his depressive temperament, how he and his contemporaries viewed that temperament, and what modern-day readers can learn from Lincoln’s life and outlook. 
Shenk lays the groundwork for this book by observing that the labeling of psychological phenomena can be helpful, but also artificially limiting. “Language doesn’t just name a reality; it creates a reality.” Going to talk about how Lincoln has been viewed throughout history, including as bipolar and depressed, Shenk states that “such retrospective diagnoses often leave the impression that modern psychiatric categories are infallible, when, in fact, they are only one way to account for the complex reality of human trouble.”
The author then examines, through letters written by and about Lincoln, that he viewed himself as having a “melancholic temperament,” which, while including gloominess, also includes deep reflection, perseverance and great energy of action. (Shenk pulls these descriptors from the Encyclopedia Americana, which Lincoln owned and used.) The point here is that Lincoln, while sometimes suicidal and often miserable, would have seen value in his temperament, as would his peers.
Lincoln also described himself in correspondence as having “the hypo” which is sort of like someone describing themselves as emo in the aughts. “The hypo” (the slang Lincoln used) or “hypos” was an existential unrest, a gloomy state always in the background, but also with a relationship to sunlight and drive.
Shenk goes on to look at Lincoln’s life through this lens. The mixed blessing of melancholy, he asserts, helped Lincoln, who was comfortable with sadness and despair, look with eyes wide open and sit in the midst of very difficult situations. Basically, the tools he used to survive and find meaning in his own life helped him to show empathy and leadership in times when a sort of national suicide was clearly on the table. Choosing to find purpose, meaning, and connection was what he excelled at when the nation needed it.
Personally, I found this book as a helpful reframe for depression, and how to create something meaningful out of it.
Here is a Lincoln quote about doing something beautiful in an ugly place:
“Die when I may, I want it said of me by those who know me best that I always plucked a thistle and planted a flower where I thought a flower would grow.”
For people interested in the art and discipline of history, the book includes 25-30 pages of historiography concerning Lincoln and Mary Todd Lincoln.
For folks looking for a fresh angle on depression, this may be an interesting read.
