Here in the rich West, we live in the age of Therapy World. The perverse is celebrated, and the highest status one can aspire to is some variation of victimhood. Society is viewed as an interlocking set of the walking wounded clustered in their therapy support groups where scabs are perpetually picked, and adult-like maturity is a hard-to-come-by commodity.
Outside these groups is a perceived sea of hate and indifference, and any normalcy is pilloried as unattainable and probably inauthentic anyway. We see it today in the sanctimonious narrow-mindedness of academic and corporate white privilege self-flagellation sessions, and in the bloated and preening LARPing of Black Lives Matter and Antifa rioters.
One writer who has had a perverse radar for Therapy World since the mid-1990s is Chuck Palahniuk. But Therapy World is a mind-narrowing construction that inevitably crumbles in a Palahniuk novel, as the human condition is revealed as far too complex and weird to be codified in such