Word: freude
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...that "some psychiatrists may be male chauvinist pigs," Burness Moore of Manhattan, president-elect of the American Psychoanalytic Association, emphasizes that such chauvinism "isn't implicit in the theory of analysis." Psychiatric theories of personality, he observes, do not hold women inferior to men. True, many psychiatrists accept Freud's famous "anatomy is destiny" dictum, which is anathema to feminists. To professionals, though, the doctrine does not condemn women to second-class citizenship; it means only that, as Hartford Psychoanalyst Rebecca Solomon puts it, "Women have to cope psychologically with the facts of their biology. They are human...
...work and don't do it-they are as distinct as wart hogs and race horses. And a lot of women turn out to be horses-some of them Percherons." On women in America: "Women have such a bad time there that they naturally feel bitterness. Thanks to Freud the whole of the United States is covered with millions of grown men grizzling about the way they were treated by their mothers...
...will recognize that the center's publicity gimmick is a direct steal from the comic strip Peanuts, in which Good Ol' Charlie Brown's mean, cranky friend Lucy deals out her own brand of caustic counseling from a "lemonade" booth. But Psychiatrist Weininger apparently knows his Freud better than he knows his Schulz; at this time of year, Lucy's fee is not a nickel. Every October, because it is less comfortable to man an open booth in cold weather, she raises her price to seven cents...
...plays fall in between, and they exhibit his flaws rather than his virtues. For instance, ideas were like banana peels to O'Neill; he always seems to be picking himself up after having slipped on some thought of Nietzsche's or Strindberg's or Freud's. He was addicted to dramatic stunts-drums in The Emperor Jones, mannequins in The Hairy Ape, masks in The Great God Brown. Something of a Broadway swell and a nifty dresser, he aspired to be a flashy man-about-words, a self-described poet, no less, and some...
...called, and big N have a lot in common besides Swiss residence and a New York publisher. R is the latest of the unreliable, self-mocking fictional silhouettes of himself Nabokov has written. R has a nasty reputation for deflowering very young girls, wretched insomnia, and a contempt for Freud. Since R is a writer, N has opportunities for even more teasing. One need reach no farther than the book for words to praise it. R is a "true artist . . . with a diabolically evocative style." Indeed it seems that R's prose has "a richness, an ostensible dash, that...