This has all the faults and benefits of a collection of smaller essays brought together to make a book.
Some of the pieces are startling good, enough to make the purchase of the book worthwhile, while others are utterly boring unless you are an academic fascinated with academic opinion on the opinions of dead poets.
Adam Phillips is an interesting intellectual. Of East European Jewish heritage but fully British (actually adoptive Welsh) in his outlook, he uses a Freudian psychoanalytic platform alongside his studies of literature to make wise observations on the human condition.
I am suspicious of Freudianism (as I am of Marxism and of all grand intellectual projects) and I am often suspicious of the Jewish intellectual need to think the world through such systems as if all might be understood through the rabbinical project.
However, Phillips (however he uses it elsewhere) uses Freudianism here as a form of poetics rather than ideology. He uses it to build up our ability to understand ourselves and others through little stories. We need narratives, little tales, and such narratives often have to have a framework.
Although many of the pieces require some effort and Phillips is perhaps over-entranced by his own word play at times, the Freudian framework does work in opening the mind to possibilities without obliging you to accept them.
Above all, these pieces indicate a humane man, if perhaps one trapped by the text-based culture into which he has been led by historical circumstance.
His humane approach reminded me of another Jewish-British intellectual, the recently deceased Tony Judt, whose naïve politics were not mine but whose decency and good faith rose above the framework to offer perspectives unavailable elsewhere.
His essays on Daniel Mendelsohn’s ‘The Lost’ and on W.G Sebald are startling in their insights into what we cannot know and into the structural miserabilism of the European literary intelligentsia. Again, Judt’s account of the same class, especially the Jewish element, spring to mind.
In many ways, as Judt forced out an admission of unintended Jewish intellectual complicity in the rise of radical nationalism in the post-1917 period, so his essay on ‘The Lost’ challenges the appropriation of the Holocaust by succeeding generations.
There is something in the British-Jewish secular intellectual tradition that refuses to deny its text-based origins but uses it creatively to be honest about its own history and origins that is a standing reproach to the cultural fanaticism of many of their American-Jewish counterparts.
Mendelson, of course, is an American gay Jewish writer whose thoughtful views on appropriation help in the transformation of recent Jewish culture from one of eternal victimhood and suppressed resentment to one of ‘balance’.
The murderous behaviour of people in Poland in the 1940s is returned by Mendelsohn and Phillips to the responsibility of the murderers and the actual murdered are given life as persons and not as symbols.
Their stories are told as particular and individual stories and are no longer owned and manipulated and falsified by the collective.
The dead weight of history can thus slowly be removed from a people, much as many of us Gentiles are removing the dead weight of bad family histories from ourselves so as not to pass on the story to the next generation.
There is certainly no reason why those from bad families need to make those who had good families feel guilty or do our will as recompense. In short, ‘deal with it’.
Phillips may not agree but this is the lesson I took from his essay. Psychoanalysis is not just about persons but their histories and History.
Interesting though many of the essays are (and I warn you that some are a little heavy-going to the extent that you just know that he could have made his point more effectively and succinctly), the Freudian ruminations are less interesting than the early pieces on excess and for the Guardian.
The first 100 pages are worth the price of the book alone. He deals with transgression and sexuality, with adolescence and with fundamentalism with both wisdom and humanity.
Each short talk or essay appears to stand against the judgmental idiocies of the anxious adult and for personal growth through experience. None of the pieces simply mouths certainty or conventional wisdom.
The item on fundamentalism has the courage both to give fundamentalists their due and to end on questions rather than moralistic assertions.
We are left with making our own choices about our attitude to those fellows who will not be argued with rather than simply be expected to accept demands to challenge the intolerant and risk our own tolerance. No easy answer is offered and this is good.
These are 100 pages that reassure me as a parent and which I would quite like to be read and understood by every parent and every member of that ‘autism for two’ (not his phrase), the couple, in the country. I wish he had offered us more on contemporary sexual neurosis.
I am perhaps less persuaded by his essays on, say, helplessness but I understand the argument and the complaint is not what he said but that he did not say more to clarify his position. There are moments when the Freudian framework obfuscates more than assists.
Finally, at the end, are two accounts of fairy tales (a common interest of psychoanalysts) – Jack and the Beanstalk and Cinderella. These essays were written originally for the Guardian and are truly masterful insights into our condition through our story heritage.
I would urge any ‘boy’ to read his account of ‘Jack’ and any ‘girl’ his account of ‘Cinderella. I suspect the former will just tell most men what they know already but struggle to implement.
The latter may, however, be truly liberatory for many women working against a very real biological clock.
There is a real problem with the book. It is a hodge-podge of essays for very different audiences and Phillips is an excellent craftsman who can write precisely for his audience in each case. His Editor has attempted to pull them together into themes but it does look a little forced.
If his audience is the intelligent amateur or the Guardian reader, then he adds value, but when he is writing for other Freudians or for academics in English Literature, then he is wasting the time of most of us.
I doubt whether very many of us really care about WH Auden’s anxiety-driven Christianity and padding out the book with conference papers is unfair to the purchaser. It is no accident that the finest material in the book was originally produced for Radio 3, a major newspaper and the LRB.
Still, even the conference papers can be insightful (the excellent questioning piece on fundamentalism was such) and, so, on balance, the book is highly recommended.