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Doing Psychoanalysis in Tehran
Is psychoanalysis possible in the Islamic Republic of Iran? This is the question that Gohar Homayounpour poses to herself, and to us, at the beginning of this memoir of displacement, nostalgia, love, and pain. Twenty years after leaving her country, Homayounpour, an Iranian, Western-trained psychoanalyst, returns to Tehran to establish a psychoanalytic practice. When an American colleague exclaims, “I do not think that Iranians can free-associate!” Homayounpour responds that in her opinion Iranians do nothing but. Iranian culture, she says, revolves around stories. Why wouldn’t Freud’s methods work, given Iranians’ need to talk?
Thus begins a fascinating narrative of interlocking stories that resembles--more than a little--a psychoanalytic session. Homayounpour recounts the pleasure and pain of returning to her motherland, her passion for the work of Milan Kundera, her complex relationship with Kundera’s Iranian translator (her father), and her own and other Iranians’ anxieties of influence and disobedience. Woven throughout the narrative are glimpses of her sometimes frustrating, always candid, sessions with patients. Ms. N, a famous artist, dreams of abandonment and sits in the analyst’s chair rather than on the analysand’s couch; a young chador-clad woman expresses shame because she has lost her virginity; an eloquently suicidal young man cannot kill himself.
As a psychoanalyst, Homayounpour knows that behind every story told is another story that remains untold. Doing Psychoanalysis in Tehran connects the stories, spoken and unspoken, that ordinary Iranians tell about their lives before their hour is up.
About the Author
Gohar Homayounpour is a practicing psychoanalyst in Tehran. She trains and supervises the psychoanalysts of the Freudian Group of Tehran and is Professor of Psychology at Shahid Besheti University Tehran.
Thus begins a fascinating narrative of interlocking stories that resembles--more than a little--a psychoanalytic session. Homayounpour recounts the pleasure and pain of returning to her motherland, her passion for the work of Milan Kundera, her complex relationship with Kundera’s Iranian translator (her father), and her own and other Iranians’ anxieties of influence and disobedience. Woven throughout the narrative are glimpses of her sometimes frustrating, always candid, sessions with patients. Ms. N, a famous artist, dreams of abandonment and sits in the analyst’s chair rather than on the analysand’s couch; a young chador-clad woman expresses shame because she has lost her virginity; an eloquently suicidal young man cannot kill himself.
As a psychoanalyst, Homayounpour knows that behind every story told is another story that remains untold. Doing Psychoanalysis in Tehran connects the stories, spoken and unspoken, that ordinary Iranians tell about their lives before their hour is up.
About the Author
Gohar Homayounpour is a practicing psychoanalyst in Tehran. She trains and supervises the psychoanalysts of the Freudian Group of Tehran and is Professor of Psychology at Shahid Besheti University Tehran.
176 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2012
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 44 reviews
March 27, 2021
This is perhaps the best recent example I have read that portrays why certain books should remain drafts buried deep in the hidden folders of an author’s hard drive. The author begins with an insecure preface, qualifying her work right away. She warns the reader that there is none of that fetishizing, condescending orientalism and Eastern-thought-on-a-pedestal crap going on here. Fair enough, Gohar. But I am Persian myself. So I am not doing that. And like you, I was raised in Canada. So you don’t need to qualify your work through that lens for me! You are begging the audience to judge your work through a normal, psychoanalytic point of view? Sure! I will do exactly that.
The product she puts up as an MIT Press book (for some odd reason) is quite confusing. What am I supposed to be reading here? I don’t quite understand what she was going for. Is it looking at the normal lives of her clients in Iran? Failed. Is it to name drop 15-20 authors, poets, and philosophers that contribute nothing toward her bottom-line? Check. Is it to discuss psychoanalytic theory and how it has been uniquely shaped in Iran by the strains of being Persian? Failed, but an attempt was made. Is it to discuss her borderline sexual obsession with Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being? Check. This is a messy, tangled, chaotic blob of a book. There is no direction whatsoever. And to her credit, on the final page of the book, the author admits this and apologizes. Too late Gohar. I read your entire work. I would have appreciated that warning in the preface, alongside your warning that this won’t be a story about Aladdin and the magic carpet.
So why 3 stars? I have to admit that there were some amusing and useful thoughts regarding a specific tension that I have often felt myself: an admiration and love for the idea of Iran as Persia, the people, the culture, Shiraz, poetry, etc. This admiration is juxtaposed with a deep resentment for the hellhole that the current nation has become. In that sentiment, at least, I am glad to see we are similar.
The product she puts up as an MIT Press book (for some odd reason) is quite confusing. What am I supposed to be reading here? I don’t quite understand what she was going for. Is it looking at the normal lives of her clients in Iran? Failed. Is it to name drop 15-20 authors, poets, and philosophers that contribute nothing toward her bottom-line? Check. Is it to discuss psychoanalytic theory and how it has been uniquely shaped in Iran by the strains of being Persian? Failed, but an attempt was made. Is it to discuss her borderline sexual obsession with Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being? Check. This is a messy, tangled, chaotic blob of a book. There is no direction whatsoever. And to her credit, on the final page of the book, the author admits this and apologizes. Too late Gohar. I read your entire work. I would have appreciated that warning in the preface, alongside your warning that this won’t be a story about Aladdin and the magic carpet.
So why 3 stars? I have to admit that there were some amusing and useful thoughts regarding a specific tension that I have often felt myself: an admiration and love for the idea of Iran as Persia, the people, the culture, Shiraz, poetry, etc. This admiration is juxtaposed with a deep resentment for the hellhole that the current nation has become. In that sentiment, at least, I am glad to see we are similar.
January 20, 2019
Harika bir kitap! Milan Kundera ile dolup taştığını veya çevirinin kötü olduğunu söyleyen yorumlara hiç mi hiç katılmıyorum. Milan Kundera'nın kitaplarını hiç okumamış olsanız bile, yazar yeterince bağlantı kuruyor gerekeni anlamak için. Üstelik burada bu kitaplar, yazarın babasıyla (ve kültürüyle) arasındaki sorunlu bağı ortaya koymak için birer sembol olarak kullanılmış.
Vesselam, gerçekte anlatılan ne İran, ne de psikanaliz. Anlatılan, ait olman gereken yere ait olamama duygusu.. Bakın ne diyor yazar:
"Nostalji anayurda ait, başladığınız yere ait bir alandır. İzleyici Odysseus'u mutlaka evinde görmek ister, o tanıdık zeytin ağacının yakınında, sadık Penelope'nin yıllardır onu beklediği o yerde. Peki ya Odysseus ne hissetmektedir? Calypso'nun kollarında tattığı vecdi özlememiş midir? Kendini evinde yabancı gibi hissetmek içini utançla doldurmuyor mudur?"
Şahsen ben, son yıllarda sıklıkla yaşıyorum bu duyguyu..
Vesselam, gerçekte anlatılan ne İran, ne de psikanaliz. Anlatılan, ait olman gereken yere ait olamama duygusu.. Bakın ne diyor yazar:
"Nostalji anayurda ait, başladığınız yere ait bir alandır. İzleyici Odysseus'u mutlaka evinde görmek ister, o tanıdık zeytin ağacının yakınında, sadık Penelope'nin yıllardır onu beklediği o yerde. Peki ya Odysseus ne hissetmektedir? Calypso'nun kollarında tattığı vecdi özlememiş midir? Kendini evinde yabancı gibi hissetmek içini utançla doldurmuyor mudur?"
Şahsen ben, son yıllarda sıklıkla yaşıyorum bu duyguyu..
September 10, 2013
If you don't want to be disappointed, please read the preface. She makes it clear that " if you are reading this book in order to satisfy your orientalist curiosities, I have to warn you: it will be a disappointing experience".
I think that Doing Psychoanalysis in Tehran is a brilliant, rich, and very well-written book. Although some readers criticized the author's obsession with Kundera, and especially his novel (The unbearable lightness of being), I think that sharing her thoughts and interpretations of it was very important as it enables the reader to understand the mindset of the author, and what has contributed in shaping it.
The book introduces to the readers various conflicts that- I believe- we all have within us to some extent. The conflict that has touched me the most is the one about the painter, who was always preoccupied with being interesting and extraordinary, and could not accept or forgive the ordinariness or stupidity in herself.
The intercourse about intellectuals and what it means to be an intellectual was quite impressive and smart as it touches upon the very core of our definitions of such terms, and emphasizes how superficial our judgments could be.
Further, I completely identified with the way she described her feelings towards her motherland, Iran, and how she felt a special kind of attachment to the people there. How she could not find herself neither in the west, nor in the east; that she is somewhat alienated from everything, and has no sense of belonging to anywhere! She writes" it seems we are destined to suffer guilt if we have become incapable of seeing our motherland as flawless, and have recognized that our paradise is nowhere to be found, especially not in our homeland, and that our paradise is forever lost"!
As far as I am concerned, this book is absolutely worth reading, and I highly recommend it!
I think that Doing Psychoanalysis in Tehran is a brilliant, rich, and very well-written book. Although some readers criticized the author's obsession with Kundera, and especially his novel (The unbearable lightness of being), I think that sharing her thoughts and interpretations of it was very important as it enables the reader to understand the mindset of the author, and what has contributed in shaping it.
The book introduces to the readers various conflicts that- I believe- we all have within us to some extent. The conflict that has touched me the most is the one about the painter, who was always preoccupied with being interesting and extraordinary, and could not accept or forgive the ordinariness or stupidity in herself.
The intercourse about intellectuals and what it means to be an intellectual was quite impressive and smart as it touches upon the very core of our definitions of such terms, and emphasizes how superficial our judgments could be.
Further, I completely identified with the way she described her feelings towards her motherland, Iran, and how she felt a special kind of attachment to the people there. How she could not find herself neither in the west, nor in the east; that she is somewhat alienated from everything, and has no sense of belonging to anywhere! She writes" it seems we are destined to suffer guilt if we have become incapable of seeing our motherland as flawless, and have recognized that our paradise is nowhere to be found, especially not in our homeland, and that our paradise is forever lost"!
As far as I am concerned, this book is absolutely worth reading, and I highly recommend it!
September 3, 2021
üç buçuktan dört. başlığından dolayı "bakın biz doğulular da psikanalize giriştik ve şu iranlılar divanda neler neler konuşuyor aboo" tarzında bir kitap olduğunu sandığım için okumaya yanaşmamıştım; psikoterapiye dair pratiklerin evrensellik problemiyle ilgili konuştuğumuz bir arkadaşımın önerisiyle başladım. yer yer referanslara fazla dalıp asıl meseleyi unutur gibi olsa da genel itibariyle keyifli bir kitaptı. psikanaliz ya da psikoterapi "doğu"da tutar mı sorusuna bir cevap vermiyor -ki zaten öyle bir gayesi yok kitabın, ama "evdeyken bile evde olamamak" hissinin ne kadar insanî ve evrensel olduğu çok güzel anlatılıyor.
January 11, 2025
“…İran deyişini düşünüyorum: ‘Jana sokhan az zabane ma migooi.’ ‘Canım, benim kalbimden konuşuyorsun!’
Gerçek şu ki, ikimiz de dünyamızı en ufak bir anlaşmazlığın hoşnutsuzluk doğuracağı kişisel bir alan olarak görmüyoruz. Başkalarının kişisel trajedilerini yargılamaya oturduğumuz bir halk mahkemesi de değil bizim dünyamız; biz sadece gündelik hayatın yanılsamalarla dolu dünyasını çoklu merceklerin ardından gözlemliyor, düşünerek ve analiz ederek ona bir anlam katmayı umut ediyoruz. Dar fikirli gözlemciler olmamak için elimizden gelenin en iyisini yapmaya çalışıyoruz. Dünyamız mahallemizle, şehrimizle, hatta anavatanımızla dahi sınırlı değil. ‘Acı her yerde acıdır.’ “
Gohar Homayounpour, Fransa’da doğmuş ve eğitimini Kanada’da almış, lisansüstü eğitimini ise ABD’de tamamlamış bir kadın psikanalist. Tamamen batılı eğitim ve yaşamdan çıkıp anayurduna dönerek mesleğini yaparken kökler, aidiyeti, göç, nostalji, yurtsuzluğu fazlaca irdelemiş olan bir karakter olarak yazar çokça yerde karşımıza çıkıyor. Doğulu kültüründe siyasi, ekonomik ve dini rejimlerin baskısıyla sesini bulan ya da kendini daha iyi tanımak isteyen insanların tanıklıklarına erişiyoruz. Fazlaca referans kullanıldığını düşünsem bile Kundera kısımları dışında beni rahatsız etmediğini farkettim. Kitabın dili gayet sade. Genel olarak okuduğum kurgudışı kitaplar arasında en az yoran kitaplardan biri diyebilirim.
Gerçek şu ki, ikimiz de dünyamızı en ufak bir anlaşmazlığın hoşnutsuzluk doğuracağı kişisel bir alan olarak görmüyoruz. Başkalarının kişisel trajedilerini yargılamaya oturduğumuz bir halk mahkemesi de değil bizim dünyamız; biz sadece gündelik hayatın yanılsamalarla dolu dünyasını çoklu merceklerin ardından gözlemliyor, düşünerek ve analiz ederek ona bir anlam katmayı umut ediyoruz. Dar fikirli gözlemciler olmamak için elimizden gelenin en iyisini yapmaya çalışıyoruz. Dünyamız mahallemizle, şehrimizle, hatta anavatanımızla dahi sınırlı değil. ‘Acı her yerde acıdır.’ “
Gohar Homayounpour, Fransa’da doğmuş ve eğitimini Kanada’da almış, lisansüstü eğitimini ise ABD’de tamamlamış bir kadın psikanalist. Tamamen batılı eğitim ve yaşamdan çıkıp anayurduna dönerek mesleğini yaparken kökler, aidiyeti, göç, nostalji, yurtsuzluğu fazlaca irdelemiş olan bir karakter olarak yazar çokça yerde karşımıza çıkıyor. Doğulu kültüründe siyasi, ekonomik ve dini rejimlerin baskısıyla sesini bulan ya da kendini daha iyi tanımak isteyen insanların tanıklıklarına erişiyoruz. Fazlaca referans kullanıldığını düşünsem bile Kundera kısımları dışında beni rahatsız etmediğini farkettim. Kitabın dili gayet sade. Genel olarak okuduğum kurgudışı kitaplar arasında en az yoran kitaplardan biri diyebilirim.
October 5, 2012
Through this narrative I was able to see the beautiful, and sophisticated culture that is Iran. A very interesting and humorous application of psychoanalysis. This is a great read, especially for a Freudian!
September 4, 2015
Ünlü İranlı film yönetmeni Kiorostami'nin önsözünde dikkat çektiği gibi Batı'da örneklerine sıklıkla rastlanılan, oriyantalist bakış açısıyla yazılan İran kitaplarından değil bu. Anlatılan olaylar dünyanın her yerinde yaşanabilecek, yaşanan şeyler. Aynı zamanda İran toplumu hakkında fikir de veriyor. İlk bölümde Kundera ağırlıklı analizler, Kundera'nın ilk dönem romanlarını zamanında zevkle okumuş biri olmama karşın bana biraz zorlama geldi. İkinci bölümde kitap biraz daha akışkanlık, anlam kazanıyor. Yalnız çevirinin sorunlu olduğunu vurgulamam gerekiyor. Bu kadar çeviri kokan bir kitabı epeydir okumamıştım. Üstelik çevirmenin daha önce yayımlanan birçok çevirisi olduğu da anlaşılıyor. Dolayısıyla ilgileniyor ve İngilizce de biliyorsanız orijinalinden okumanızı tavsiye ederim.
October 21, 2012
I was disappointed. I thought the title was very misleading, in that it mimics the "Reading Lolita in Tehran", which was a well-written true story of a woman living in Tehran dealing with the totalitarian regime all the while trying to continue to learn and to teach. Doing Psychoanalysis in Tehran read to me more like a therapy session for the writer. She analyzes her situation and therapy with her patients in relation to "The Unbearable Lightness of Being". If I wanted a review of "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" I'd find one and read it.
December 31, 2024
Tolles Buch, beeindruckend, wie die Authorin auf so wenig Seiten die emotionale Zerissenheit der Diaspora und viele andere
Aspekte des Gefühlslebens einer migrantischen und postmigrantischen Gesellschaft verarbeitet, dabei stets das Individuum im Blick.
So werden ganz klassische Situationen alá wo kommst du denn eigentlich her?? etc. verarbeitet( JEDEN TAG nerv!)
und typisch psychoanalytisch unter Hinzuziehung toller literarischer Vergleiche.
Besonders hat mir Gefallen, dass die Authorin auf die sonst sehr häufige Effekthascherei konsequent verzichtet und die
persische Gesellschaft recht nüchtern und Objektiv darstellt, ohne "das Exotische" zu überbetonen.
Stellenweise ist es etwas sehr detailliert / wird etwas über analysiert.
Aspekte des Gefühlslebens einer migrantischen und postmigrantischen Gesellschaft verarbeitet, dabei stets das Individuum im Blick.
So werden ganz klassische Situationen alá wo kommst du denn eigentlich her?? etc. verarbeitet( JEDEN TAG nerv!)
und typisch psychoanalytisch unter Hinzuziehung toller literarischer Vergleiche.
Besonders hat mir Gefallen, dass die Authorin auf die sonst sehr häufige Effekthascherei konsequent verzichtet und die
persische Gesellschaft recht nüchtern und Objektiv darstellt, ohne "das Exotische" zu überbetonen.
Stellenweise ist es etwas sehr detailliert / wird etwas über analysiert.
April 26, 2018
This book is not at all about Tehran, and only indirectly related to psychoanalysis, although it has both as the foundations upon which it has been built. The writer tells the reader that much at the beginning of the book. On the one hand, those who are after getting a tourist's eye view of Iran (or what the writer more theoretically calls an orientalist perspective) would be disappointed; on the other hand, those who are willing to read yet another psychological book with a scientific framework and all the stuff necessary to create a standard psychology text would also disapprove of this book, since the writer has chosen to dispense with frameworks which she sees as defenses against getting directly involved with her true self.
Having given the said warnings, she starts from the beginning of the book to offer her true self to the reader, to give an account of herself and her therapy sessions not as a therapist and psychoanalyst but as a human being with all the fears, anxieties, shortcomings and doubts. She manages to appear to the reader as an analyst with a heart (the title she uses about one of her professors).
The book is full of interesting psychological theories and ideas, from Freud to Kristeva, presented in a plausibly understandable manner; full of philosophical anecdotes that serve to deepen our understanding of the notions discussed; and full of everything that can turn a memoir into something more than simply a memoir.
What I liked the least about the book: the part that offered a psychoanalytic reading of Kundera's work, however interesting, was too long and too far off the main concern of the narrator to be included in the memoir.
Also, being an over-politicized Iranian, I expected the book to discuss the political issues Iranians deal with at more detail and length and refrain from limiting psychological problems to sexual ones.
Having given the said warnings, she starts from the beginning of the book to offer her true self to the reader, to give an account of herself and her therapy sessions not as a therapist and psychoanalyst but as a human being with all the fears, anxieties, shortcomings and doubts. She manages to appear to the reader as an analyst with a heart (the title she uses about one of her professors).
The book is full of interesting psychological theories and ideas, from Freud to Kristeva, presented in a plausibly understandable manner; full of philosophical anecdotes that serve to deepen our understanding of the notions discussed; and full of everything that can turn a memoir into something more than simply a memoir.
What I liked the least about the book: the part that offered a psychoanalytic reading of Kundera's work, however interesting, was too long and too far off the main concern of the narrator to be included in the memoir.
Also, being an over-politicized Iranian, I expected the book to discuss the political issues Iranians deal with at more detail and length and refrain from limiting psychological problems to sexual ones.
July 2, 2013
I picked up this book in the library because I wanted to know if psychoanalysis was possible in Tehran. I was disappointed, the book contains the authors thoughts on other books, other authors and very little psychology. I gave up before the end. It is certainly well written but not about the subject I had expected.
January 23, 2015
I picked this book up after a long work day, and began to read it it without pause. I was determined to find out what it was all about. I was very pleased to discover that this book made me understand myself in the sense of my never-ending internal dual conflict between being raised in the West and being of Persian (Iranian) origin with traditional values (my parents held-on dearly to the very objects Homayounpour recounts in her book; and thanfully so I should mention as I am content with my roots). There were passages that made me tear-up, passages that made me laugh, passages I did not agree with especially when she discusses Eastern love and how in there is an abundance of love and friendship in Iran. Quite possibly, this just Homayounpour's nostalgia playing tricks on her mind. I am not denying that Iranians are friendly, however, the economy, the political environment, the lack of guidelines, the low-self esteem and confidence resulting from all of it has really brought out a 'survival of the fittest-type' attitude in Iranians over the years. I often contemplate returning to 'my olive tree' as well and have always wondered what it would feel like to really return, and to work in the field you are trained to work in, to contribute to the society in which you were born, to the country that speaks your native language. My ears have been filled with the same rhetoric as Homayounpour recounts: that it would be difficult or that I would not understand the language they speak. Reading her book, it was as if I was looking deep inside myself and forming the same paragraphical analysis I had just finished digesting.
In fact so much so that I bet people wonder why they feel nostalgic about their birth country, only to wish to return as quickly as possible to the comfort and safety of the Western life. I finally found out why I get excited to go back to Tehran but quickly feel disappointed upon my arrival to my 'olive tree' only then to burst into tears before leaving Tehran. Gohar Homayounpour does a stunning job at explaining this feeling: "I had now become familiar with with various realities about my homeland; realities I had heard and believed I was prepared for [...] I knew that things are never good or bad, and I was not expecting paradise to be waiting for me upon my return. But something strange happened when I arrived in Tehran after 20 years. I was taken by surprise. It seems that all my years of hard work and preparation had not prepared me. I had spent years telling my patients, my family, my friends, myself, anybody who would lend me their ears that we are all utterly alone; we are all bound to feel misunderstood; we can never find a place to which we truly belong. This is the human condition, and paradise is merely an infantile fantasy. How righteous I used to feel while verbalizing this discourse; how superior. So what happened? It seems as though I had secretly hoped none of it was true. How I fantasized about my great return, when I would belong; my return to where people spoke my language, in the broader sense of the word. I was home, to live where I had lived before; I had finally arrived at my version of the olive tree. How painful it has been to become disillusioned. My great native land was not the way I remembered it, and the person I had become was not the way people remembered me. I was furious at Tehran for keeping me in a state of longing all these years, only to end up disappointing me. I felt betrayed by Tehran, and yet while the place was taking off, it all suddenly came back! I could not believe I was feeling nostalgic: I already missed Tehran; I could feel myself starting to reminisce and it was as if the last few months had never happened. It was as if I had a sadomasochistic relationship with my memory; whatever my memory did to betray me I would myself trusting it, only to feel abandoned by it all over again. And so with my illusions about Tehran intact, I left Tehran!"
Finally, Homayounpour does a good job of demonstrating how what we perceive (and I believe this to be true because I have reached this conclusion in my life) to be the Other is really the other within ourselves. Filled with insightful passages from very inspiring authors, intellectuals, and thinkers such as, Kundera's, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Greek Stoic philosophy, Freudian psychoanalysis and so forth- this book will not disappoint you. It is at first difficult to understand the point in the author's discussions of Kundera's novel in depth in such a short book of her own. However, it later becomes evident that such discussions supply her with the metaphors of heaviness and lightness to describe what we are bound by in our own psychic state.
I much enjoyed her sessions with her patient with Mrs. N. In my view, it portrays the struggle of the "typical" thoughts of an Iranian living in modern-day Tehran: the power of being and not being in control all at the same time, the chaos that is and defines modern Iranian society. Anyway, that is my interpretation and my sentiments from personal experience. I recommend this book not only to Iranians struggling with the same issues, but as well, to all individuals facing challenges with their dual identities. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
In fact so much so that I bet people wonder why they feel nostalgic about their birth country, only to wish to return as quickly as possible to the comfort and safety of the Western life. I finally found out why I get excited to go back to Tehran but quickly feel disappointed upon my arrival to my 'olive tree' only then to burst into tears before leaving Tehran. Gohar Homayounpour does a stunning job at explaining this feeling: "I had now become familiar with with various realities about my homeland; realities I had heard and believed I was prepared for [...] I knew that things are never good or bad, and I was not expecting paradise to be waiting for me upon my return. But something strange happened when I arrived in Tehran after 20 years. I was taken by surprise. It seems that all my years of hard work and preparation had not prepared me. I had spent years telling my patients, my family, my friends, myself, anybody who would lend me their ears that we are all utterly alone; we are all bound to feel misunderstood; we can never find a place to which we truly belong. This is the human condition, and paradise is merely an infantile fantasy. How righteous I used to feel while verbalizing this discourse; how superior. So what happened? It seems as though I had secretly hoped none of it was true. How I fantasized about my great return, when I would belong; my return to where people spoke my language, in the broader sense of the word. I was home, to live where I had lived before; I had finally arrived at my version of the olive tree. How painful it has been to become disillusioned. My great native land was not the way I remembered it, and the person I had become was not the way people remembered me. I was furious at Tehran for keeping me in a state of longing all these years, only to end up disappointing me. I felt betrayed by Tehran, and yet while the place was taking off, it all suddenly came back! I could not believe I was feeling nostalgic: I already missed Tehran; I could feel myself starting to reminisce and it was as if the last few months had never happened. It was as if I had a sadomasochistic relationship with my memory; whatever my memory did to betray me I would myself trusting it, only to feel abandoned by it all over again. And so with my illusions about Tehran intact, I left Tehran!"
Finally, Homayounpour does a good job of demonstrating how what we perceive (and I believe this to be true because I have reached this conclusion in my life) to be the Other is really the other within ourselves. Filled with insightful passages from very inspiring authors, intellectuals, and thinkers such as, Kundera's, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Greek Stoic philosophy, Freudian psychoanalysis and so forth- this book will not disappoint you. It is at first difficult to understand the point in the author's discussions of Kundera's novel in depth in such a short book of her own. However, it later becomes evident that such discussions supply her with the metaphors of heaviness and lightness to describe what we are bound by in our own psychic state.
I much enjoyed her sessions with her patient with Mrs. N. In my view, it portrays the struggle of the "typical" thoughts of an Iranian living in modern-day Tehran: the power of being and not being in control all at the same time, the chaos that is and defines modern Iranian society. Anyway, that is my interpretation and my sentiments from personal experience. I recommend this book not only to Iranians struggling with the same issues, but as well, to all individuals facing challenges with their dual identities. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
April 5, 2013
A little bit exaggerated comment by KRISTEVA on the back cover about the book made me read it.
Kiarostami finds it away from cliché, I dont.
I liked the book, it was original it's own sense and well written. but more or less the author expand her own unnecessary obsession about Kundra's unbearable lightness... which I don't find it away from cliche.'
Kiarostami finds it away from cliché, I dont.
I liked the book, it was original it's own sense and well written. but more or less the author expand her own unnecessary obsession about Kundra's unbearable lightness... which I don't find it away from cliche.'
February 3, 2017
We psychoanalysts are a funny kind of folk. And by we, I both include myself in that group, and separate myself out, as an eager observer on the fringe. Truly, my position in this world is that of “fascinated rejection,” the very term that the author uses to describe how others perceive her experience of doing psychoanalysis in Tehran. This book again as opportunities do, causes me to become intimately involved in psychoanalytic thinking, get involved and entranced in it, but also tugs at my resistance, ambivalence, and totally pulls me from that world into one of observer, critic, engager, and rapt learner. I imagine this is a similar feel to how outsiders or new immigrants view another culture that they are standing on the edge of. It is how I described my recent forays into the fitness world – as first an imposter, an infiltrator, in disguise, impersonating the worker outer people, until I realized I was one of them. That there was a place for me. This has been similar to my position in the analytic world. I have always said that I have gone from being a big duck in an extremely little pond (in my previous life of existential psychoanalytic training) to being barely a duck fetus in a pond of super greats, where I have been honored to keep my toe in the water. I have longed to be a medium sized duck in a medium sized pond, and professionally, I am somewhat achieving that. This author, whose name I couldn’t remember how to spell, and can barely pronounce – she has trained here in Boston, with some of the greats. Folks I know and have heard lecture or trained with. The world she describes or lives from on this side of the ocean is my world – and yet not quite.
This makes sense – the book was sent to me by a new mentor, an analyst who I really enjoy, who was the recent instructor for the course I just took on Tennessee Williams plays. I happened to mention to him that I was working with a Muslim couple, and was preparing to write a talk on how culture affects the already inherent dynamics of couplehood, sex, family, and life. I had planned, still plan, to write it from the perspective of three couples, one religiously Jewish, one devotedly Christian, and this Muslim couple, for whom the work has been fascinating – with the intertwining of religion, practice, and belief, with the dynamics of the relationship. He mentioned this book to me, but honestly, I thought he was going to send me a different book. One that his wife wrote, which if I am not incorrect, maybe had something to do with either Eleanor Roosevelt, or Eva Braun, and now its wisping away. But at the time, I was quite interested, still am. But receiving this little gem was a nice surprise. It was great to read, and has provoked lots of thoughts and reactions, most prominently about my own relationship to analysis, analytic training, and the intents and curve of my career. That’s why I say we analysts are a funny folk – we are often to always to never endingly relating everything we do to our own dynamics and journeys. This author is no exception. She weaves in her own experience of coming home, doing treatment in Farsi, presenting her work to her colleagues in New York and Boston. Also interwoven, with her own experience and journey of the work, is her relationship to a set of books, all the works in fact, or Milan Kundera, particularly the Incredible Lightness of Being, which has been a huge inspiration and influence in her life. Her father was the Farsi translator, and that relationship too has a place in her psychic life. So what makes it virtually impossible to rate the book on a point system, is that its not clear to me who the targeted audience is of this book. Mostly in the analytic world, we write to each other, and reading this is like falling into home with a certain kind of language, theoretical worlds, way of practice and thinking. Its its own home and language way of culture and style. And even I stand and swim on the fringe. I wonder what someone outside this world would make of it? How they would perceive it? That’s why I say we are a funny folk, a culture unto our own. Novels and books are completely a different read. They are made to touch wide audiences, to bring you into the experience, to move and transform. A book like this, simply tells the truth of experience.
Now, onto the book. The author describes that her presentation of her work in Tehran was met with a “fascinated rejection.” What does she mean by that, she means that folks clearly stated that it was impossible. One can’t do analysis in Tehran. It’s a Western idea that would be impossible. I was shocked at the idea that someone would think this, and then actually state this to her verbally, and more than one, and more than once. Then I returned to the parallel idea of my fascinated rejection of the analytic world, and it made sense. Because in my experience of the local analytic institutes (how lucky are we to have more than one. Recently, we had up to three or four. Now less, but analytic trainings and teachings are still abundant and growing.) In any case, even in the more liberal comparative institutes, people disagree, even amongst their narrow orientations that divide within psychoanalysis. They argue all day long about defining points that are barely separated by a hair. It is truly like the Tower of Babel, where we are all saying similar things but in quite different languages, and swearing our Gods and practices are different. Its fascinating, and to be honest, a little intimidating and slightly off-putting. None of the supervisors and colleagues I trust and learn with, would dare assert that what she is doing isn’t and couldn’t be psychoanalysis. We would all be more like tell me, show me, train, me – let me share in your discovery. Most of the Boston world I know would receive her this way. I began to think about how often one (or two) voices can make us overlook the message we should have been paying attention to. That people are listening. This woman is clearly doing psychoanalysis in Tehran, and that was fascinating. To hear a bit about the cases, and the kinds of binds I recognize in my own culture and my own practice. How narrow would we be to assume, that that there aren’t incredible themes and deep work and especially in a country, where many folks’s thoughts need to be an internal process, given what is and isn’t accepted on the outside. Loved hearing about the cases. A book written differently would have told us directly what kinds of themes folks in this culture present with. Instead, this author showed us with a few stories, and invited us into the process. One thing I found fascinating, is that they have a different oedipal story they work off of, one where the son kills the father. I found this a brilliant eye opening thought, that different cultures have different themes they work on, depending on what they culture is shaped around. That was fascinating indeed.
Then there is the part that has nothing to do with the difference in culture, but that has to do with my own ambivalence around around the analytic world, one where I threaten and promise to become a psychoanalyst one day, but hover around the edges, watching, but making no moves to ever quite take the plunge. I become one of a number of people I know who question whether one has to do an analysis to have an incredibly deep and intimate therapy experience. I have often and always a number of patients that come twice a week. There is no couch, but make no mistake, this is deep psychoanalytic work with the same principles. I bristle, when people tell me this isn’t deep enough, or the same. Even thought that may indeed be true. But, and possibly defensively so, I begin to wonder about the tradeoffs. An example would be the gift of a flower that the therapist receives from a patient, her favorite, a lily. I think about the gifts I’ve received in my over 20 years of practice, and even one or two I have given. I think about some of the non-material gifts that have occurred, when I’ve allowed a joke, a twinkle, a piece of dialogue go unanalyzed, but shared between us in a moment of intimacy. I think about what gets deepened when the many meanings are either shared in supervision, in writing a paper, or deeply thinking about the patient, and certainly when shared with the patient. But also what is lost, when something is over-thought, over analyzed. Some things are just meant to be felt. Now I am not saying that this doesn’t happen in every analytic relationship, where some things are just felt and experienced, without the constant overlay of meaning – its just real and human connection and witnessing. But having had seven years of post graduate psychoanalytic training, and another number of years since, there’s a lot of time sitting around in rooms pondering theory, cases, practice models, etc, and its beautiful, and its all great. But dare I say, in my private thoughts made public, I have wondered if something gets lost. It’s the private moments that stay in my mind around this, that are almost inexplicable. I understand it from both sides. How I delight to share cases in my writing, with my supervisor, or with my supervisees, and play and delight in the moments. I am just saying I see the other side. Eros and Thanatos, Lightness and Darkness, the Unbearable Light of Being. For example, do I do analytic training? Or spend another few years performing in musicals, throwing bar mitzvahs, and engaging in the general life of children and singing and writing and vibrancy outside the mind. Do I go next Saturday to hear my supervisor speak on a fascinating topic that thrills and engages me? Or do I go to three basketball games, and make lunch for my kids? The lived question is deeper than that, about heaviness and lightness. About doing the beauty of what I’m already doing or deepening it, at potential both loss and gain. I have two more examples of how this conflict plays out.
In my reading life, I had the astonishing realization that I had read 75 books in 2016. Probably more. But as my caseload strangely lightened, I had the opportunity to take a few morning classes at our local community center, the local JCC. I couldn’t help as I took my first cardio class in 20 years, thinking about those 75 books as literally sitting on my hips. How sedentary one must be to have read 75 books, and exercised a life of the mind and imagination. I think about those 75 books on my hips just about every single day, and have a newfound respect for my body – which I’ve now dragged to the JCC, about every or every other single day, to do Zumba. I still read 11 books in January, but I’ve been dancing through the month too. Somehow I feel more balanced. The final thought has to do with psychoanalytic writing, versus my beloved novels, and clearly there is a place for both. But in thinking about deepening meanings, and the overlay of thinking constantly about all the various angles that we do in this work – I wonder, does something get lost in translation. And again, it feels like a different culture, a different home. Something about reading this kind of work excites and entrances me. But I also need the novel, the play, the short story, where something is hinted at. Where various meanings could go explored, but not all are explores, and each reader approaches it differently. We see the characters, the plot, even the motivations and dynamics through our own lenses, and they touch us differently. I love how novels hint, but are not explicit. And that dialogue can be explicit, and still have deeper meanings or intentions, but also that dialogue can be witty, clever, and that one has to think about what was communicated. For that, I just love a novel. We need both in our lives, which is why we have both therapy and friendship – and of course the same conversation looks and feels entirely different. But I’ll always argue we need both. Recently, I have joined three sessions of a newly formed reading group with the therapists from the Psychoanalytic Family and Couple Institute of New England. (PCFINE). After much internal arguing, they changed their first name to Psychodynamic, but I never will. I loved reading with these brilliant thinkers, and loved every second of how these novels deepened for me, with these talented therapists. For the same reasons, I loved the Tennessee Williams Seminar. One learns so much from the perspectives of others, and deepens one’s experience of the story. Now, these books and plays are tied up with other people. I guess I just wanted to say, because I wrote this review for the audience of my psychoanalytic community, as dually as my Goodreads community – I didn’t even think or try to separate them, that this is why I spend so much time on Goodreads. Because I love to deepen my experience of a book by hearing others experiences. I love to think through my beloved novels differently and from a whole host of unique people. Because like therapy, reading can be a private and personal experience. And like presenting cases, and supervision, it can also be a public one. The author was brave in sharing of herself, her patients, and a reveal of the work itself. And I loved that. But I guess, I want to also say that the unpublished moments matter and live with me too – always. And like the author ends, I guess I feel I’m ending my unusual dually written review the same way, and the same way I end my own sessions. Why don’t we pause here? See you soon.
This makes sense – the book was sent to me by a new mentor, an analyst who I really enjoy, who was the recent instructor for the course I just took on Tennessee Williams plays. I happened to mention to him that I was working with a Muslim couple, and was preparing to write a talk on how culture affects the already inherent dynamics of couplehood, sex, family, and life. I had planned, still plan, to write it from the perspective of three couples, one religiously Jewish, one devotedly Christian, and this Muslim couple, for whom the work has been fascinating – with the intertwining of religion, practice, and belief, with the dynamics of the relationship. He mentioned this book to me, but honestly, I thought he was going to send me a different book. One that his wife wrote, which if I am not incorrect, maybe had something to do with either Eleanor Roosevelt, or Eva Braun, and now its wisping away. But at the time, I was quite interested, still am. But receiving this little gem was a nice surprise. It was great to read, and has provoked lots of thoughts and reactions, most prominently about my own relationship to analysis, analytic training, and the intents and curve of my career. That’s why I say we analysts are a funny folk – we are often to always to never endingly relating everything we do to our own dynamics and journeys. This author is no exception. She weaves in her own experience of coming home, doing treatment in Farsi, presenting her work to her colleagues in New York and Boston. Also interwoven, with her own experience and journey of the work, is her relationship to a set of books, all the works in fact, or Milan Kundera, particularly the Incredible Lightness of Being, which has been a huge inspiration and influence in her life. Her father was the Farsi translator, and that relationship too has a place in her psychic life. So what makes it virtually impossible to rate the book on a point system, is that its not clear to me who the targeted audience is of this book. Mostly in the analytic world, we write to each other, and reading this is like falling into home with a certain kind of language, theoretical worlds, way of practice and thinking. Its its own home and language way of culture and style. And even I stand and swim on the fringe. I wonder what someone outside this world would make of it? How they would perceive it? That’s why I say we are a funny folk, a culture unto our own. Novels and books are completely a different read. They are made to touch wide audiences, to bring you into the experience, to move and transform. A book like this, simply tells the truth of experience.
Now, onto the book. The author describes that her presentation of her work in Tehran was met with a “fascinated rejection.” What does she mean by that, she means that folks clearly stated that it was impossible. One can’t do analysis in Tehran. It’s a Western idea that would be impossible. I was shocked at the idea that someone would think this, and then actually state this to her verbally, and more than one, and more than once. Then I returned to the parallel idea of my fascinated rejection of the analytic world, and it made sense. Because in my experience of the local analytic institutes (how lucky are we to have more than one. Recently, we had up to three or four. Now less, but analytic trainings and teachings are still abundant and growing.) In any case, even in the more liberal comparative institutes, people disagree, even amongst their narrow orientations that divide within psychoanalysis. They argue all day long about defining points that are barely separated by a hair. It is truly like the Tower of Babel, where we are all saying similar things but in quite different languages, and swearing our Gods and practices are different. Its fascinating, and to be honest, a little intimidating and slightly off-putting. None of the supervisors and colleagues I trust and learn with, would dare assert that what she is doing isn’t and couldn’t be psychoanalysis. We would all be more like tell me, show me, train, me – let me share in your discovery. Most of the Boston world I know would receive her this way. I began to think about how often one (or two) voices can make us overlook the message we should have been paying attention to. That people are listening. This woman is clearly doing psychoanalysis in Tehran, and that was fascinating. To hear a bit about the cases, and the kinds of binds I recognize in my own culture and my own practice. How narrow would we be to assume, that that there aren’t incredible themes and deep work and especially in a country, where many folks’s thoughts need to be an internal process, given what is and isn’t accepted on the outside. Loved hearing about the cases. A book written differently would have told us directly what kinds of themes folks in this culture present with. Instead, this author showed us with a few stories, and invited us into the process. One thing I found fascinating, is that they have a different oedipal story they work off of, one where the son kills the father. I found this a brilliant eye opening thought, that different cultures have different themes they work on, depending on what they culture is shaped around. That was fascinating indeed.
Then there is the part that has nothing to do with the difference in culture, but that has to do with my own ambivalence around around the analytic world, one where I threaten and promise to become a psychoanalyst one day, but hover around the edges, watching, but making no moves to ever quite take the plunge. I become one of a number of people I know who question whether one has to do an analysis to have an incredibly deep and intimate therapy experience. I have often and always a number of patients that come twice a week. There is no couch, but make no mistake, this is deep psychoanalytic work with the same principles. I bristle, when people tell me this isn’t deep enough, or the same. Even thought that may indeed be true. But, and possibly defensively so, I begin to wonder about the tradeoffs. An example would be the gift of a flower that the therapist receives from a patient, her favorite, a lily. I think about the gifts I’ve received in my over 20 years of practice, and even one or two I have given. I think about some of the non-material gifts that have occurred, when I’ve allowed a joke, a twinkle, a piece of dialogue go unanalyzed, but shared between us in a moment of intimacy. I think about what gets deepened when the many meanings are either shared in supervision, in writing a paper, or deeply thinking about the patient, and certainly when shared with the patient. But also what is lost, when something is over-thought, over analyzed. Some things are just meant to be felt. Now I am not saying that this doesn’t happen in every analytic relationship, where some things are just felt and experienced, without the constant overlay of meaning – its just real and human connection and witnessing. But having had seven years of post graduate psychoanalytic training, and another number of years since, there’s a lot of time sitting around in rooms pondering theory, cases, practice models, etc, and its beautiful, and its all great. But dare I say, in my private thoughts made public, I have wondered if something gets lost. It’s the private moments that stay in my mind around this, that are almost inexplicable. I understand it from both sides. How I delight to share cases in my writing, with my supervisor, or with my supervisees, and play and delight in the moments. I am just saying I see the other side. Eros and Thanatos, Lightness and Darkness, the Unbearable Light of Being. For example, do I do analytic training? Or spend another few years performing in musicals, throwing bar mitzvahs, and engaging in the general life of children and singing and writing and vibrancy outside the mind. Do I go next Saturday to hear my supervisor speak on a fascinating topic that thrills and engages me? Or do I go to three basketball games, and make lunch for my kids? The lived question is deeper than that, about heaviness and lightness. About doing the beauty of what I’m already doing or deepening it, at potential both loss and gain. I have two more examples of how this conflict plays out.
In my reading life, I had the astonishing realization that I had read 75 books in 2016. Probably more. But as my caseload strangely lightened, I had the opportunity to take a few morning classes at our local community center, the local JCC. I couldn’t help as I took my first cardio class in 20 years, thinking about those 75 books as literally sitting on my hips. How sedentary one must be to have read 75 books, and exercised a life of the mind and imagination. I think about those 75 books on my hips just about every single day, and have a newfound respect for my body – which I’ve now dragged to the JCC, about every or every other single day, to do Zumba. I still read 11 books in January, but I’ve been dancing through the month too. Somehow I feel more balanced. The final thought has to do with psychoanalytic writing, versus my beloved novels, and clearly there is a place for both. But in thinking about deepening meanings, and the overlay of thinking constantly about all the various angles that we do in this work – I wonder, does something get lost in translation. And again, it feels like a different culture, a different home. Something about reading this kind of work excites and entrances me. But I also need the novel, the play, the short story, where something is hinted at. Where various meanings could go explored, but not all are explores, and each reader approaches it differently. We see the characters, the plot, even the motivations and dynamics through our own lenses, and they touch us differently. I love how novels hint, but are not explicit. And that dialogue can be explicit, and still have deeper meanings or intentions, but also that dialogue can be witty, clever, and that one has to think about what was communicated. For that, I just love a novel. We need both in our lives, which is why we have both therapy and friendship – and of course the same conversation looks and feels entirely different. But I’ll always argue we need both. Recently, I have joined three sessions of a newly formed reading group with the therapists from the Psychoanalytic Family and Couple Institute of New England. (PCFINE). After much internal arguing, they changed their first name to Psychodynamic, but I never will. I loved reading with these brilliant thinkers, and loved every second of how these novels deepened for me, with these talented therapists. For the same reasons, I loved the Tennessee Williams Seminar. One learns so much from the perspectives of others, and deepens one’s experience of the story. Now, these books and plays are tied up with other people. I guess I just wanted to say, because I wrote this review for the audience of my psychoanalytic community, as dually as my Goodreads community – I didn’t even think or try to separate them, that this is why I spend so much time on Goodreads. Because I love to deepen my experience of a book by hearing others experiences. I love to think through my beloved novels differently and from a whole host of unique people. Because like therapy, reading can be a private and personal experience. And like presenting cases, and supervision, it can also be a public one. The author was brave in sharing of herself, her patients, and a reveal of the work itself. And I loved that. But I guess, I want to also say that the unpublished moments matter and live with me too – always. And like the author ends, I guess I feel I’m ending my unusual dually written review the same way, and the same way I end my own sessions. Why don’t we pause here? See you soon.
September 2, 2018
Başlığa bakıp çok daha derinlikli bir kitap beklerken psikanalist olmaya dair birkaç anekdot, gereğinden fazla yer kaplayan bir Kundera analiz ve hayranlığı, Kristeva ve Freud alıntılarını anlamlandırma yetersizliğiyle dolu, pek de bir yere bağlanmayan bir kitap.
July 28, 2026
2.5. this is actually a review of kundera's the unbearable lightness of being
July 10, 2026
Testo complesso. Segue il pensiero di una psicoanalista quando incontra i suoi pazienti.
Frasi interessanti sull'importanza della parola.
Frasi interessanti sull'importanza della parola.
April 18, 2021
Those wanting more shape, direction, less Kundera discussions are missing the point. She puts her self and her worldview through the ringer in a totally unobvious way to achieve a momentary speck of clarity: “Doing psychoanalysis in Tehran has been about learning how to love. Lacan used to say: ‘To love is to give what you haven’t got.’ Which, in the words of Jacques-Alain Miller, means: To love is to recognize your lack and give it to the Other, to place it in the Other. It’s not giving what you possess, like gifts and presents; it’s giving something else that you don’t possess, which goes beyond you. To do that you have to assume your lack—your ‘castration’ as Freud used to say. DOING PSYCHOANALYSIS IN TEHRAN has been a lover’s discourse. I have been taught by every single patient, supervise, student, etc. TO GIVE WHAT I HAVEN’T GOT.” Hell yeah. To strive for the common unhappiness always, the hysteric condition!
March 16, 2021
Definitely one of my favorite books of all time. When people say this book is not to satisfy your western fetishes I highly question each west are they talking about. This book talks about Tehran but could be talking about southern European countries. I started to morph myself into this book, after recognizing the similarities between my country and Iran.
I'll also leave here one of my favorite quotes from this book.
Maybe I find it depressing because through spring, we are forced to face everything that represents life, birth, youth, while we are so intensely aware of getting older, and approaching death.
I'll also leave here one of my favorite quotes from this book.
Maybe I find it depressing because through spring, we are forced to face everything that represents life, birth, youth, while we are so intensely aware of getting older, and approaching death.
December 20, 2014
The book leaves you feeling that It just happened that the room she was having these thoughts in was in Tehran. Misleading title in my opinion. I was interested to know more about the experience of conducting psychoanalytic psychotherapy in an Islamic/Eastern society; a subject that wasn't discusses in a book before, as far as I know.
January 12, 2013
This book was awful.
February 22, 2013
Loved, loved, loved this book! I feel like she used my reading list....
Read
June 1, 2013The writing was unclear for me and i could not follow her thoughts. And constant shifts in subjects leaved me in "khomari!"
July 15, 2013
Mi sono piaciute le disquisizioni dell'autrice circa passi letterari in qualche modo paralleli al discorso psicoanalitico! Un piccolo libro che provoca ottimi spunti di riflessione.
September 28, 2016
one of my good-reads of this year *thumb ub*
February 20, 2021
Very interesting. A writer whose observations and thoughts are deeply informed - maybe I should say "felt" - by classical literature of both the West and the East.
I really appreciated the analyst sharing her own thoughts instead of hiding behind the patient - analysts can he so infuriatingly invisible, so this was quite a treat.
Oedipus - at least as distilled by Freud in his famous Oedipus Complex which is a particular interpretation of Sophocles, and Sophocles is definitely not the only representative of Greek tragedy - is contrasted with Ferdowsi’s Shahnameh. In the Shahnameh, fathers (who are kings) kill their sons. (I began on an English translation of the Shahnameh, but I never read the whole work, so I have only a very vague idea of the text.)
Homayounpour's thesis is captivating: the patricidal drives of the west are different to the fear of being killed by the father in Iran. The fantasies of the east and west are different! The background to Homayounpour's thesis would surely be be Susan Isaac's idea quoted by Melanie Klein that "Phantasy (sic) is the psychic representation of instinct."
In a wild and brilliant extrapolation, Homayounpour writes that the fear of the father leads to an acceptance of castration. (I think that acceptance of castration leads to an integration of complexity and thus a mentally healthy individual, although I defer to those who are more learned in psychoanalytical theory than myself. )
She concludes with a rather intriguing idea that while on analysts' couches in the West, neurotics have been replaced by their borderline and psychotic counterparts, in Iran, if the analyst appears, so too do the neurotics.
I love Homayounpour's thoughts on Odysseus' return to Ithaca: Odysseus' struggle to accept all the things that have changed as well as those things that have not changed - I was just waiting for her to interpret the death of Argos, alas the hound did not make it into this discussion of the Odyssea either. At least we had Karenin to pat.
I really appreciated the analyst sharing her own thoughts instead of hiding behind the patient - analysts can he so infuriatingly invisible, so this was quite a treat.
Oedipus - at least as distilled by Freud in his famous Oedipus Complex which is a particular interpretation of Sophocles, and Sophocles is definitely not the only representative of Greek tragedy - is contrasted with Ferdowsi’s Shahnameh. In the Shahnameh, fathers (who are kings) kill their sons. (I began on an English translation of the Shahnameh, but I never read the whole work, so I have only a very vague idea of the text.)
Homayounpour's thesis is captivating: the patricidal drives of the west are different to the fear of being killed by the father in Iran. The fantasies of the east and west are different! The background to Homayounpour's thesis would surely be be Susan Isaac's idea quoted by Melanie Klein that "Phantasy (sic) is the psychic representation of instinct."
In a wild and brilliant extrapolation, Homayounpour writes that the fear of the father leads to an acceptance of castration. (I think that acceptance of castration leads to an integration of complexity and thus a mentally healthy individual, although I defer to those who are more learned in psychoanalytical theory than myself. )
She concludes with a rather intriguing idea that while on analysts' couches in the West, neurotics have been replaced by their borderline and psychotic counterparts, in Iran, if the analyst appears, so too do the neurotics.
I love Homayounpour's thoughts on Odysseus' return to Ithaca: Odysseus' struggle to accept all the things that have changed as well as those things that have not changed - I was just waiting for her to interpret the death of Argos, alas the hound did not make it into this discussion of the Odyssea either. At least we had Karenin to pat.
April 22, 2026
This is on a par with Reading Lolita. I’m not the audience here, which is white and American and will supposedly be surprised to learn that Iranians have inner lives too. Or maybe? The bulk of the book namely consists of the presumably edited outpourings of her patients, who, as Julia Kristeva, overly generously in her blurb puts it ‘show their unexpected, secret, and ultimately irresistible roads to freedom.’ Not really? Ok. Maybe? Because we’re all just human who want to sojourn in Paris, buy art in Mexico City, and live in huge golden mansions as the patients Homayounpour chooses to highlight do? That’s what unites us? Capitalist liberation from the shackles of - not even the ayatollahs mind - but banality and bad sex? Fair. I understand. I really do. But that doesn’t make this ‘a brilliant book of analysis, memory, and association.’ It makes it a well concealed ideological tract that somehow manages to uphold its petty western bourgeois aspirations while simultaneously somehow not questioning the repressive mechanisms of the Iranian regime either. So much conservatism is almost… admirable.
November 3, 2020
Psikolojide tek bir neden yoktur; baskın nedenler vardır. İşte zaman zaman göz ardı etme eğilimine girdiğimiz bu gerçeği, tüm sahiciliğiyle kafama kazıyan bir kitap oldu. Oryantalist bakış açılarının, kültürlere objektif yaklaşamamanın ve insan ruhsallığını basite indirgemenin tamamen altını oyan bir çalışma. Okunan her paragraf insana ruhsallıkta netliğin olmadığını fısıldıyor; bunu bütünüyle kavrayabilmek içinse belki de en çok insanın dönüp bir kendine bakması gerekiyor. En nihayetinde acı her yerde acıdır.
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