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240 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1919


"Purporting to be a reflection on an aberrant form of memory, it sketches a theory of memory as such which has vertiginous consequences not only for psychoanalysis but for autobiography, biography, fiction and the whole literature of identity." (xv)
“The piece ends with his apparently innocently remarking that ‘it is perhaps “questionable whether we have any conscious memories from childhood: perhaps we only have memories of childhood’, as they appeared to us at later periods when the memories where aroused. “At these times of arousal the memories of childhood did not emerge, as one is accustomed to saying, they were formed.’ In other words, the ‘raw material’ of analysis, and indeed all autobiographical memory, is always retrospectively shaped.” (xx)
“According to Freud, ‘the meaning of our dreams usually remains obscure’ because at night we are ‘visited by desires that we are ashamed of and must conceal from ourselves’. (xxii)
“All Freud’s papers on art trace its origins back to childhood formations […] ‘Should we look at for the beginning of poetic creativity in childhood?’ he asks here. His answer is to say that ‘every child at play behaves like a writer, by creating a world of his own, or to put to more correctly, by imposing a new and more pleasing order on the things that make up the world’. ‘The opposite of play’, he says with challenging seriousness, ‘is not seriousness – it is reality’” (xxi-xxii)
“Now, the creative writer acts no differently from the child at play: he creates a fantasy world, which he takes very seriously; that is to say, he invests large amounts of emotion in it, while marking it off sharply from reality.” (26)
“The implication of Freud’s story, however, is that the whole extraordinary system of narrative exchange that is involved in our need for fiction, is bound up with a child’s need to re-read itself over and over, in relation to its own family. Every novel offers alternative genealogies, alternative identities and alternative struggles with the family. Freud’s fragment doesn’t tell us how to read such fictions, but it does suggest the ways that they might individually be shaped by, as well as shape, childhood fantasies, past and present. It also suggests a genealogy of our culture’s undiminished romance with the novel.” (xxviii)
“Precise observation of daydreams shows that their purpose is wish-fulfilment and the correction of real life, and that they have two principal aims, one of them erotic and the other ambitious (though behind the latter the erotic aim is usually present too).” (38)
“Indeed, the whole effort to replace the real father by another who is more distinguished is merely an expression of the child’s longing for the happy times gone by, when his father seemed to him the strongest and most distinguished of men, and his mother the dearest and loveliest of women. He turns away from the man he now knows as his father to the one he believed in as a child. The fantasy is actually only an expression of regret for the happy times that have vanished.” (40)
“One of the earliest investigators of the aesthetic, Edmund Burke, opposed the economy of beauty, built up around positive experience of pleasure, to the sublime, built up around the negative experiences of awe, terror and dread. In this essay, Freud, like Burke, moves beyond an idea of aesthetics ‘restricted to the theory of beauty’, as he puts to, to explore an aesthetics of anxiety […] ‘The Uncanny’ is one of Freud’s strangest essays and it is about a particularly intense experience of strangeness” (xli-xlii) and it changed the field of structural analysis of fantastic narratives, rooted in primitive beliefs about the dead and supernatural forces. As such, the uncanny – das unheimlich – has “come back to haunt subsequent commentary on literature, film, photography and art ever since.” (lv)
“partaking of a supernatural character; mysterious, weird, uncomfortably strange or unfamiliar” and notes that he has not found any “examples of ‘uncanny’ in this sense prior to the nineteenth century. It gains its spectral aesthetic currency after 1850, during the period in which the modern ghost story developed. Like the ghost story, born in the era of Poe, Henry James, M. R. James and Vernon lee, the feeling of the uncanny seems to be an experience that postdates belief in the supernatural.” (lix)