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and palpable evocation of a city as it was but never again will be,
its
exploration of sex both bitter and humorous, its scatology, its dwelling
on the father-son relationship while doing true obeisance to the eternal
feminine, its religious coloring, its esoteric lore, its inextricable blend
of reality and hallucination, its split between sensuality and spirituality,
its wealth of magnificently grotesque invention is a German approxima–
tion of-you guessed
it-Ulysses.
Approximation only, not equivalent;
but a spectacular achievement all the same.
The Tin Drum
pursues,
dazzles, sinks its claws into the mind. Whether it can also ambush
the future remains to be seen.
John Simon
JUNG AND FREUD
MEMORIES. DREAMS. REFLECTIONS. By C. G. Jung. Tronsloted by
Richord ond Cloro Winston. Pontheon. $7.50.
I
C. G. Jung, who viewed autobiographies with suspicion, con–
sented to the publication of his own upon condition that it appear poilt–
humously and not as part of his collected works. Edited and in part
transcribed by Aniela Jaffe from Jung's conversation,
Memories, Dreams,
Reflections
will be of interest not only to those curious to test the pro–
fessional quality of Jung's self-awareness but also, I believe, to anyone
concerned with the relations between psychoanalysis and literature–
between, that is, the kinds of experience that each means to foster. One
finds in the book few dates, little account of outward circumstance, none
of the paraphernalia of straightforward public reminiscence; this is a
wander-jahre
of the spirit, whose theme is the inner self-realization denied
by our utilitarian society. One must return to the works of the romantic
artists, to Wordsworth's
Prelude
or to Goethe's
Dichtung und Wahrheit,
to encounter a similar autobiographical intention.
The Jungian therapy proceeds from a theoretical affirmation of the
cognitive value of man's fantasy-life, despite its lack of immediate ac–
quaintance with reality. Jung has written elsewhere: "We only under–
stand that thinking which is a mere equation, and from which nothing
comes out but what we have put in. That is the working of the intellect.
But beyond that there is a thinking in primordial images-in symbols
