While reading the first few pages of this book, this reviewer clung to the fantastic hope that it would turn out to be one of those Happenings which certain avant-garde speakers have taken on tour to provincial psychoanalytic societies. An author who has published a book entitled The Psychoanalyst and the Artist might conceivably have assumed the mantle of an Über-Dada (satirical designation of a deity of the Dada artists), pour épater les bourgeois. . . .
Such fantasies were soon dispelled, alas. This book is earnest, straight, full of good will, chaotic, and confused. Its thesis can perhaps be summed up in the author's mystical words: "Intuitively mankind has known that the mind monitors the heart, and the heart in turn measures out the strength and courage, the days and nights, and the light and dark of the mind." On the subject of heart attacks or psychoanalysis, it