The Feminine Self—Introduction

Ever since Freud interpreted the Oedipus drama as a metaphor reflecting Sophocles' knowledge of a universal family dynamic, we have viewed literary productions as valuable expressions of the author's unconscious. Freud's insight made us aware of a new dimension of all artistic productions. Since then we have recognized that some degree of projection of the artist's unconscious can be found in all forms of creative enterprises. Literary productions, however, are the most valuable to us because psychoanalysis is also a highly verbal endeavor. Each patient in her/his own way creates a live narrative in psychoanalysis.

Although most of us don't have the talent to tell that life story in traditional novel form, each person, it has been said, possesses the ingredients of at least one novel—the story of her life. To the extent that all novels are somewhat autobiographical, the novel is the art form closest to the psychoanalytic enterprise as well as the art form richest in projective grist for the interpretive mill. In Virginia Woolf's words, “Every secret of a writer's soul, experience of his life and quality of his mind, is written large in his work” (Orlando, p. 209, 1928).

Women, as we know, have not yet contributed much to the great creative treasures of our common artistic heritage because until recently there were powerful sociocultural influences that enforced female silence. Infantilization, for one, instructs to be seen but not heard.

However, there have always been women of talent around, and talent shatters bonds. The escape from the bondage of silence has probably been the easiest for women in the realm of literature because so little space and no specialized tools are needed to practice this craft. A relatively quiet, hidden corner beneath a stairwell, perhaps, will do, although as Virginia Woolf has pointed out, a room of one's own is a great advantage. Women, therefore, have made their greatest artistic contribution so far in the realm of literature, particula