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Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo. Every psychoanalyst should instantly recognize this inscription, not only for its place in psychoanalysis but also from its original context in Virgil's Aeneid. Alas, I highly doubt the latter, and Freud's use of the line as an epigraph to the dream book is a fantasy of white Western privilege. Similarly, I think the bulk of Joseph Fernando's book presents concepts all psychoanalysts should be familiar with: drives, repression, defense, reconstruction, and more. Yet many psychoanalytic fundaments have been declared moribund of late, and are discarded or lost: forgotten, suppressed, or repressed by the counterforce of uncomfortable inconvenience and theoretical reformation. Today's study and use of the psychoanalytic past is paradoxically reclaimed in outsider circles as a chic “return to Freud,” unwittingly tweaking the Yom Kippur liturgy of repentance and renewal via a return to faith, though leavened in the current instance with a healthy skepticism. The ubiquity of loss and the awkward conflict over return permeate psychoanalytic practice, so that we might expect a coherent practice and theory. Instead we find ourselves split, splintered, and reassembled with philosophical duct tape and bubble gum. Ideas of the mind as a system of dynamic functions mediating and translating interfaces at the frontiers of various realities and traumas, including losing or retaining experiences of self and other, have been superseded by ideological camps on one or the other side of the psychic-somatic and self-social divides, claiming either integration or the other's irrelevance. Largely in reaction to the clinical shortcomings of some aspects of early theory, psychoanalysis has rejected, nearly in its