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Brett Kahr's latest contribution to the study of the life and work of Donald Winnicott is a provocative and entertaining account of one of the great analytic minds of the twentieth century. Using his unparalleled insight and archival resources, Kahr sheds light in this article on previously unknown aspects of Winnicott the man. I read Kahr's article from the perspective of a child and adolescent psychotherapist working primarily with individuals, while, nevertheless, constantly thinking about the couple who came together to create the child, and the impact of that couple on their child's development.
Of course, in the case of the first Mr and Mrs Winnicott, there were no children—and that, in itself, is very much present in this paper. The glaring absence of any progeny—indeed, the absence of any attempt at procreation—from a man who was dedicated to understanding the parent-child bond is one of the most striking aspects that is analysed by Kahr.
Being childless would not have been remarkable on its own, although I imagine there would have been much pressure on men in the years after the First World War to have children. However, given that his life's work was in large part devoted to everything to do with children and their internal and external worlds, the absence is quite remarkable. In fact, Winnicott—unconsciously or otherwise—had entered a marriage that was destined to be a childless union. Kahr's insight that it was also unconsummated, points to a private life riven with conflicts and repressed sexuality.
Throughout Kahr's article I kept wondering how Winnicott carried this absence. How could a man so finely attuned to the emerging minds of infants and their need for an external relationship, tolerate knowing that he would not experience this for himself, nor witness the findings of his work on his own children? As countless babies sat on his lap playing with spatulas or tongue depressors—unwittingly revealing their inner selves—was he melancholic, regretful, en