You do not currently have permission to view the full text for this document. Please sign in to an account with an active subscription or contact support.
He who has not known Freud personally at all or who has met him only on few occasions will reach eagerly for a book the title
of which promises to bring that great man humanly nearer to his admirer. But he will be bitterly disappointed in Reik's book. In the preface Reik describes dramatically (and not without journalistic inflections) how the etching of Freud above his desk comes to life as he lays down his pen, interrupting his work, and looks up at the master's portrait. But that portrait, unfortunately, comes to life only for Reik; and it is the only thing about Freud that 'comes to life' in the whole book. Except for some verbal description of him and some short remarks about certain episodes which are scattered in the first two chapters we read little about Freud but a lot about Reik. We would be content not to be presented with a biography in this instance and would willingly 'dwell on Freud chiefly as a man and scientist', but we are less prepared to accept the author's suggestion that his (Reik's) 'own life and work and books … testify to what profound effect Freud's scientific work has had' upon Reik. The apparent theme of the book is: 'The achievements of the disciple are the laurels of the master' (p. 3).
Many of us who have ourselves experienced the profound effect of Freud's scientific work will feel that reading Reik's review of Civilization and Its Discontents (Chapter VI) and the not very staggering critical flourishes which he adds to The Future of an Illusion and A Study of Dostoyevski does not add measurably to this effect. To prove that Freud was able to listen to an understanding criticism (without giving in in essentials) and be nice about it, a few characteristic anecdotes might have been more effective than whole chapters of a disciple's scholarly arguments.
The last six essays in this book are a selection from essays which Reik dedicated and sent to Freud 'on his successive birthdays as a token of … [his] regard'. Outside of the fa