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I have few qualifications for reviewing Edgar Levenson's book, The Purloined Self, and apologize to him if I have lacked understanding of what he has said at any point. I am a student of the history of ideas and in the past few years have been deeply involved in the history of the psychoanalytic movement.
I approach The Purloined Self, then, as a layman overhearing a series of conversations Levenson has had with his peers. I use the word “conversations” because his style is wry, witty, and informal. I have found it so engaging that I often thought, how delightful it would be to meet this man!
The therapist and the lay reader will inevitably view the therapeutic situation differently. Belonging as I do to the latter group, I want to know to what degree the therapist is concerned with enabling me to cope with my life better. Levenson is clearly more interested in how one affects change in the patient. I am interested in the latter too because I want to know if there are techniques to persuade or to cajole me to change and if it is indeed possible for effective change to take place.
I am impressed by Levenson's lack of dogmatism, but I am also a little concerned about what I take to be a certain detachment towards a human being who is described as “a patient.” The very fact that he is called a patient indicates that the therapist possesses what Levenson refers to ironically as “the Truth” and that it is his job to help the patient to recognize it as well. He frequently