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.
The best poetic minds of every new generation stand in awe of their predecessors. Deeply sensitive to the great accomplishments of those whom they inevitably look upon as the true masters, they suffer from what the noted literary theorist Harold Bloom (1973) has called “the anxiety of influence.” Ironically, these youthful poets draw sustenance from the very figures against whom they must struggle in the essential and daring act of developing and asserting their own voices and establishing their own poetic identities. As Roy Schafer (1992; see also 1987 and Fliegel, 1987) has pointed out, Bloom emphasizes the disturbing parricidal elements of this struggle. Any true poet must reenact the ancient story of Oedipus.
Just so, analysts in each new generation must work toward accomplishment of two seemingly contradictory goals as we attempt to establish strong and effective analytic identities. Each aspiring analyst may need to undergo an identity crisis involving the dethroning of analytic masters. Must we as analysts find our own creativity through an oedipal conflict in which we rebel and usurp the power of master theoreticians? Alternatively, must we always remain children — eternally little kids in relation to our parents, our mentors, and the authors whose works we read? Can we find our analytic identities by exploring new paths? Or will we risk losing them altogether if we stray too far off the beaten path?
We recognize the genius of Freud's pioneering efforts as well as the contributions of contemporary analytic figures — those whom we encounter personally as well as those whom we know through reading and in other contexts. All these people exert a powerful formative influence upon our analytic education and development. In our