Freud's Wishful Dream Book Alexander Welsh Princeton University 145 pp. $19.95 Review by W.R. Niedzwiecki Featured in BBR April 1995 As Alexander Welsh states, although "The Interpretation of Dreams deserves to be regarded as Freud's masterpiece," its immense popularity is difficult to understand. Often, scientists find it repellent because many of its arguments are sloppy, and it is eschewed by both humanistic romantics and the religiously inclined because it presents an uncompromisingly materialistic and largely pessimistic view of human existence. And yet, few who take an active interest in the humanities and human sciences would dispute the frequently made claim that it is one of the most important pieces of writing ever to appear. This is the basic problem that Welsh, who is a literary theorist and critic rather than a psychologist, confronts in the present work. His main theses are the following: First, the book is appealing because it encourages readers to identify with Freud, who presents a favorable impression of himself. Second, Freud's masterpiece provides both engaging narratives and conceptual tools with which one can fashion putatively truthful narratives about oneself. And third, "[a]mbition is the principal theme, and Freud's masterpiece succeeds in interpreting ambition as wishfulness." Clearly, Welsh enjoys The Interpretation of Dreams as literature. Indeed, many features of the work that tend to annoy scientists seem to attract him. For instance, he seems not to mind that Freud fabricated much of his "data," but instead regards this as excusable artistic license which makes the text more compelling. Furthermore, he appreciates the sense of spontaneous discovery which Freud succeeds in provoking in many of his readers, and he is impressed by Freud's ability to foster a sense of rarefied "knowingness" among his audience through the daring investigation of mystery. In elaborating upon this final point, he argues persuasively that Freud's narrative method of self-consciously seeking to illuminate secrets owes much to the 19th-century mystery novel and to early work in criminology. Like a detective, Freud can-or means to give the impression that he can-recognize the significance of clues ignored by most people and thereby uncover mendacity and clever disguise. Like a prosecuting attorney, he seeks to expose the deeply buried "motives" which find expression in antisocial activity. And like a fictional private investigator-cum-narrator-Sam Spade, for instance-Freud manages to present a self-confident, honest and above all good-natured persona with which his readers can identify. As Welsh notes, in the interpretation of his own dreams and elsewhere, Freud has an uncanny ability to make his faults seem like virtues in disguise. This is not to say that Welsh is uncritical of Freud's account. While he finds it seductive, he also notes that it is highly inconsistent, pseudoscientific, and full of unexamined, sweeping and seemingly arbitrary generalizations. Following Wittgenstein, he challenges Freud's important assertion that through free association focused on "manifest" dream content (or, strictly speaking, dreams as they are experienced, and, according to common usage, dreams as they are remembered in the waking state), one can arrive at the "latent" wishes which constitute the true meanings of dreams, and which have been disguised by a psychic "censor" because their antisocial nature makes them unacceptable to the conscious personality. Welsh argues that since most people can form personally meaningful narratives through free association focused on anything-or even nothing at all-there is no evidence that any kind of "latent" content is intrinsically associated with what Freud would call "manifest" dream scenarios. Nevertheless, Welsh does not claim that free association, and psychoanalysis more generally, are worthless exercises. Quite to the contrary, like Arthur Kleinman, Gananath Obeyesekere and others who have explored the healing powers of myth and persuasion, he notes that the construction of a putatively true and intensely meaningful narrative often serves to foster mental health. In his own words, "[T]he construction of a story satisfying to the patient is as effective as ascertaining the sources of disturbing symptoms...[P]sychoanalysis mainly describes narratives, but I doubt that a narrative can be satisfying if the patient does not believe it results in his or her true history. The problem is like that of psychoanalysis as a movement: it is not a science, but without the claim to be science it must lose interest for many people [and in particular for contemporary Westerners]." Welsh goes on to contend that what is structured through psychoanalytic work-what is crystallized in narrative and thereby made conceivable-is "ambition," not "wistfulness," as Freud claims. Just what Welsh means by this is mysterious. Although the contention is clearly stated as one of the major theses of the book at the beginning and at the end, it is never explicitly elaborated, and the reader is left to figure it out for him or herself. Here is my attempt: First, although Welsh questions the notion that a clear distinction between "manifest" and "latent" dream thoughts can be drawn, he nevertheless accepts Freud's assertion that psychoanalysis can help people uncover their deepest motivations (which may be hidden from their conscious personalities and yet in some sense still be real). Quite simply, a word stronger than "wish" is needed to characterize the profound motivations which are the appropriate foci of psychoanalysis, and Welsh feels inclined to substitute the word "ambition." Second, Welsh would argue that in an attempt to spare his readers' delicate sensibilities and to enhance the social acceptability of his own professional persona, Freud tends to de-emphasize the passion expressed in dreams and in psychotherapeutic sessions, and thus demotes "ambitions" to the status of mere "wishes." While I agree with both of these points, I must say that my reactions to them are decidedly tepid: these are the sorts of insights which might find more appropriate expression in clearly written and brief endnotes. These objections notwithstanding, I recommend this book to readers with a serious interest in Freud, psychoanalytic theory or the healing power of narrative. Fortunately, Welsh has not attempted to supply us with a simple review of Freud's masterpiece here; rather, he has evaluated some of its more salient features and "tried to re-create the experience of reading it for the first time." It seems to me that he has been largely successful in the pursuit of both of these goals. His argument is generally rigorous, his prose engaging and his sense of enthusiasm palpable. Like The Interpretation of Dreams, Welsh's book is rich and provocative, subtle and complex, and sometimes brilliant. W.R. Niedzwiecki is a doctoral student in Boston University's Department of Anthropology and a research assistant with the Indochinese Psychiatry Clinic's Cambodian Puppet Project. &copy1995. Boston Book Review. All rights reserved.

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