Word: freudian
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...goggle fisherman, wearing watertight glasses, a bathing suit and earplugs, dives down into an underwater paradise which is, as Author Gilpatric describes it, half marine science laboratory, half Freudian dream. There, armed with a spear, he harpoons a mullet, merou, moray, ray, octopus, none of which is so suspicious of man underwater as of man out. Besides being better exercise than most fishing, goggle fishing has one further sporting advantage: It exposes the fisherman to some risk of being the victim as well as victor in the game. On one occasion, when a large octopus wrapped itself around Fisherman Gilpatric...
...same theme, but on a larger scale, and with greater clinical candor. And this time Author Fisher tries to leave himself out of the story. At its best a brave study in modern neuroses, at its worst the book is only a variation on the case histories in Freudian source books. Again, as with the first volume of his tetralogy, publishers in the East refused to touch the book, leaving Idaho's Caxton Printers to take a moral risk somewhat akin to that taken by the publishers of Lawrence's Lady Chatterley's Lover...
...outdoor scenes of fights with Yankees and highwaymen, its pictures of the transformation of well-bred Southern boys to horse thieves and killers, gives The Unvanquished something of the air of Two Little Confederates as it might be rewritten by an author aware of the race problem, economics and Freudian psychology...
...characters are stencils: the shaggy, hard-cidery old grandpa; the devoted, 'disapproving old grandma; the pre-Freudian, high-neck-and-long-sleeves maiden aunt; the warm-hearted servant girl (Peggy O'Donnell). Some of the humor gets grey hairs: The tenth time grandma upbraids grandpa for swearing is scarcely as funny as the first. The narrative, toward the end, begins to stagger and stutter. And Mr. Brink (Frank Conroy) stays up in the apple tree long enough to make the captious wonder if it isn't time for the leaves to turn. But that may be because...
Wandering aimlessly down Boylston Street in the heart of the throbbing Hub, our attention was drawn to a rather meretricious display in the window of a corset shop. Being a disciple of the Freudian school, and having no inhibitions whatsoever, we slyly sidled over to the window to have a look at the very shapely and attractive wax models displaying the latest in feminine scanties...