At the start this seems a rather brilliant resume of Proust's Remembrance of Things Past, indicating intimate study and aesthetic understanding of this work. Thereafter, the text degenerates into psychoanalytical gobbledygook, comprehensible only to the initiates. At worst Dr. Miller looses his grip on his theme and becomes entangled in a skein of psychoanalytical falsification and untenable theories. One could quote indefinitely, but it would serve only to delight the addicts of psychoanalytical study, and confuse all other readers. Actually, in one reader's opinion anyhow, it shows up psychoanalysis at its silliest.