Power, Pamela J. (2024). Transitions in Jungian Analysis: Essays on Illness, Death and Violence. Routledge. 2024. Pp. 120. Hbk. £112. Pbk. 27.19.

A little over 100 pages and nine chapters, Pamela Power’s new book is like a colourful quilt that sews together clinical work, life experiences of being a Jungian analyst, stories about her personal analyses, and diverse topics such as pet ownership and video gaming. It is honest, written with feeling, and inquisitive about many assumptions that analysts learn and believe in. I found it a refreshing read. Using her training as a musician, Power wonders about transitions in style that occur from one period of music to another. She applies this analogy to life transitions that are familiar to anyone and become focal points in analysis. She asks, “How does anything change from one form to another?” (Power, p. 1). Her autobiographical first chapter describes when her long-time analyst died, an event that led her into psychoanalysis with an analyst who was not Jungian. She wonders about betrayal, both to her dead analyst, and to her “Jungian roots” (Power, p. 12). Her discussion raises questions about loyalty, fidelity and adherence to what could be called theoretical dogma about analytic practice. As analysts are accustomed to working into old age, this chapter offers an interesting view on many of the unspoken concerns about illness and mortality that can ambush a patient when something serious is being hidden. Her second chapter examines the ups and downs of what happened when she adopted a border collie. It is a lesson in perseverance and tolerance that Power relates with heart. Chapter three discusses violence and the religious instinct. Power links them via the ritual of sacrifice, which often means killing off something, for example, a part of oneself. She finds that violence shadows the religious instinct and requires consciousness to accept the implications of this. The fourth chapter looks at identifications that pet owners make with their pets. Revealing her struggles, Power writes about fits that her dog had (from epilepsy) and fits of emotion that she had. I like that she brought into this discussion the work of Frances Tustin, who delved into disintegrative mental states and attempts to protect against them. A dynamic centrepiece of her book is Chapter five, which explores the negative coniunctio. Quoting the Japanese author Haruki Murakami, Power develops his idea about a toxin “in all humanity” that, like it or not, rises to the surface (Power, p. 54). For her, this has potential, in analysis, to show up as negative therapeutic reactions that patients can have, and that stall and derail an analysis with destructive forces. She discusses two of them: envy and sadomasochism. She finds both can be anti-growth, and thus do not have the creative valence of a positive coniunctio. This chapter includes helpful clinical material to elaborate on her ideas. She also discusses two films, Secretary and The Night Porter, to amplify how sadomasochistic themes are depicted in ways that are not only perverse, but also striving for release and vitalization. Chapter six offers a discussion of the social milieu in the United States over the last ten years. Power wonders about the “feeling values” of contemporary life, which would include alienation, traumatic responses, and “loss of innocence” (Power, p. 74). Chapter seven discusses the film Melancholia (2011), and Chapter eight examines medical and health vulnerabilities as these occur in an analyst. Her forthright discussion helps to address the complicated, troubling emotions that any psychotherapist or analyst might have when confronted with serious health challenges. The final chapter in Power’s book is about her taking up video gaming. I read it with keen interest because I have written about video gaming (Tyminski, 2020). Many boys and men I see in my practice play video games, and I have found that I have to listen closely to their excitement and frustrations about their games. I do this as if hearing someone speak about a dream, and I discovered a nice synchronicity when Power described one of her video games, The Last of Us, as like a dream (Power, p. 101). She hypothesizes that this video game is akin to a quest for the alchemist’s arcane substance, a delightful Jungian association. She finds that video games can mimic the structures of fairy tales and myths, and there is a difference for the meanings formed because a fairy tale concludes, whereas a myth illustrates. This is a good distinction, I found. I would recommend her book to any analyst or psychotherapist who wants honest conversation about difficult topics. It is a heartfelt compilation with spirited descriptions of an analyst’s life, work, play, and health.