A vida com Lacan

by Catherine Millot

"Il fut un temps où j'avais le sentiment d'avoir saisi l'être de Lacan de l'intérieur. D'avoir comme une aperception de son rapport au monde, un accès mystérieux au lieu intime d'où émanait sa relation aux êtres et aux choses, à lui-même aussi. C'était comme si je m'étais glissée en lui.
Ce sentiment de le saisir de l'intérieur allait de pair avec l'impression d'être comprise au sens d'être toute entière incluse dans une sienne compréhension, dont l'étendue me dépassait. Son esprit – sa largeur, sa profondeur –, son univers mental englobait le mien comme une sphère en contiendrait une plus petite. J'ai découvert une idée semblable dans la lettre où Madame Teste parle de son mari. Comme elle, je me sentais transparente pour Lacan, convaincue qu'il avait de moi un savoir absolu. N'avoir rien à dissimuler, nul mystère à préserver, me donnait avec lui une totale liberté, mais pas seulement. Une part essentielle de mon être lui était remise, il en avait la garde, j'en étais déchargée. J'ai vécu à ses côtés pendant des années dans cette légèreté."
Catherine Millot.

Genres: Psychoanalysis, Psychology, Nonfiction, Biography

114 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2016

Reviews

[Gabril · Rating 3 out of 5]

Compagna di Lacan per dieci anni, attraverso pochi e selezionati esempi Catherine Millot ne descrive il carattere, la tempra, e anche qualche aspetto eccessivo e maniacale.
La teoria non è dissociata dalla pratica. Anche nella vita il maestro della nuova psicoanalisi tende a seguire il Desiderio fino a incontrare la Legge. Forse lo scopo, o la sfida, è proprio conoscere il limite oltre il quale non ci sono più limiti, ma dove si trova il nodo, o i nodi, e soprattutto il nocciolo duro, quello del reale: l’inconoscibile, l’irriducibile e (forse) l’unico vero. Cioè l’oggetto della ricerca infinita.

Lacan possedeva due caratteristiche apparentemente contraddittorie: da un lato si muoveva con attenzione verso la realtà fuori; dall’altro sapeva stare immobile e concentrato su di sé e sull’oggetto del proprio studio. Un ariete, come amava definirsi, opportunamente aggressivo verso la realtà della legge e dei suoi vincoli, teso a dimostrare che il potere esterno non avrebbe sopraffatto la volontà di affermazione dell’io che attinge forza nelle profondità dell’inconscio .

Ci sono molte lacune in questo racconto, ma forse proprio questa era l’intenzione: aprire qualche breccia, ma lasciare intatto il fascino un po’ misterioso dell’uomo e del ricercatore.

[Peter Mathews · Rating 5 out of 5]

By many accounts, Jacques Lacan was an egoist, a hedonist, and something of a tyrant. Even though I study his work, I can't say that I like him very much, and I doubt that he was my kind of person.

Nonetheless, it is undeniable that Lacan had special qualities as a person. Catherine Millot captures this side of his character, from her perspective as his mistress for the last decade or so of his life. She does not shy away from at least some of ascribed shortcomings - he was a terrible driver, for instance, and an inveterate womanizer - but she also depicts a Lacan who could be generous, funny, intellectually brilliant, and engaging. A comparison is made between Lacan and Don Quixote, and it's not far off.

It is easy to dismiss Millot's memoir as a sugarcoating of the truth, another twist in the wars over psychoanalysis and its legacy. For my part, though, I found her testimony quite moving: there is a sincerity and vulnerability to this account that underpins her genuine affection for a man she admired and loved despite his many acknowledged faults.

[Peter G · Rating 1 out of 5]

Jacques Lacan was one of the twentieth-century’s major intellectual figures in psychoanalysis and psychiatry. In a way that now seems hard to believe possible for an academic, he was a major public figure in France from the time of his initial rise to prominence in the nineteen-forties until his death some forty years later. His influence during his lengthy intellectual prime extended well beyond his chosen field and he drew as much upon philosophy, linguistics, and art as any sort of science to support the growth of his ideas. He was also a famously cantankerous personality who seemed to simultaneously encourage a cult of personality around himself and rub other public figures entirely the wrong way in the process. Undoubtedly narcissistic, occasionally Marchiavellian, easy to irritate, slow to forgive any slight, and, as even his closest friends seemed to agree, as plumped full of arrogance as a well-feasted mosquito. At the same time, with his personal genius and charisma, he inspired a generation of disciples; the best of whom underwent their own break with his notoriously thorny system of thought, and earned the old master’s displeasure, the worst of whom seemed content to stay around in his shadow and suffice themselves defending the old man and his legacy. This book is a short memoir of Catherine Millot, a rather minor psychoanalyst probably most famous today for her poorly-aged early take on transgenderism. But she was, at 27, one of the elderly Lacan’s own analysands and, in a way that seems unfortunately habitual and exceptionally problematic of him, soon also to be his lover. This memoir explores in a strangely abstract manner the nature of their relationship over the last ten years of her life.

My own interest in Lacan is really more for his place in the history of ideas than actual adherence to his system, but I’m probably more sympathetic than most towards his particular method of psychoanalytic thought. Psychoanalysis in general has suffered rather withering criticism from a wide range of people: attacked from the left for being part of the social institutions of oppression, attacked from the positivists for being unscientific in orientation, parodied widely across popular culture for being quaint, hopelessly bourgeoisie, and out of touch. I read this because I was interested in Lacan as a person and the answer to what exactly it was about him that made him such an influential figure.

This memoir, unfortunately, isn’t the place to find any answers. Without wishing to engage in my own poor psychoanalysis through the page, I do have to say that Millot’s recollection of Lacan seems hopelessly coloured by a sort of self-justification at her own rather sordid exploitation. Although this memoir is written with the benefit of some forty years' worth of displacement from the events it describes, Millot’s voice is still very much that of the infatuated young admirer carried along in the wake of a rich, powerful, domineering man. She never misses a chance to reinterpret any of Lacan’s “eccentricities” in the most powerful light — presenting him as a kind of Nietzschian ubermensch who is so well in control of his own exceptional powers that the rules of society can only hold him back. The memoir is constructed around several acts of self-censorship that I’m sure would reflect poorly on Lacan — such as the actual details of when their relationship passed from analyst-analysand to romance; to the inconvenient existence of Lacan’s wife; to her actual day-to-day interactions with Lacan. You sort of just get the feeling that she sat beatifically staring at Lacan all day while he grumped around. Ultimately, it doesn’t really become more than a strangely abstract collation of minor anecdotes that are only really useful as odd humorous trivia: Lacan swam two laps in the nude every day; Lacan farted openly in restaurants; Lacan was a dottery old man who played with knots all the time; Lacan drove like a dipshit; Lacan made fun of his analysands behind their back and often to their face — those sorts of things. Not really worth reading.

[Marta D'Agord · Rating 5 out of 5]

O livro de Catherine Millot, A vida com Lacan, reúne reminiscências da vida da autora com Lacan na década de 70. Se o título do livro apresenta o nome Lacan, é a autora, Catherine, que está presente. Para mim, se um aforismo fosse para ser comprovado, aquele famoso "não há relação sexual" o teria sido nesse relato autobiográfico. Não há como apreender a essência do outro, por mais íntima que seja a relação. As lembranças de Millot nos permitem vislumbres de um Lacan que a biografia de Roudinesco não alcançou. A cada uma, um Lacan. Millot corajosamente se lançou na inalcançabilidade do outro, a ponto de se sentir incluída sem incluir. Com a distância de quarenta anos, ela pôde escrever sobre esse período de sua vida, em que privou da intimidade, não exclusiva, com Lacan. Um período que inicia em 1972 e vai até dois anos antes da morte dele. Um retrato dessa relação é a fala de Sylvia (que morava ao lado): "Já fazia alguns anos que eu estava com Lacan, quando Sylvia, tendo nos visto atravessar o pátio do número 5 da Rua de Lille, disse a ele que nós a havíamos feito pensar em Dom Quixote e Sancho Pança. Eu não largava dos calcanhares daquele homem que investia em linha reta, movido por um desejo cuja força não deixava de me impressionar" (p. 28). Ela ficava ao lado dele enquanto ele preparava seu Seminário, às voltas com os nós borromeanos. Enquanto ela ainda estava em busca de um tema para sua tese de doutorado, a qual acabou por ser o livro Freud antipedagogo, já publicado no Brasil. Millot compartilha a impressão que Lacan passava aos que estudavam com ele, como François Cheng : "Na época em que eu trabalhava com ele, eu costumava me perguntar se havia um único segundo de sua vida cotidiana em que ele não estava pensando em algum grande problema teórico. (p. 73) Além do anedótico que se pode extrair do cotidiano quando a distância temporal aplaina o que foi sentido, a autora nos brinda com seu testemunho do Real, agora admitido.

[Mina-Louise]

this was interesting, but also completely forgettable

[Niki Rice · Rating 1 out of 5]

he slept around a lot, he knew a lot of famous people, he drove like an asshole. ok, fine

[Jaco Barnard-Naudé · Rating 4 out of 5]

An unassuming portrait, beautifully written, of Jacques Lacan, through the eyes of a poetic psychoanalyst who knew Lacan intimately.

[Fernanda · Rating 2 out of 5]

Tengo sentimientos encontrados por este libro. Aunque no habla de la teoría del psicoanálisis en sentido estricto, lo menciona y forma parte del contexto de la obra.

Por otro lado es casi un monólogo, entretenido y muy sencillo de leer; muy personal para la autora y se nota un dejo de melancolía en ella.

Ahora bien, es el tema y motivo de la obra lo que me incomoda porque se trata del amorío que tuvo con Lacan mientras era su paciente y, posteriormente, en los últimos años de vida del psicoanalista. Historias así ya hemos visto por ejemplo entre Sabina Spielrein y Jung... Además de lo conflictivo (y poco ético) que resulta imaginar este tipo de relaciones, particularmente me pareció decepcionante porque la autora insinúa que se arrepiente de no haber tenido hijos y del desamparo devenido de lo inasible de este tipo de relaciones. Más allá de si dicha relación era correcta o no es desagradable pensar que se trata del simple cliché de la mujer idealizada como amante.

Realmente no revela nada particular, mas que el anhelo infundido entre algunos psicoanalistas por hacer de sus pacientes sus amantes.

[Edgar Laguna · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Las vanidades se consumían en un desdén de todo, salvo de lo esencial. La vida con él era como una gran hoguera en la que desaparecían todos los falsos valores”.

El texto de Millot nos pinta un retrato amoroso de Jacques Lacan, en el ocaso de su vida. Lo íntimo, los detalles, la pasión por y mediante el psicoanálisis que hizo de esta relación un relato único es lo que encontramos en el libro.

No puedo evitar pensar en Patti y Robert al igual que Catherine y Jacques: se escribe una elegía, esperando revivir a los muertos. Propósito que logra de una manera tierna (y cómica) la autora.

4.5/5

[Theo Austin-Evans · Rating 3 out of 5]

"He didn’t let his audience delude themselves into thinking there was any hope for the therapeutic future of the patients. In the discussions which followed the presentation, after the patient’s departure, Lacan did not hesitate to assert that one man was ‘fucked’. He would even sometimes tell the patient this himself, which surprisingly had the effect of relieving the patient."

[Davide Riboli · Rating 5 out of 5]

Si legge in due giorni ed è una piccola delizia, piena di aneddoti che non scadono mai nella chiacchiera.

Racconta (molto) e commenta (quasi per nulla) l'uomo, i suoi tempi e i suoi modi con una leggerezza piacevolissima, costellata di occasioni di riflessione.

Siamo solo a metà gennaio, ma per adesso è la mia migliore lettura dell'anno.

[Celso Rennó Lima · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mesmo que seja um livro que pincela, aqui e ali, importantes passagens da vida de Lacan, não deixa de trazer momentos fundamentais da sua vida. Saber destes pequenos detalhes ajudam a ter uma ideia do homem por detrás de sua obra.

[Foteini Korda · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ουσιαστικά μας περιγράφει η πρώην του την καθημερινότητα της με τον Λακαν
Εγώ είδα το όνομα του ρεκαλκατι και θεώρησα θα μάθω πιο βαθιά πράγματα ,αλλά τελικά η συγγραφέας είναι η τελευταία του γυναίκα που περιγράφει τα βιώματα της μαζί του

[Ana Jessica · Rating 3 out of 5]

Un libro interesante, no me fascinó como lleva el hilo de los hechos pero se entiende, sabía quién era la autora, por ello una de las frases finales no me sorprendió pero de no haber sabido, una bomba pues.

[Simon Barraclough · Rating 3 out of 5]

Oh it’s a jolly holiday with Lacan,
Lacan make your heart so light.
When the day is grey and ordinary
Lacan makes the Sun shine bright.
[With apologies to Mary Poppins]

Slight, diverting, beautifully produced … on the Ziffit pile.

[Jon Beasley-Murray · Rating 3 out of 5]

A rather slight (and still somewhat enraptured) but interesting memoir.

[Casandra · Rating 3 out of 5]

Chismesito psicoanalítico y medio guía turística de Roma