I was beyond excited to read Allison Bechtel's second graphic memoir after the magnificent Fun Home, but I was disappointed. Perhaps because I am so skeptical about psychoanalysis, I was annoyed and /or bored with the long passages about Bechdel’s therapy and her infatuation with the theories of Donald Winnicott. When Bechdel reaches into the past with clarity and concentrates on specific details about her mother, it was interesting. Much of the rest left me cold
I remember at the end of Fun Home I had tears in my eyes, but with this one I’m sorry to say I was emotionally unmoved by the story and intellectually confused. That possibly reflects my intellectual shallowness. But I'm not sure that it does.