The World According to Bertie - Alexander Hanchett Smith [131]
Dr Fairbairn, aware of her gaze, fingered the cuff of his sleeve self-consciously. ‘I’ll give you a copy of the paper,’ he said. ‘When it’s finished. I know of your interest in these things.’
‘Argentina?’ said Irene.
‘Yes, Buenos Aires. My friend Ettore is one of their best-known analysts there. He has a very extensive practice.’
Irene nodded. She had heard that there were more psychoanalysts in Buenos Aires than anywhere else in the world, but was not sure why this should be. It seemed strange to her that a country associ-ated with gauchos and pampas should also have all those analysts. She asked Dr Fairbairn why.
‘Ah!’ he said. ‘That is the question for Argentine analysts. They’re immensely fortunate, you know. Everyone, or virtually everyone, in Buenos Aires is undergoing analysis. It’s very common indeed.’
‘Surprising,’ said Irene. ‘Mind you, the Argentine psyche is perhaps a bit . . .’
‘Fractured,’ said Dr Fairbairn. ‘They’re a very charming people, but they have a somewhat confused history. They go in for dreams, the South Americans. Look at Peronism. What did it mean? Evita? Who was she?’
For a moment, they were both silent. Then he continued. ‘I think the reason Freud is so popular in Argentina is, like most of these things, explained by a series of coincidences. It just so happened that at the time that Freudian ideas were becoming popular in Europe, the Argentine public was in a receptive mood for scientific ideas. You must remember that Argentina in the twenties and thirties was a very fashionable place.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Irene. She was not going to let him think that she knew nothing about all that. ‘The tango . . .’
‘Hah!’ said Dr Fairbairn. ‘The tango was actually invented by a Uruguayan. The Argentines claimed him, but he was born in Uruguay.’
‘Oh.’
‘But no matter,’ he went on. ‘The point is that Jornada, one of the most popular newspapers in Buenos Aires, actually started a daily psychoanalytical column in the early thirties. It appeared under the byline “Freudiano”, and readers were invited to send in their dreams for analysis by Freudiano. The paper then told them what the dreams revealed – all in Freudian terms.’
‘But what a brilliant idea!’ said Irene. ‘Perhaps The Scotsman could do that.’
‘Are we not perhaps a little too inhibited in Scotland?’ asked Dr Fairbairn.
‘But that’s exactly the problem,’ said Irene heatedly. ‘If we were to . . . to open up a bit, then we would all become so much more . . .’
Dr Fairbairn waited. ‘Like the Argentines?’ he ventured.
Irene laughed. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘They’ve had a tendency to go in for dictators, haven’t they?’
‘Father figures,’ said Dr Fairbairn.
‘And generals too,’ added Irene.
‘Military figures,’ said Dr Fairbairn.
‘But they do dance so marvellously,’ mused Irene. ‘And there’s something deeply appealing about a Latin American type. They’re so tactile.’
Dr Fairbairn watched her. This conversation was fascinating, but it was straying into dangerous territory. He should bring it back to the topic in hand, which was not the history of Freudian theory in Buenos Aires, nor Latin American sultriness, but Bertie. How was Bertie doing? And, in particular, how was he getting on with his new brother, Ulysses? But that triggered another thought in his mind: where exactly was Ulysses? He asked the question.
86. Bertie and the Baby: an Expert Explanation
‘Ulysses is in the waiting room,’ said Irene. ‘In his baby buggy. Sound asleep.’
‘I see,’ said Dr Fairbairn. ‘And how is Bertie reacting to him?’
Irene was always ready to see psychological problems, but she had to admit that in his dealing with his brother, Bertie showed very little sign of resentment.
‘He’s very accepting,’ she said. ‘There appears to be no jealousy, although . . .’ She hesitated. She had remembered Bertie’s comments on the baby that had been mistakenly brought