Website Inaugural Paper


DEVELOPMENTS IN KLEINIAN TECHNIQUE

 Elizabeth Spillius

 November, 2000

            In this paper I will describe some of what I regard as the central themes in the development and current practice of Kleinian technique

            With Melanie Klein it is always important to remember that her work began with the analysis of children.   Looking back  now to her earliest work, she seems to have had a touchingly naïve faith in Freud's method.   Once she actually began analysing children (in addition to her own child, 'Fritz') she tried to get them to lie down on the couch and to free-associate, and it was some time before she realised that this method was not really appropriate and so she went to get an armful of her own children's toys for one of her younger patients to use and so embarked on her version of the famous 'play technique' (Klein, 1955).   But in spite of the play technique Klein stuck as closely as possible to Freud's method:  sessions five times a week, rigorous maintenance of the setting, emphasis on transference as the central focus of analyst-patient interaction, and emphasis on interpretation as the main agent of therapeutic change.  

There is something very vivid about Klein's way of working, a sense of immediacy and immense bodily concreteness about the children's phantasies that she deduced.   Looking back now some of this early work still seems striking but  hardly  surprising,  though at the time it must have been quite shocking.   For example, here is Peter, aged 3 years and nine months, in his first and second session (Klein, 1932, p. 17):

At the very beginning of his first session Peter took the toy carriages and cars and put them first one behind the other and then side by side, and alternated this arrangement several times.   In between he took two horse-drawn carriages and bumped one into another, so that the horses' feet knocked together, and said: 'I've got a new little brother called Fritz.'   I asked him what the carriages were doing.   He answered:  'That's not nice,' and stopped bumping them together at once, but started again quite soon.  Then he knocked two toy horses together in the same way.   Upon which I said:  'Look here, the horses are two people bumping together.'  At first he said:  'No, that's not nice,' but then, 'Yes, that's two people bumping together,' and added:  'The horses have bumped together too, and now they're going to sleep.'  Then he covered them up with bricks and said:  'Now they're quite dead;  I've buried them.'   In his second session he at once arranged the cars and carts in the same two ways as before - in a long file and side by side;  and at the same time he once again knocked two carriages together, and then two engines - just as in the first session.   He next put two swings side by side and, showing me the inner and longish part that hung down and swung, said:  'Look how it dangles and bumps.'  I then proceeded to interpret.  Pointing to the 'dangling' swings, the engines, the carriages and the horses, I said that in each case they were two people - Daddy and Mummy - bumping their 'thingummies' (his word for genitals) together.  He objected, saying:  'no, that isn't nice', but went on knocking the carts together, and said:  'That's how they bumped their thingummies together.'   Immediately afterwards he spoke about his little brother again  . . . .  

There is another feature that was typical of Klein's early work and that has continued to be a leitmotif in Kleinian analysis:  the negative transference.   (See especially, Klein 1955 and Frank, 2000.)   Where Anna Freud and her Viennese colleagues at first thought the analyst should cultivate the positive transference with children (Freud, A., 1927), Klein thought the analyst would get the analytic situation more effectively established by interpreting the child's negative as well as positive feelings both about the analyst and the analytic situation and, more generally, about what was going on in his inner world.  Klein did not do this in order to convince the child and later the adult of his own badness, but because she thought negative feelings were the greatest source of anxiety and needed to be fully known in order to be lived with, possibly modified, or used as constructively as possible.

            Klein thought that unconscious phantasy was always based on bodily functions and she phrased her interpretations to children in vivid bodily language.    This indeed was one of criticisms levelled at Klein during the Controversial Discussions of the British Society (King and Steiner Eds. 1991), namely, that Klein was assuming that infants and small children were having phantasies and thoughts of which they would not have been capable.    Anna Freud is especially pungent about the absurdity of  so-called 'deep' interpretations.  'It has always puzzled me,' she says, 'how it was possible in Kleinian technique to interpret deeply repressed cannibalistic phantasies in the beginning of analysis without meeting absolute disbelief in the patient or without strengthening his resistance.'   (King and Steiner, 1991, p. 425).   But Klein always retained her emphasis on unconscious phantasy in spite of the criticisms, but I think that in her work with adults, as described for example in Envy and Gratitude, she phrased it a language less specifically 'bodily', though never losing in directness.   This change in linguistic phrasing  continued after her death.  Where Klein would have talked about 'breast' and 'penis', we are nor more likely to talk about functions:  taking in, swallowing, listening, thinking, evacuating.   It all sounds more reasonable, less shocking.   But there is a danger in this approach too, a danger that Klein's concepts of unconscious phantasy and the inner world will get so much watered down that some of the clinical richness and imaginativeness of her approach may get lost.

            I think, in addition to changes of the content of interpretations, there are three respects in which Klein and her various colleagues have developed and changed Freud's technical approach, especially his views on transference.   First there is Strachey's idea of the mutative interpretation.   Second is Klein's idea of transference as a 'total situation' (Klein, 1952).  Third is the idea of the role of projective identification and counter-transference in the analytic relationship leading to what I will describe as 'transference as enactment'.  

Strachey and the 'mutative interpretation'.

            As is well known, it was Strachey's idea that the patient projected his archaic superego on to the analyst and that the analyst, by behaving differently from the patient's expectation, may be able to show the patient, in a series of small steps, that he is not acting like the patient's archaic superego, and the patient may be able to take in these new aspects of what Strachey calls the 'auxiliary superego' (Strachey, 1934).   The point that Strachey makes, and certainly the point that Klein emphasises, is that it was transference interpretations that were most likely to be mutative.   But what exactly did Klein mean by 'transference interpretation'?

Klein's idea of transference as the 'total situation'

Freud had defined transference as the revival and expression in the analysis of experiences with early primary objects.   Freud phrases this revival as being felt '. . .not as belonging to the past but as applying to the person of the physician at the present moment'  (Freud, 1905, S.E 7, p. 116).    Klein extended this idea, saying that what is transferred into the analytic relationship is not so much the actual relationship that existed with a particular person of the past, but rather the place of that person in the patient's inner world, which is an amalgam of actual experience and unconscious phantasy, constantly processed by projection, re-introjection, and re-projection, so that the mother of the inner world, for example, may be rather different from the actual mother of the past.     This is the way Klein puts it in her paper 'The origins on transference'.

I hold that transference originates in the same processes which in the earliest stages determine object-relations.   Therefore we have to go back again and again in analysis to the fluctuations between objects, loved and hated, external and internal, which dominate early infancy   (Klein, 1952, p. 53).

It is my experience that in unravelling the details of the transference it is essential to think in terms of total situations transferred from the past into the present, as well as of emotions, defences, and object-relations.

For many years - and this is up to a point still true today - transference was understood in terms of direct references to the analyst in the patient's material.   My conception of transference as rooted in the earliest stages of development and in deep layers of the unconscious is much wider and entails a technique by which from the whole material presented the unconscious elements of the transference are deduced.   For instance, reports of patients about their everyday life, relations, and activities not only give an insight into the functioning of the ego, but also reveal - if we explore their unconscious content - the defences against the anxieties stirred up in the transference situation.   For the patient is bound to deal with conflicts and anxieties re-experienced towards the analyst by the same methods he used in the past  (Klein, 1952, p. 55).

Klein also began to think that transference was even more central than Freud had thought, although it is also clear that in her own clinical work she made many extra-transference interpretations.   She makes clear, especially in unpublished lectures in the Klein archive, that she does not think any transference interpretation is complete if it only refers to the 'here-and-now' of the session (Melanie Klein Archive, PP/KLE/C59).   She thought the analyst should link the present up to the phantasies and if possible to the realities of the remembered past.   This approach led, I believe, to a less explanatory sort of analysis and to richer and more varied clinical work.    So, where Freud had at first made didactic explanations to his patients and then began to stress the role of transference and to use it as evidence for his deductions and reconstructions, Klein carried this trend further, focusing even more than Freud on the analyst/patient relationship, but not, perhaps, as much as many analysts do today. 

The role of projective identification and counter-transference in the analytic relationship

            Klein developed the idea of projective identification in 1946 in the course of describing the paranoid-schizoid position, a way of thinking and feeling she thought was characteristic of early infancy but which she also thought might  be continued  by many individuals into childhood and adulthood.   In it good and bad experiences are omnipotently kept split apart as much as possible, the good being idealised and the bad demonised.  In phantasy good and bad feelings are projected into external objects so that they too are seen as split.   The individual thus lives in a world in which he and some of his objects are very bad, some are felt to be extremely good, and whole objects, that is, objects recognised to be both good and bad, are not yet perceived as such.   In this constellation of anxieties and typical object relationships, Klein thought that omnipotent projection, introjection, splitting, idealisation and denial were the major defences.   She describes projective identification as a process in which the individual splits off aspects of himself, projects them in phantasy into an external object, and then reacts to the object as if it were the self or the part of the self that has been projected into it.   This can happen with both good and bad aspects of the self, though it has been the bad aspects that have mainly been talked about in the literature.

            Klein's colleagues and students gradually began to use her idea of projective identification and found that it greatly enriched their understanding of object relations in general and of the analytic relationship in particular.   So much is this the case that projective identification has become perhaps Klein's most popular concept, having been adopted by many other schools of thought, even though it is now sometimes used in ways that Klein herself would not have recognised.

            It is important to stress that Klein thought of projective identification as the patient's phantasy.   In cases of projection by a patient into the analyst, Klein  thought that the analyst should not be emotionally affected by the projection.   If the analyst were affected, Klein thought it was because the analyst was not working properly.   But Bion, in particular, began to show how a patient's projection might affect the analyst emotionally and how, if the analyst understood what was happening correctly, he could use his own emotional responses as a source of information about the patient.   In Language and the Schizophrenic (Bion, 1955) , for example, he gives a striking illustration of a session with a psychotic patient in which, although the patient at first seemed calm, Bion felt a growing fear that the patient would attack him.   Bion interpreted that the patient was pushing into Bion's insides the patient's fear that he would attack Bion.   The tension in the room then lessened, but the patient clenched his fists.   Bion then interpreted that the patient had taken his fear of murdering Bion back into himself, and was now afraid that he might actually make a murderous attack on Bion.  

            This sort of use by the analyst of his emotional responses makes for vivid analysis but is of course susceptible to error and misuse.   The dangers are that the analyst will be overwhelmed by the patient's projection and will become unable to think, or that he will refuse to take in the projected emotion, or that he will get caught up in some form of mutual acting out with the patient such as mutual idealisation or a sado-masochistic encounter.   The basic difficulty for the analyst, as Money-Kyrle describes it, ' . . . is in differentiating the patient's contribution from his own' (Money-Kyrle, 1956).   Klein herself thought that too much departure from the idea of projective identification as the patient's phantasy would lead the analyst to blame patients for their own deficiencies and mistakes.   For the same reason she also did not like Paula Heimann's idea of widening the notion of counter-transference to include all the analyst's emotional responses to the patient and using them as a source of information about the patient (Heimann, 1950).   And indeed, although I think the use of the ideas of projective identification and counter-transference have greatly enriched our understanding of the analytic relationship, we also need to be aware of the dangers of getting preoccupied with monitoring our own feelings to the detriment of direct contact with the patient's material.  

            But projective identification and counter-transference have won the day, so to speak.   Taken together, they have greatly influenced our view of the analyst/patient relationship and have led us to look increasingly to understand  the actions of the patient, his unconscious pressures, sometimes gross, sometimes very subtle, to get the analyst to feel certain feelings, think certain thoughts, act in certain ways.   All this has become as important, sometimes more important, than the actual verbal content of sessions.   This emphasis, sometimes described as focus on 'enactment' by patient and analyst, has been particularly important in the work of Betty Joseph (1989), who describes in a series of technical papers how patients constantly 'nudge' their analyst to behave in accordance with the patient's unconscious phantasies and expectations.   This is Joseph's way of describing what Joseph Sandler calls 'actualisation' (Sandler, 1976a and 1976b).   Joseph tends to focus on the immediate analyst/patient relationship first before linking it with the patient's view of his past (Joseph, 1985), but this is a topic on which there is considerable variation from analyst to analyst (Spillius, 1988, Vol. 2, pp. 15-16).

Stereotypes, variation, my own view

            Kleinian technique is sometimes seen as rigid, with too much stress on transference interpretation, too little appreciation of the therapeutic effect of extra-transference interpretation, too much focus on what Rickman (1951)  described as the 'here-and-now' of the session, and too much emphasis on destructiveness and too little on the 'environment'.   (See especially Blum, 1983; Couch, 1995;  Gill, 1982;  Greenson, 1974;  Stewart, 1992;  Winnicott , 1956. )    Of course being a Kleinian analyst I do not agree with the general  sort of stereotyping that this characterisation suggests, though individual instances must occur of one sort or another.

            My own view is that more attention tends to be paid nowadays by both Kleinians and many other analytic schools (see Cooper, 1987) to transference as enactment than was the case twenty or thirty years ago, but there is much variation in the way Kleinian analysts have combined the three ideas of the mutative interpretation, transference as a total situation, and transference as enactment.   There is variation both from analyst to analyst and from work with one patient to work with another (Britton, 1998).   Klein herself made many extra-transference interpretations, as her work with Richard shows (Klein, 1960) and she had a remarkable clinical gift for sensing and describing unconscious phantasies.   As I have said, she was more cautious than many of her colleagues about making full clinical use of the  concepts of projective identification and counter-transference.    Bion, as I have described, led the way in developing the idea of enactment and counter-transference in the analytic relationship.   Betty Joseph has continued and developed his approach;  she focuses primarily on the immediate analyst/patient situation (Joseph, 1985, 1989).   Segal's way of working is perhaps closest to Klein's though she uses the idea of transference as enactment more than Klein did (Segal, 1989).    Rosenfeld did not focus as strictly on the analyst/patient relationship as many of his colleagues;  he believed that the important thing was to take up whatever was urgent in the material, wherever it was located. (See especially Rosenfeld, 1987.)   He thought that insistent transference interpretations were unwise with traumatised patients and that one should pay close attention to the patient's perceptions of the analyst, especially of the analyst's failings (Rosenfeld, 1986 and 1987).   He was critical of what he called the 'Me Too' school of interpretation in which everything the patient says is translated into a statement about the analyst.    This sort of variation among Kleinian analysts has been continued in the younger generation.  (See especially Brenman Pick, 1985;  Britton, 1989;  Feldman        ;  Malcolm, 1994;  O'Shaughnessy, 1992;  Roth, In press; Sodre,  In press;  J. Steiner, 1984 and 1993 Chapter 11.)

In my own work I find that thoughts about both the patient's immediate and longstanding relationship with me are always in my mind, though not always in the foreground of it.   I think too that whatever one's view of transference may be - and I think it important to know that whether one likes it or not one is bound to have a theoretical view - it should be sufficiently formulated and accepted by oneself to be allowed to be in the back of one's mind.   If the analyst becomes too preoccupied with it either consciously or unconsciously he is likely to foist it on his patient.   Freud (1912b), Bion (1967) and Sandler (1976b) all warn against having too set an idea of what one should see.   I would re-phrase this somewhat:  I think it is when one is preoccupied or troubled about what one should see that one's receptiveness is most likely to be disturbed.   Further, psychoanalytic work involves both uncertainty and clinical responsibility, a difficult combination which can foster both anxiety to conform and determination to be original, neither of which is a good basis for impartial curiosity.   I find it important when working to have a free-floating expectancy about the complexities of the patient's inner world and the way he may use the opportunities presented by the session to express them.   I frequently find myself musing about the patient's remembered history even when I am interpreting something in the immediate relationship;  and conversely I often find that I am keeping in mind the current atmosphere and relationship in the session when I am verbally addressing something in the past.   It is my belief that the analyst should work from a double perspective.  His readiness to focus on the interaction of transference and counter-transference involves a form of what anthropologists, who I believe invented the term, call 'participant observation', that is, an emotional involvement and interaction with the patient which is, however, combined with study of that involvement from an outside perspective.   One hopes, as James McLaughlin felicitously puts it, to achieve binocular not double vision (McLaughlin, 1993).

My own way of working and some of its variations.

            To illustrate, I will describe sessions with two patients.

LINDA, Aged 3 years 6 months, in 1968.

            This session took place when focus was beginning to shift away from interpretations involving anatomical part-object language and more towards mental functions and the immediate transference/counter-transference situation.  I was very much aware of Linda's current situation outside the analysis, and it was my sudden realisation that she seemed to be living this out in the session that led to the particular interpretation of the primal scene that I made.

After saying some words normally when she was about a year and a half, Linda had stopped speaking.   At that time her parents had moved into a one-room flat while waiting to be re-housed.   Another child was born when Linda was two and a quarter years old and since that time she had refused to say a word.   She was also said by her mother to be stubborn and disobedient.

            After the first long break in her analysis Linda came along readily to the playroom and the minute I had shut the door she started undoing the buttons of my overall and trying to look inside - a very deft, quick movement.

            After a pause for thought, I said she thought that when I'd left her for so long I'd been with my husband making a baby, and she was looking to find it.

            She turned away and with great vigour got out several plastic cups and filled them with water.   Then she put some bits of paper and plasticine in one, put another on top of it to make a lid, and gave it good shake.   I said she was trying to show me that she could make a baby too, and furthermore she could do it all by herself.   She gave me a withering look, but she took the top cup off and peered inside.   Then she threw the whole thing on the floor in my direction.

            I said she was furious - it was only water and paper and plasticine.   It was just pooh and pee, no baby.   While I was saying this she quickly pushed a table beside a bookcase, climbed on top of the bookcase and marched up and down.

            I said she wanted me to think she didn't care if she couldn't make a baby.   She was getting very excited and wanted to show me that she was bigger and more important than I was even if she couldn't make a baby.   She hummed the tune of 'I'm the king of the castle and you're the dirty rascal'.  Unwisely I turned my head away for a moment and in that moment she leaped on my back and the two of us crashed noisily down together on to the floor.   After I had made sure that neither of us was hurt, I said she was being the daddy and leaping on my back the way she thought her Daddy did to her Mummy did when they were together in bed and made babies - and I added that she wanted to bash up both me and the baby she thought I might have been making.   She looked a bit sobered.   Then she nodded.   Shortly afterwards she began to speak, first at home and then in her sessions.

            This was not a simple transference on to me of feelings about her mother or her father.   It was that, but more too.   It was an enactment of the aggressive, damaging sort of intercourse she felt that her parents were having and that she wanted me to have;  she was attacking both me as mother but also the baby inside me.   I do not of course know whether her parents' intercourse was as violent as Linda thought;  whatever its nature, I assume that her perception of it was influenced by her own impulses.   Although I did not interpret it fully at the time, I think Linda was expressing something else in addition to her sadistic view of intercourse.    She had given me quite a shock, and I think that in so doing she was giving me a graphic demonstration of how violent and persecuting she felt her parents' intercourse was and how frightened and resentful she felt at constantly having to witness it - she was always provoked, always excluded, but never excluded enough to feel even partially free of it.   I suppose one could say that her elective mutism was her way of saying that she felt that what she was going through was unspeakable.   Unconsciously she was trying to evoke in me her own feelings of shock and outrage - an example of the communicative potential of projective identification, of transference viewed as enactment.

Finally, an example from an adult, MRS A. 

            In this session we both became absorbed in analysing an unusually expressive dream, perhaps too much absorbed, I thought later, so that I  missed some of the importance of the dream as an enactment in the session.  

It was the penultimate session of Mrs A's long analysis and, although I do not want to give all the details of the session, it touched on many issues of her infancy, the difficult years of her adolescence and adulthood and of her current situation, including the analysis itself and its end.   In the course of the session Mrs A reported a dream.

            She was in New Zealand.   She was travelling through the interior.   She knew that she was a foreigner there and she was allowed to travel through the country but wasn't allowed to settle there.   As she drove along she wondered what would happen if the car broke down.   She was in a wood and there were people there who seemed to be blue.   They looked almost as if they were the trunks of trees but they were actually people.   They were the native people.   She knew that there was some idea that she ought not to disturb them, that they were very primitive but they had their own lives and their own way of doing things, their strange customs, which shouldn't be disturbed.   Then she saw one of them lying down in the road and she thought to herself, 'I must be careful.   I mustn't kill that one.'  That was the end of the dream.

            Although I did not say so directly to my patient, I found this dream very moving. In a compressed and visual form it conveyed her conception of the experience of analysis, including its imminent ending, but beyond that the dream seemed to link this situation with earlier, sensual, pre-verbal experiences, probably originating in infancy, perhaps concerned with observing and being observed.   I thought that she did not literally remember these experiences, but unconsciously felt them to be alive in the present as feelings in her inner world - the kind of experience that Klein describes as 'memories in feeling'.   (Klein, 1957.)

            I asked why did she think it was New Zealand and she said she'd no idea.   I said I thought 'New Zealand' meant 'new-seeing-land', and she laughed.   (She had occasionally described analysis as a new way of seeing things.)   'It was a strange dream,' she went on to say, 'and I think it's about the world inside my mind, inside mine and perhaps yours too, the strange world I have been in here.  Just the way it actually is, I'm allowed to visit but I can't stay permanently.' 

            I agreed and went on to say that this strange land with its primitive people was an attempt to describe her feeling not only about her analysis and about me, but about the way, as she'd said, she felt about the 'interior', the inside of my mind.   These were the thoughts and people inside me that gave me my particular character and individuality and that made it possible for me to give her something that was different from what she could give herself.   It was as if I had a sort of intercourse with these strange beings, an intercourse whose outcome was valuable to her, but which at the same time made her feel angry, even murderous.   (I was thinking at this moment in the session, perhaps too explicitly, about the strange wood as an internal version of the primal scene with herself as observer which Britton (1989)  describes as 'triangular space'.)

            'You mean because there was that one I had to be careful not to kill.   I suppose what you're saying is that I wouldn't have had to think about not killing him if I hadn't wanted to.   It's jealousy again.'

            'And yet you make it clear', I said, 'how much you've valued being in that strange world even if it does make you so jealous.   And you've said too that it's a picture of the inside of your own mind as well as mine.'

            She reminded me that she had very mixed feelings about the objects in my room.  (These are various bits and pieces from my anthropological past.)   I said her description of this primitive land where people had their own dignity and their own customs had some connection with her knowledge that I was an anthropologist and that she knew I had lived and worked in so-called 'primitive' societies.   I thought the atmosphere of the dream conveyed much of what she felt about her analysis:  she felt not only that she was visiting my room and my mind, but also that I was a temporary visitor/anthropologist to her mind, observing the world of her past and her present as it lived inside her now.    The blue of the bodies, it emerged, came from the feeling of the consulting room with its blue rug.   And perhaps the people were like trees because of the Tree of Life pattern of the blue rug.   She said she thought the unconscious mind was extraordinary. 

            As the session drew to a close she talked of leaving, loss, and fear of a possible breakdown - a reference to her difficult past and perhaps future, and to the detail in the dream about what would happen if her car broke down.   She also expressed gratitude for my having given her 'gifts', especially the gift of greater tolerance of her mother's unhappiness and its effect on herself.   And she expressed a wish that there would be some sort of gift she could give me.   Perhaps the gift was the dream itself, I said, and I went on to describe the complex atmosphere of the session:  the pervasive feeling of sadness and hope;  the wish and fear that I would be unrealistically encouraging;  her pride and misgiving about having to manage all this on her own.           

            This session was suffused with the feelings about ending which were having a powerful effect on both of us.  If I were doing it again I would stress rather more the pressure for both of us to idealise the work and for mutual harmony  between us in the face of the inevitable uncertainties of ending.  But in spite of seeing this additional perspective I somehow doubt if I would have interpreted the dream very differently.

            I have tried to convey something of the Kleinian approach to technique, namely, the combination of the ideas of the mutative interpretation, transference as a total situation, and interpretation of the effect of projective identification and counter-transference on the analyst/patient relationship.   Inevitably every analyst uses these ideas in his own way, according to his own character and experience, and according to differences in his patients.   I have tried to describe my way, including two of its variations.

REFERENCES

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BION, W.R.  (1967)   Notes on memory and desire.  The Psychoanalytic Forum, 2: 272-273 and 279-280.   Also in SPILLIUS, E. BOTT (Ed.)  Melanie Klein Today, Vol. 2, Mainly Practice,  London: Routledge, pp. 17-21.

BLUM, H.P.  (1983)  The position and value of extratransference interpretation.  Journal of the American Psychoanalytical Association.   34: 309-328.

BRENMAN PICK, I.  (1985)  Working through in the counter-transference.   International Journal of Psycho-Analysis, 66: 157-166.  A slightly revised version is also published in SPILLIUS, E. BOTT (Ed.) Melanie Klein Today, Vol. 2, Mainly Practice, London:  Routledge, pp. 34-47. 

BRITTON. R.  (1989)  The missing link:  parental sexuality in the Oedipus complex.  In Britton et al, The Oedipus Complex Today, Ed. John Steiner.  London:  Karnac, pp. 83-101

BRITTON, R.  (1998)  Contribution to Panel Discussion 'The Controversial Discussions Sixty Years Later',  Fall Meeting of the American Psychoanalytical Association, New York.

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COUCH, A.  (1995)  Anna Freud's psychoanalytic technique:  A defence of classical analysis.   International Journal of Psycho-Analysis, 76: 153-171.

FELDMAN, M.   (1997)  Projective identification:  The analyst's involvement.  International Journal of Psycho-Analysis, 78: 227-241.

FRANK, C.  (2000)  Melanie Kleins erste Kinderanalysen:  Die Entdeckung des Kindes als Objekt sui generis von Heilen und Forschen.  Frommann-Holzboog.

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GILL, M.   (1982)  Analysis of Transference:   Vol. 1, Theory and Technique.   Psychological Issues, Monograph 53.   New York:  International Universities Press.

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JOSEPH, B.  (1985)  Transference: The total situation.  International Journal of Psycho-Analysis, 66: 447-454.   Also in JOSEPH, B. (1989)  Psychic Equilibrium and Psychic Change.  London: Routledge, pp,  75-87, and in SPILLIUS, E. BOTT (Ed.) (1988)  Melanie Klein Today, Vol. 2,  Mainly Practice, London: Routledge, pp. 48-60.

JOSEPH, B. (1989) Psychic Equilibrium and Psychic Change.  London:  Routledge.

KING, P. AND STEINER, R.  (Eds.)  (1991)  The Freud-Klein Controversies, 1941-1945. London:  Routledge.

KLEIN, M.  (1932)  The Psycho-Analysis of Children.   Vol. 2 of The Writings of Melanie Klein, London: Hogarth Press and the Institute of Psycho-Analysis, (1975).

KLEIN, M.  (1946)  Notes on some schizoid mechanisms.  In Envy and Gratitude and Other Works, Vol. 3 of The Writings of Melanie Klein.  London:  Hogarth Press and the Institute of Psycho-Analysis. pp. 1-24.

KLEIN, M.  (1952)  The origins of transference.   In Envy and Gratitude and Other Works, Vol. 3 of The Writings of Melanie Klein, London: Hogarth Press and the Institute of Psycho-Analysis (1975) pp. 45-56.

KLEIN, M.   (1955)   The psycho-analytic play technique:  Its history and significance.  In Envy and Gratitude and Other Works, Vol. 3 of The Writings of Melanie Klein, London:  Hogarth Press and the Institute of Psycho-Analysis, (1975), pp. 122-140.

KLEIN, M.  (1957)  Envy and Gratitude.  In Envy and Gratitude and Other Works.  Vol. 3 of The Writings of Melanie Klein.  London:  Hogarth Press and the Institute of Psycho-Analysis.

KLEIN, M.  (1960)  The Narrative of a Child Analysis.  Vol. 4 of The Writings of Melanie Klein.  London:  Hogarth Press and the Institute of Psycho-Analysis. 

MELANIE KLEIN ARCHIVE.   Wellcome Institute for the History of Medicine. London.    Lecture on Child Analysis, PP/KLE/C59.

MALCOLM, R. RIESENBERG,  (1994)  Conceptualisation of clinical facts in the analytic process.  International Journal of Psycho-Analysis, 75: 1031-1040.

McLAUGHLIN, J.T.  (1993)  Work with patients:  The impetus for self analysis.  Psychoanalytic Inquiry, 13: No. 3, 365-389. 

MONEY-KYRLE, R.  (1956)  Normal counter-transference and some of its deviations.   In The International Journal of Psycho-Analysis, 37: 360-366.   Reprinted in The Collected Papers of Roger Money-Kyrle, 1978, Ed. Donald Meltzer with the assistance of Edna O'Shaughnessy, Strathtay, Perthshire:  Clunie Press.  

O'SHAUGHNESSY, E.  (1992)  Enclaves and excursions.   International Journal of Psycho-Analysis, 73: 603-611.

RICKMAN, J.  (1951)  Reflections on the function and organization of a psycho-analytical society, International Journal of Psycho-Analysis, 32: 218-237.

ROSENFELD, H.  (1986)  Transference-countertransference distortions and other problems in the analysis of traumatized patients.  Unpublished talk given to the Kleinian analysts of the British Psycho-Analytical Society.

ROSENFELD, H.  (1987)  Impasse and Interpretation.  London:  Routledge. 

ROTH, P.  (Written in 1996, now in press)  Mapping the landscape:  levels of transference interpretation.

SANDLER, J.  (1976a)  Dreams, unconscious fantasies and identity of perception.  International Review of Psycho-Analysis, 3: 33-42.

SANDLER, J.  (1976b)  Countertransference and role responsiveness.   International Review of Psycho-Analysis, 3: 43-47.

SEGAL, H.  (1989)  Interview with Hanna Segal.  In HUNTER, V.  Psychoanalysts Talk, New York:  Guilford Press, 1994, pp. 41-80. 

SODRE, I.   (Written in 1995, now in press)  Who's who?  Pathological forms of identification.

SPILLIUS, E. BOTT   ( Ed.) (1988) Melanie Klein Today, Vol. 2, Mainly Practice, London:  Routledge. 

STEINER, J.  (1984)  Some reflections on the analysis of transference:  A Kleinian view.  Psychoanalytic Inquiry, 4: 443-463.

STEINER, J.  (1993)  Problems of psychoanalytic technique:  patient-centred and analyst-centred interpretation.   Chapter 11 of Psychic Retreats, London:  Routledge.   Also in Psychoanalytic Inquiry, (1994), 14: 406-422.

STEWART, H.  (1992)  Psychic Experience and Problems of Technique.  London:  Routledge.

STRACHEY, J.  (1934)  The nature of the therapeutic action of psychoanalysis.  International Journal of Psycho-Analysis, 15 127-159.

WINNICOTT, D.W.   (1956)  Letter of 3^rd February, 1956 to Joan RiviÀre.  In Rodman, F. R. (Ed.)  The Spontaneous Gesture:  Selected Letters of D.W. Winnicott.  Cambridge, Mass:  Harvard University Press.

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