The cleverness of this memoir’s structure is delightful. After the case history, the last 70 pages or so of the book feature detailed analytic process material that suggests an explanation for the author’s behavior. We must always be skeptical, of course, about how an analysand portrays his or her analyst because these portrayals are colored by transference. Mehta’s analyst is depicted as mocking, aloof, and disconcertingly didactic. Nevertheless, he offers a number of reasonably compelling formulations that help the reader understand the author’s propensity for self-defeating relationships. Mehta analogizes his relationship to his analyst as that of Faust to Mephistopheles (negative transference, anyone?). He also notes, however, that as time went on, his analyst’s persistent interpretive strategy made him realize how his connection to his mother was inexorably undermining his relationships with women. His analyst also helps him see how his denial of blindness had been instrumental in behaviors that were life-threatening, such as taking a date on a wild car ride as an adolescent even though he was totally blind. Unfortunately, an equal number of the analyst’s interventions are depicted as formulaic and unconvincing.