This pseudo-philosophy of mine - pollyanalytics, as one of my respected critics might say - is deduced from the novels and poems, not the reverse. The novels and poems come unwatched out of one's pen. And then the absolute need which one has for some sort of satisfactory mental attitude towards oneself and things in general makes one try to abstract some definite conclusions from one's experiences as a writer and as a man. The novels and poems are pure passionate experience. These pollyanalytics are inferences made afterwards, from the experience.

Although cognitive psychology and neuroscience have usurped the influential position once held by psychoanalysis, this volume seeks to reclaim the value of the unconscious as a methodological tool for the study of ancient texts by transforming our understanding of what it means, how it operates, and how it relates to textual hermeneutics.

Fantazus Mallare is a tortured artist who is slowly descending into madness. In a search for a muse and aided by a dwarf-monster, Goliath, Mallare tries to make sense of the world of reason versus that of insanity. Since its publication in 1924 and being banned in 1928 by the US Government, the book has achieved a cult status that strips the veneer of sanity, religion, lust and art. Musaicum Books presents to you the meticulously edited book with all the original black and white illustrations which earned it both its notoriety and praise. Excerpt: "FantaziusMallare considered himself mad because he was unable to behold in the meaningless gesturings of time, space and evolution a dramatic little pantomime adroitly centered about the routine of his existence. He was a silent looking man with black hair and an aquiline nose. His eyes were lifeless because they paid no homage to the world outside him. When he was thirty-five years old he lived alone high above a busy part of the town. He was a recluse. His black hair that fell in a slant across his forehead and the rigidity of his eyes gave him the appearance of a somnambulist. Twenty-twoHe found life unnecessary and submitted to it without curiosity. His ideas were profoundly simple. The excitement of his neighborhood, his city, his country and his world left him unmoved. He found no diversion in interpreting them. A friend had once asked him what he thought of democracy. This was during a great war being waged in its behalf. Mallare replied: "Democracy is the honeymoon of stupidity."