Selections from the magazine’s deep archive of drawn neuroses. Cartoon by Charles Barsotti Therapy and cartooning may very well be symbiotic professions at this point. For the cartoonist, the doctor serves as both muse and captive audience. Also, it’s a medical fact that, if you shrink a brain enough, its contents are reduced to a single punch line. And how would therapists know how to arrange their offices, were it not for the definitive décor outlined by cartoonists: couch (check), plant (check), framed degree (check)? Since the earliest days of this magazine, when psychoanalysis was a relatively new shtick, analysts and their patients have been a cartoon staple. Peruse a sampling of the genre, by decade, by clicking the button below. Will doing so cure you? If laughter is indeed the best medicine, perhaps. Anyway, it’ll have to do until the end of August, when your therapist gets back from vacation. —Emma Allen, cartoon editor Support The New Yorker’s award-winning journalism. Subscribe today » |
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