Your review of The Red Book by Carl Jung (New York: W.W. Norton, 2009) briefly mentions the tempera paintings illustrating this hefty tome written by hand in cramped German Gothic script between 1914 and 1930 (“Confronting the Unconscious,” October 10, 2009). In your estimation, the paintings reveal him to be “a gifted, if sometimes frightening, artist.” I beg to differ. Compared with the best of the art of the period, the writhing snakes and dragons, scowling prophets and monsters, leaden symbols and swirling patterns from his waking fantasies reveal a pathetic, if sometimes ridiculous, artist. His paintings fit perfectly into the New Age kitsch that has sprung to life partly with his help. They reek of the stuffy petty bourgeoisie of cramped Swiss villages, such as his native Kesswil in the canton of Thurgau. But, regardless of the fate of the weighty book of which they are part, they are destined to be revered and emulated by many an astrologer, palm reader, and tattoo artist. In this sense, and this sense only, Jung was undoubtedly gifted. Guided by his able hand, the New Age kitsch will only keep prospering.