Make no mistake—this does appear to have been a rather neurotic marriage. But why do we always assume that neurosis must be defeated, transcended, escaped? John Lennon learned not merely to make do with his compulsions but to make something fairly miraculous out of them. The marriage itself, first of all—neurotic, but also, as we used to say, liberated, with male and female roles confounded, not just reversed. Very few matriarchs get to run a $150 million counting house unless it is bequeathed to them, and stay-at-home fathers who can afford live-in help rarely attend to parenting with John’s care and intense devotion. But anyone who believes Yoko “dominated” her husband should located David Sheff’s superb Playboy interview, in which Lennon both credits Yoko with saving his life and finds it difficult to let her get a paragraph in edgewise. And anyone who wants to dismiss Yoko—with her astrology, her peace-is-here-if-you-want-it—as a paramystical crackpot should find me somebody else who can manage fortune like she was playing chess, learn to sing rock and roll, and make a genius happy all at the same time. This marriage was a saga of authotherapy with few parallels in our obsessively psychodramatic culture. It was also a great romance.