RolfAchilles N.B"Michael Singer: New Work" continues at the Renaissance Society Gallery, 4th floor Cobbthrough June 21. Daily, 11-4. Free.MoviesBandlands (Terrence Malick, 1974): To¬night at 6:45 and 10:45 in Quantrell. Doc;$1.50.Thieves Like Us (Robert Altman, 1973):Tonight at 8:30 in Quantrell. Doc; $1.50.Bedazzled (Stanley Donen, 1967): Tomorrow at 7:15 and 9:30 in Quantrell. Doc;$1.50.Champagne for Caesar (Richard Whorf,1950): Tuesday June 10 at 8:30 in the LawSchool Auditorium. LSF; $1.50.The Lady Eve (Preston Sturges, 1941):Thursday June 12 at 8:30 in the Law SchoolAuditorium. LSF; $1.50.I Shot Jesse James (Sam Fuller, 1949):Tonight at 5:30 and 7:30 at the Film Centerof the Art Institute, Columbus and Jackson443-3737. $2.Margana (Werner Herzog) ancin the Dunes (Hiroshi TeshigaTonight and tomorrow night al1517 W. Fullerton. 281 4114. $2.50;FataWomanhara):Facets,$3.50 for double feature.MusicThe Rita Warford/Mwata Bowden En¬semble: Tonight at 8 at the Blue Gargoyle,5655 University. 955 4108. $4 donation.Im Imports: At a fundraiser for the International People's Art Festival. Tomorrownight, 9-2 at the Winter Palace, 5100 Ellis.Donation.The Trouble Boys: Tonight and tomorrownight at B. Ginnings in Schaumburg.Chicago Chamber Orchestra with the Su¬zuki Academy of Chicago: Dieter Kober,conductor. Sunday at 3:30 pm on the South Portico of the Museum of Science and Industry. 684 1414. Free.Etc.Court Theatre Summer Schedule: All'sWell That Ends Well directed by Nick Ru-dall opens July 3. The Servant of Two Masters (Carlo Goldoni) directed by RobertSkoot opens July 10. Love's Labor's Lostdirected by James O'Reilly opens July 17.753 3581. Season tickets: $15; $13 students.Individual tickets: $6, Saturdays, $5, Fridays; $4.50 Wednesdays, Thursdays, andSundays; $3.50 Sunday matinees. $1 less forstudents except on Saturdays.Edmund White: Reading new fiction. Tonight at 8 in Ida Noyes. Free.The Community Art Fair: Chicago artistsdisplay their works. Tomorrow and Sundayin the park at 57th and Kenwood. 643-0969.Free.Faye Kicknosway and Naomi Lazard: poetry reading and slide show. Tonight at 8 atthe Museum of Contemporary Art, 237 E.Ontario. 861-0075. $3; $2 students.New Dances by Charlie Vernon: June 6, 7,8, 13, 14 and 15 at Hall Studio, 3435 N. Sheffield. 281 0824. $4.East Indian Classical Dance: Presentedby Hema Rujagopalan with Indian musicians. Sunday at 8:30 pm at MoMing, 1034W. Barry. 630-1318. $4; S3 students.Body Politic Festival of the Arts: Tomorrow and Sunday, noon 6. on Lincoln betweenBelden and Webster. 872 3000. $2.The Importance of Being Earnest: Monday at 8 pm over WFMT, 98.7 FM.S*T*A*R*S*T*R*U*C*K: New Wave Musical at the Space Place, 955 W. Fulton. June13, 14 20, 21 at 8 pm. 666 2426. $?For adults to.learn toDance Exercise ClaspsModern and ballet, be^f“®and advanced clas«»v&tS&'s1V®a*-*V TheChicago Literary ReviewsponsorsEdmund WhiteA uthor of Forgetting Elena.Nocturnes for the King of Naplesreading from his new fictionJune 6th, Friday8 p.m. Ida Noyes Library‘‘The American writer I mostadmire at the moment...”Viadmir NabokovA Reception Will Follow the ReadingFriday June 6Terrence Malick’sBADLANDS6:45 and 10:45Robert Altman’sTHIEVES LIKE US8:30June 7SaturdayOh no! We’re showing it again!Stanley Donen’sBEDAZZLEDStarringPeter Cook and Dudley MooreWith Raquel Welch as “Lilian Lust”Filmed in Panavision and withUrmenschgefuhlnaturlichkeit!All Films $1.50 Cobb Hall2 — The Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980BOOKSTORESPOWELL’SBOOKSTORESPOWELL’S OPEN HOUSEArgonne National LaboratoryJune 27, 79809:30 AM. to 4:30 PM.The General Public is invitedTickets are required for admittance.They may be requested by writing toArgonne National Laboratory, OPENHOUSE, Argonne, IL 60439, statingthe number of tickets requested, (1ticket per person).OPEN HOUSE HOTLINE972-2774Argonne is located l'/2 miles South of 1-55on Cass Avenue and about 1 '/2 miles westof Illinois 83.OWELL’S BOOKSTORES POWELL’S BOOKSTORES POWELCASHFORBOOKSBring us yourtired, your poor,your huddledvolumes.NEWLY EXPANDEDSECTIONSPhilosophyLinguisticsAnthropologyarcheologyPOWELL'S BOOKSTORE1501 E. 57th • 955-77803 9 A.M. - 11 P.M. Everyday And Don'tmForget...POWELL'SBOOKWAREHOUSE250,000Scholarly Titles35,000 German25,000 French8,000 Spanish8,000 Italian100,000 English(but allthe Russian hasbeen sold)POWELL'S BOOKWAREHOUSEl1020 S. Wabash,8th Floor341-074810:30-5Thurs - Sat.Take IC to 12thWalk 2 blocksPOWELL’S BOOKSTORES POWELL’S BOOKSTORES POWfm The Chicago Literary ReviewCopyright 1980 The Chicago Maroon Volume 89 Number toI do not think a newspaper should be symmetrical, trimmed like an English lawn.Rather, it should be somewhat untamed, like a wild orchard, so that it will pulsatewith life and shine with young talents.Introductionto this IssueThis is the year's last issue of the Chi¬cago Literary Review, and this time weoffer no theme, just a diverse collection ofreviews, fiction, poetry, and art gatheredfrom the local talent. Included is our livelyTranscript of the Small Press and LittleReview Forum, interviews with writer Ed¬mund White and poet Tess Gallagher, re¬views of several recent poetry books, asurvey of some of the more obscure HydePark novels, a look at two new books ongay issues, a review of Richard Sennett'slatest book Authority, a view of JonBerger's recent About Looking, as well asassorted other articles, along with new fic¬tion and poetry. Our thanks to all whohelped us throughout the year. Next year'sReview Editors will be Candlin Dobbs andRichard Kaye. A wonderful summer toall.Editors: Richard Kaye, Molly McQuadeArt Editor: Ed AllderdiceDesign/Production Manager: David MillerStaff: Jeff Cane, Lucy Conniff, Candlin Dobbs, Karen Hornick, Faye Is-serow Landes, Jake LevineContributors:Pamela Barrie is a graduate student in English.David Blix is studying theology in the Divinity School.Peter Burkholder is a graduate student in music.Mary Cash will go shamrock hunting in Ireland in the autumn.Tom Crow teaches in the art department. He will move on to Princeton inthe fall.Tim Erwin is a former editor of the Chicago Review. His issues won theIllinois Arts Council Best Illinois Magazine Award in 1976.Ron Gagnon was last cited in Jimmy's for disturbing the peace.Jack Helbig is a fourth year English major.Janet Ruth Heller is a founding mother of Primavera and is a Phd. candidate in the English department.Shelly Kaplan is a clown poet-storywriter who lives in Hyde Park. She received her training from Dash Willowbee, Esq., Jr. (a Ringling Bros, clown)and from the U of C economics department.Philip Maher is a student in the College.Roger Michener is on the Committee on Social Thought.Sydney E. Miller is a fifth-year student at the University about to flee HydePark for New York City.Catherine Mouly is a graduate student in comparative lit. She teaches ereative writing at Columbia College.Sara Plath is a writer and a freelance reviewer who lives on the Northside.Angelo Restivo, a lapsed Catholic with relatively few religious experiencesto speak of, spends his time in Chicago, where he makes films, writes onoccasion, teaches, etc.Alane Rollings lives in Chicago.John Rossheim is a fourth year English major specializing in the poetry ofphysics.Kathy Salmon is a fine arts student at the Art Institute.Margaret Savage is a student in the College.Lee Sorensen was born in Milwaukee in 1954, and likes cats and dogs (bigdogs especially).Susan Gwen Turk is studying mythology in the Divinity school — and in herapartment.Special thanks are due to Laura Ausick, David Miller, Adam O'Connor, Morgan Russell, LeslieWick, and the U of C Radio and Television OfficeIn the winter Chicago Literary Review, artists' credits wereinadvertently omitted from twographics. Ed Allderdice designed the cover, and Mary Cash drew the bird at the top of page 3.The Chicago Literary Review, Friday June 6, 1980 — 3Rosa Luxemburg»))EudoraEudora Welty was at U of C earlier thisquarter to deliver the Moody lecture atWoodward court. She spent almost a weekhere, staying at Woodward and visitingwith students and faculty. She was inter¬viewed during her visit by Faye IsserowLandes, along with reporters from the Tri¬bune and the Sun Times.Many adjectives can be and have beenused to describe Eudora Welty's storiesand novels, but the one which best sums upWelty in person is "charming". From themoment she came to greet us at the door tothe Lower Wallace lounge, Welty regaledus with ancedotes and offered a low key,modest view of regionalism, young writ¬ers, and the craft of writing — all in a softlilting drawl.Welty seemed almost embarrassed byher success and popularity, and was quickto note that when she first started writingshe collected a stack of rejection slips. Hermost interesting slip came from Esquire,which then had a policy of not publishingany stories written by women. When Weltysubmited "The Petrified Man" (in 1938)she received, along with the standard re¬jection form, a copy of an inter officememo: "Wonderful beauty parlor, atmosphere — exception?" and someone hadscrawled across the bottom, "No exceptions!".While not even Welty herself denies thatin recent years (particularly since her Pu¬litzer Prize for The Optimist's Daughter in1972) she has entered the ranks of Ameri¬ca's foremost writers, Welty claimed that Welty atEudora Weltyher fame has little to do with her writing.According to Welty, after her appearanceon the Dick Cavett show this past summershe received innumerable letters whichbegan, "Although I've never read any of ,your stories, I feel like I've known you my Jwhole life. .Still, Welty is recognized as one of theelder stateswomen of American letters.Often called upon to review books for theNew York Times Book Review and other Chicagopublications, she sees herself "not so mucha critic as an appreciator," and turnsdown reviews of poorly written books because she feels sorry for the author "whohad probably spent an entire year out ofhis life writing the book."When asked to name young writers whodeserved enthusiastic reviews, Welty, whoreads a great deal, immediately mentioned Reynolds Price, Anne Tyler, EllenDouglas (praising the last for her "solidly,beautifully done novels"' and ElizabethSpenser, a Southerner living in Montreal.Welty noted these authors' originality, individuality and vitality, and said that shesensed that they had "a lot more coming".The one other contemporary authorwhose name kept on cropping up in ourconversation was Walker Percy. Weltywholeheartedly praised his work, but whenwe mentioned Percy's belief that Southernwriting does not exist, Welty was a bit disturbed. Said she; "Walky oftght to beashamed". She then offered her own viewson Southern writing. She is delighted to beassociated in people's minds with otherSouthern women writers, notably Flannery O'Connor and Katherine AnnePorter. While she acknowledged that writers are very individualistic and that theremay be more differences than similaritiesamong them, she said that Southern writers share "a feeling, a sense of continuity,of what we've come from," a feeling that"you've been in one place for a longtime."She suggested that cities may change, but "courthouse towns and little towns retain their character," and "the Southerncharacter is indelible". Saying that she"expects and respects changes," Weltyadded that she anticipates that this Southern feeling will live as long as the institution of the family continues to exist. "Ithink the childlren growing up now still getit."Welty, whose literary output over theyears has been steady, keeps a standardregimen when she writes a story. Shemulls over her plot, characters, and dia¬logue while she washes the dishes andmakes the beds in the morning —"woman's work because, after all, I'm awoman" — and then sits down at her deskready to write. Although she loves writing,Welty said that she doesn't write "if I'mnot working on something. I don't knowhow." When asked if she was working onanything right now, Welty's only commentwas, "I'm way behind in carrying out whatI have ideas to do."Once she completes a story, Welty handsit over to her agent, who first sends it tothe New Yorker. Although Welty does nothave a "first rights" contract with theNew Yorker, fearing that if she did shemight limit the scope of her work by writ¬ing with the magazine's audience too muchin mind, she has had a long standing rela¬tionship with the magazine. Welty is onceagain modest when discussing her storiesand the New Yorker, saying, "HaroldRoss" (the New Yorker's first editor)"never published anything of mine. Hedidn't like it."The Varieties of Religious Experience A short storyfiction by Angelo Restivo1. In Case of EmergencyIt starts with a coincidence, usually. Youare walking around — downtown, probably— and just as you hear a low flying super¬sonic air force test plane fly overhead, younotice the Sign: "BOMB SHELTER INSIDE." Of course, from then on, you rarely hear those planes, but you can't help noticing the signs, the ominous signs, on allthe buildings.Then you find yourself in an elevator andyou are staring at the lighted numbersabove the door. You feel a slight rumble;your eyes dart away nervously. You discover the button: "IN CASE OF EMERGENCY, PRESS."Then you discover that your favorite littie neighborhood restaurant has promin¬ently displayed a rather ugly little yellowsign, with cartoon figures in grotesque postures, and another message: "FIRST AIDFOR CHOKING."By now, of course, you have becomehyper perceptive: "IN CASE OF FIRE,USE STAIRWELL": "FOR POLICE ASSISTANCE PLEASE PULL"; "DANGEROUS CURVE AHEAD."Then, someone tells you about heart-boings. You've never heard of them."Heart boings!" he says. "You know,you're walking down the street and yourheart is acting normal, da-DUM da DUMda-DUM; suddenly you feel a terrifyinghesitation, then...buh da-buh-da-buh da-DOOM!" "My God," you cry, "What doyou do?" "Well, you can always find a1place to sit down for a minute — a park'bench, a tenement stoop; the curb, ifyou're really desperate."Finally, you look up, and though thereare no discernable clouds, the sun seemsvaguely obscured. And the sky seems topress down around you, the air is heavyand dark and refuses to yield forth its sustenance no matter how deeply youbreathe. In panic, you look for a sign — butfor this emergency, none has yet been de vised.2. SensualityLacan's definition of the phallus:that which passes between man andwoman in the sexual act, but whichneither can totally possess.We are intrigued by Lacan especially because he has uttered phrases that no onehas thought possible: "the undiscoveredcontinent of female sexuality," for exam¬ple, which comes to mind as we staggerfrom the moviehouse showing In theRealm of the Senses, as we recall the se¬vered penis brandished by Woman Trium¬phant. Freud knew of the phallus only — henever knew her eyes.You sit in a dim cafeteria drinking coffeefrom a styrofoam cup, and what you firstnotice about the woman sitting alone in thenext booth is not her hair falling forwardas she leans toward the book, nor her lipsslightly parted in a self conscious half¬smile, nor her body hidden in layers ofclothing and disappearing beneath thesterile tabletop. It is the mysterious recog¬nition. She casually looks up from her bookand turns her head towards you. You blinkand look briefly away, then glance at heronce more. She waits a split second, thenlooks down at her book, her fingers pickingat the second from the-top button of herblouse. Later, of course, you tell jokes,brush thighs. Your fingers explore the but¬ton, until slowly the layers are strippedaway and you feel the unfathomablebreathless sighs on your neck as the wavesof her body lap against you in obscure or¬gasm.This uncharted geography — how vainlydo we, no longer children, look for itsmaps! At eight, we found discarded maga¬zines in the alley, grainy photographs thatonly hinted of hills, valleys, deltas. Attwelve, we discovered the island of Rapa,where at nightfall lithe women swaythrough groves of banana trees and beckonwith curved, uplifted fingers. Perhaps the closest we came was at thirteen, our awkward fingers sliding up a thigh, movingtoward Atlantis, and with a slight shiverwe thought there's nothing there.3. Country/Western"Batter my heart..."I don't know, I guess you could say we'rehappy. People say we make a good couple.You know, she acts crazy now and then,but hell. It goes away. It comes and itgoes.Like the time we went to Nashville. Itwas one of those times when, you know,she'd been jumping around the house likeshe had some kind of itch or something,until it got to the point where we were hat¬ing each other, and I said "There's onlyone thing to do: go to the Grand Ole Opry."She said, "Yes, that's where they singabout men being men and girls being girls." And so we thought everythingwould be so simple, like Tammy singing"Stand By Your Man," singing the wordslike she was praying; and every time shesang "Stand by your man, and show theworld you love him," all the redneck mensat back smiling and secure while the girlsstood by their men and ran their fingersaround the hair at the napes of their realmen's red necks. Then she said, "Let's goto a motel," and l said, "Okay," and so wefound a cheap one, and we did it, and afterwards she said, "It almost worked." Ipunched her in the mouth. I thought she'dhate me for it, and maybe she did exceptshe said, "My real man," and we got allhorny — I remember the blood runningdown my belly — and we did it again.Then we left. I started telling her stories,like Marlon Brando did in Last Tango inParis, only mine weren't as good becauseI'm no Marlon Brando. I said, "When I wasa kid I had a little puppy and when shegrew up I couldn't understand thosestrange moods she got in when it seemedshe didn't care about me at all, and thenone day she was in one of those moods andI let her out and the last I saw of her shewas running away in a pack of fierce-looking men dogs." "No, no!" she cried. I said,"The thing with my cousin Annie startedafter she went to Bonanza and got pto¬maine poisoning. Or maybe before, whenshe rolled her two hundred some poundsaround in my bed and said, 'Well cuz, showme you're a man!' But then she went home— she had her folks' basement with a sepa¬rate entrance — and began eating and eat¬ing until she couldn't get through thedoors." "No, no!" "Yes, and she beggedher folks to widen the door — 'A garagedoor,' a neighbor suggested — but herfolks were embarrassed to have her lum¬bering around outside so they didn't; theyjust knocked out a couple of interior wallsand brought her trays three times a day.""No, no!"So during the drive home she becamemore and more wigged out, and when we4 — The Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980The Success and Failure of John BergerJohn BergerWays of Seeing, Penguin, 1972.About Looking, Pantheon, 1980.The Success and Failure of Picasso,Pantheon, 1965, reprinted 1980.By Tom CrowYou all remember Civilization, right?Sir Kenneth Clark, achingly cultivatedyet avuncular and solicitous guide onyour excursion past the monuments ofart history. Produced to inaugerate colorbroadcasting on the BBC, it runsperiodically on public television here, andgets shown in colleges, schools, and forall I know, day care centers, as a 'painless introduction to "culture." Abook version, a big Christmas item a fewseasons back, took up residence on thenation's coffee tables.Civilization was based on some fairlydubious assumptions, for one, that the"civilized" could somehow be summedup in a curator's notion of high art. Butnever mind. In the cultural ghetto ofAmerican consciousness, we don'tquestion, we just consume. In Britain,however, Civilization didn't have the lastword. A sort of counter series wasmounted called Ways of "Seeing, meant tooffer a Left critique of Sir Kenneth'sassumptions about cultural permanence,transcendent beauty, the universality ofelite values (for whom, after all, was thisstuff produced?), that sort of thing. Thetalking head for this excursion was acritic, novelist, film writer named JohnBerger. It had guitar music and a lot ofstuff about the evils of capitalism andhow museums and art historians (like oldSir K.) worked in the interests of abeady eyed possessing class. Its pointwas that the working class, left out of thebusiness of culture, ought to get the bestof past art for its own use (you can keepthe transparently ideological dross, thankyou) and that capitalists ought to quitshoving those oppressive advertizingimages — images which continue anoppressive tradition of Western oilpainting — down the throats of thelaboring masses. And if the oppressedcouldn't think this stuff up bythemselves, Berger and co. wouldprovide the correct curatorial sensibility:to each class, its own curators!We didn't get Ways of Seeing on thePetroleum Broadcasting System — nosurprise — which was too bad. It wasreally no worse than Civilization, and atleast introduced the idea that the realmof culture was not exempt from debate,disputed points of view, questions ofpolitics and class. It also would havemade writing this review easier, as it made Berger into something of amediacelebrity in Britain. He occupies aposition there paradoxically close to theone Kenneth Clark occupies here:purveyer of a comfortable and pioussensitivity to a 'cultivated' mass public.The book version of Ways of Seeing hasbecome the staple of every art collegefundamentals course.What makes things interesting is thatBerger, in turn, received his reply. Thegenuinely leftist Art Language groupdevoted an entire issue of its journal(Art Language IV :3, 123 pages) todemolishing Ways of Seeing, to the pointthat not one word was left standing. It ispure pleasure to read — the kind ofbare knuckled combat on serioustheoretical/practical grounds thatAmericans must believe utterly foreign•to cultural questions. Art Language'spoint — a correct one — was that the sortof sentimental and smugly virtuouspseudo Marxism has nothing to do with aconcrete historical understanding of theproduction of pictures in a class society— and nothing to do with Marxism.Where Ways of Seeing isn't offeringlaughable misappropriations of Marx'stheory of commodity exchange ("To havea thing painted and put on canvas is notunlike buying it and putting it in yourhouse." Or, on the other hand, it's notmuch like it at all. "If you buy a paintingyou also buy the look of the thing itrepresents." Try to imagine a market in"looks.") it turns on inarguale andtherefore meaningless incantations about"sensitive' experience — the experiencethe art establishment is always nastilypreventing you from having ("Seeingcomes before words ... To touchsomething is to situate yourself inrelation to it. Close you eyes, move roundthe room and notice how the faculty oftouch is like a static limited form ofsight." static? what?) Apart from theirveering between the banal and thesenseless, what is infuriating about suchstatements is that in Berger's attempt atan aphoristic style, they're all you get.There is no argument, substantialion,development of ideas. Instead, Bergeroffers ritualized formulae which,apparently, are supposed to zing intoyour brain and enlighten on the spot.Well, enough on Ways of Seeing.• Berger still has admirers in Britain, butthe Art Language demolition did itswork. Whatever credibility he had inserious discussion there (He must be allright. He's a leftist, isn't he?) is nowsurely gone. So reeling and battered, hearrives on our shores, courtesy ofPantheon/Random House. His earlier John Bergerwork has been out of print here for sometime, and Ways of Seeing, puzzling informat as a book and lacking thetelevision tie-in, hasn't had muchattention. But some recent developmentshave no doubt encouraged his publishers.His latest book, About Looking, containsa rambling "appreciation" of SusanSontag's On Photography, a book whichtrades in the same sort of domesticatedcontinental theory in the service ofcultural managerialism (poor WalterBenjamin, but maybe he brought it onhimself). AH concerned will be countingon a demand for more of the same. AboutLooking is a collection of Berger'smagazine essays from the past decade.And sad to say, the writing has becomemore guru like, ritualized, andincantatory even than Ways of Seeing. Hehas been living of late in a village inFrance writing a novel about peasantlife. We find him now capable of insightslike this one: speaking of Millet's peasantpaintings, he says,"Millet inherited a language oflandscape painting which had beendeveloped to speak about the traveler'sview of the landscape. The problem isepitomized by the horizon. Thetraveler/spectator looks toward thehorizon: for the working peasant bentover his land, the horizon is eitherinvisible or is the totally surroundingedge of the sky from which the weathercomes. The language of Europeanlandscape could not give expression tosuch an experience."What a complex view of humanexperience, traveler's with eyes glued onthe horizon; peasants either with theirnoses in the mud or scanning apprehensively in full circles. And otcourse, the "language of Europeanlandscape painting" is utterly monolithicin its adherence to "travelers"experience. But what was that businessin Ways of Seeing about landscape andthe landed gentry? Oh never mind. Thereis no place even to start interrogatingprose like this, it is insulated by itscompletely abstract and ahistoricalcharacter. About Looking provides littleelse.There is some irony in the receptionBerger has already received. PeterPrescott gave it a worried review in arecent Newsweek, providing his readerswith a sort of Surgeon General's warningof possibly dangerous Marxist content.Prescott needn't have been too nervous;he doesn't realize how harmless AboutLooking actually is. Berger, however,may find himself too tame at home andtoo exotic over here.In several ways, this is all a shame. Wecould use some genuinely critical andhistorical discourse in the area of highculture. The factitious substitutesprovided by the likes of Berger andSontag can only get in the way of that.Also, Berger himself has been muchbetter in the past. His out-of-print essay“The Moment of Cubism" is still a basicand really unsurpassed introduction tothe reading of cubist pictures. Pantheonhas also re issued the book whichfollowed from the "Moment of Cubism,"The Success and Failure of Picasso,aimed to loft Berger on the risingthermals surrounding the extrvagentPicasso retrospective atthe Museum ofModern Art. It has faults consistent withthe tendencies I've noted above(maddening historical loosenes; asentimental concentration on Picasso'spersonality and some vague v'responsibility' he's skirted;unconfirmable assertions about Spanishduende and the like) but it is the onlything approaching an account ofPicasso's place within anhistorically developed avant-gardeposition, the mobility of his visualvocabulary, the effect of the cultsurrounding him on his own production —its exhaustion in self quotation andself referentiality. The book lives up toits title. Berger, it would seem, is betterover the long haul than in the essay formhe has normally confined himselfto, better at something approachingstraightforward art history. He clearlywants to be a great deal more than an"art historian" a pejorative term forhim — but has ended up being a gooddeal less.Kael: In and Out of the Darkby Richard KayeRight now, according to nlm critic Pauline Kael, American movies are .totteringon the brink of terminal blandness. In aninterview with In These Times last month,Kael claimed she was unsure whether ornot she would return to her stint at the NewYorker, because, according to her, moviesare so awful, and nearly everyone acknowledges how awful they are, that sheno longer takes any pleasure in criticizing ;motion pictures. Coming from a veteranfilm critic with twenty-five years of reviewing movies to her credit, that remarkshould come to us as a warning of someweight. Fortunately, she has since opted toreturn to her magazine on a free floatingbasis (no editor tells this woman when toturn in copy). Now we have Kael's seventhbook, When The Lights Co Down (Holt Rin¬ehart), a collection of movie reviews fromthe last five years. It's a collection which isas likely to infuriate her old foes as it is li jkely to rally her old followers. Both groupsare legion.The very same strengths and weak¬nesses of Kael's previous writing are ev¬erywhere in evidence here. Kael's encyclo pediac knowledge, her lacerating wit, hertalent for exposing the merely arty or pretentious, her sheer passion for movies, theremarkable way she can get all worked upwhen a director cheats us of a movie'spromise — these are familiar traits ofKael’s which, whatever her excesses,make her the best American critic on popular culture. It is popular culture which isreally Kael's subject. She is for refusing toadmire the "art film", the word "film",the "high art" of certain European directors such as Resnais, or sometimes evenrefusing to like art at all. There is thatscandalous essay in her third book GoingSteady, entitled "Trash, Art, and the Movies", where Kael suggested that art, afterall, may be just a little boring, stuffy, andall too reminiscent of the genteel cultureschool teachers tried to stuff down ourthroats. Kael's love for the disreputednessof popular American movies is turned intoa brilliant argument in "Fear of Movies",where, minus the silliness of her "Trash"essay, she attacks timid viewers who preferred fluffy, safe French movies such as"Cousin, Cousine" or the embalmed "Interiors" to more powerful, gritty American movies such as "Taxi Driver". Presum¬ably, heavy violence kept a good number ■of intelligent viewers hidden away in their !safe French films (or perhaps at home ;reading equally innocuous articles in the jpages of Kael's home base, the New !Yorker). So far so good. But then Kaeltries to convince us that the low down funof "National Lampoon's Animal House" isworth sitting through because, "it makes Iyou laugh by restoring you to the slobby infant in yourself." Here's where Kael's traditional critics can have their field day.Faced with the choice of attending "Heav ;en Can Wait" or "Animal House", she tells jus, "I'd rather stand with the slobs." Of jcourse,the choice is just a trap.But the astonishing aspect of When the >Lights Go Down is that, under the pressureof a weekly column, Kael's reviews can be !so rich, so resonant in meaning, so well jconceived. A review of "1900" zeros in on jexactly what it is that's tripping Bertolucci("Guilt"), her piece on "Network" tori I Iliantly slams Paddy Chayefsky, the movie I"Equus" receives the same devastating |analysis that the play de.served but never jgot ("In Equus, psychosis is passion and ! Dominique Sanda and Robert De Niro in"1900"creativity, and the cure, is cold confor¬mity") There are first-rated appreciations of "The Warriors", "DistantThunder", "Jonah Who Will Be Twenty-Five...", as well as some predictable Kaelover estimations (Now hear this: "TheStory of Adele H." is a "great film").Yet what finally emerges from When theLights Go Down is a critic who manages tokeep her critical passion in a time when adry cultural climate dictates other¬wise. There's enough gum cracking goodhumor and perception here for PaulineKael to go down as the rightful, more responsible, less boozy heiress to DorothyParker.The Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980 — 5HAMPTON HOUSE-LAKEFRONT GRACE 53R0.Enjoy spectacular living in this 1,715 sq/ft prestigious 3 bed¬room residence Light, high ceilings, spacious rooms, rich withperiod detailing and new kitchen, baths. 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NEW LISTING-MODERNIZED TOWNHOUSEThis vintage rowhouse has been totally & strikingly redone withexposed brick, fireplaces, gourmet, restaurant equipped kitchen,3 bedrooms plus 3rd floor family room with sundeck. Very ex¬citing home! NEW LISTING-THE KEEP ON KENWOOD & 57THEnjoy beautiful spacious 2 bedroom with sanded floors, refin¬ished woodwork, and renovated systems in a handsome, courton campus! This bargain won't last long, so hurry!EAST HYDE PARK GRACE-12V4%, 29 years.Enjoy 19th floor views in this immaculately maintained 2 bed¬room + den home with oiled floors, carpeting, carpenter built-ins, formal dining room. Low costs, parking. Just $85,000!KENWOOD’S FINEST-KIMBARK & 49THLovely 6 bedroom brick home features huge family room, den,modem systems. 32’ living room with fireplace. Terrace, eat-inkitchen overlooks garden, 3rd floor suite.^Urban Search 337-2400 D3s/Sennett:AnRICHARD SENNETT, AUTHORITY(New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1980) 206pp.by Roger MichenerRichard Sennett's new work Authorityis the first of four studies about man inmodern society. The others to follow wlldeal with solitude, fraternity, and ritual.This tetralogy could be an interestingenterprise; and if Knopf's publicity blurbis correct that the works to follow are"closely related" to this one, it might bedifficult and possibly inappropriate toassess the merits and scope of this book,unaccompanied by its fellows.Assuredly, the publicity blurb iscorrect. This book is so looselyconstructed, so scattered and unformedin its argument, and so unrevealing of itssubject, in short, so weitmaschig, that itcould be "closely related" — by virtue ofits equidistance — to almost anythingthat sought to discuss modern culture. Itis a great disorganized pile of loose butwise sounding phrases that strain or'ythe limits of a reader's patience. Even ifone discounts the author's pretensions, itis a superficial work that almostimmediately exhausts its intellectualsubstance.The author, to be sure, is imaginativeand widely read. He is wide-ranging inhis use of materials. He has a penchantfor the "grand idea." He draws on thewritings of Vico, Dostoevsky, Gide,Gosse, Kafka, Piaget, Aristotle, Gramsci,Bakunin, Salvemini, Burke, Dumont, andHeraclitus to give a baker's dozen atrandom. His treatment of these andmany other thinkers, however, isdisturbingly loose; his use of theirthought too little qualified. Max Weber is"no simple social determinist." Freud is"a great and tragic voice." AdamSmith's "invisible hand is an abstraction;it is attached to the body of no singlehuman being." The work is stuffed withcliches. E.g. : "No social order, of course,goes out like a light," or "motivationfluctuates over time." In beingwide ranging, it is easy to find oneself farafield.Despite his graduation from thisCollege, Richard Sennett has avoided thecentral admonition of the Common Core.He does not define his terms. It is veryhard to discover in this sponge of wordswith any degree of precision and thus ofunderstanding what he means by"authority." This is not totally surprisingin light of the book's ultimate praise foranarchism and antinomianism. Sennettbelieves that the central problem ofmodern life "is a problem with thedomain of being free, and it is a realproblem. The dominant forms ofauthority in our lives are destructive;they lack nurturance, nurturance — thelove that sustains others — is a basichuman need, as basic as eating or sex.Compassion, trust, reassurance arequalities it would be absurd to associatewith these figures of authority in theadult world. And yet we are free; free toaccuse our masters that these qualitiesare missing." In this book, he explores"what this modern fear of authority is,who are the authorities inspiring it, andwhat better images of authority ought tobe in the mind's eye."The first half of the book is a discussionof the "bonds of illegitimate authority";the second half an exploration of "howmore legitimate bonds might come intobeing." The first part considers the bondsof rejection, that is, how a person feelstied to the person he or she is rejecting.This process is illustrated in vividexamples and by interviews in which heshows a type of authority that proffers afalse love, which he calls "paternalism"(and exemplified in the figure of GeorgePullman) and another type that proffersno love at all, a kind of bond which hecalls, paradoxically, "autonomous.""Both these images of authority aremalignant," Sennett writes. "Both arebased on illegitimate forms of socialcontrol, and both trap those who negatethem."The second half of the book looks at Unauthoritative Authorityways people change or incorporate the"malignant forms of authority whichhave caused them to suffer" into formsthat either are more readilyaccommodated by the person, or, byreason of a "crisis of authority,"renounced. This is followed by anexposition where, by analogy, the"lessons" drawn from the intimateexperience of personal authority areextended into the public realm. Theconsequences of this extension are thenexplored. Sennett concludes with adiscussion of the "attitudes of negation"and the "fear of being deceived byauihority," that is, he concludes with adiscussion about ethics and authority.An example of the understanding ofauthority might be seen in the practice ofthe voting assemblies of republicanRome. In the comitia, "speeches" wereentirely excluded, nor had theseassemblies the right of initiative oramendment. They had merely to vote onmeasures put forward by the presidingmagistrate. In the electing assembliesthe magistrate in charge of the electionhad also a completely free hand insetting up the list of candidates; no onehad a right to be included. During thetaking of the votes the presidingmagistrate could break off theproceedings on his own discretion at anytime, particularly when he believed thatthey might lead to an undesired result.But even after the votes had been takenthe magistrate might accept the result ornot, being free to make the renuntatio orto refuse it. The comitial resolution wasthus a bilateral act, in effect anagreement between citizens andmagistrate. This was the "gloriousancestral discipline and custom" wichCicero, in a famous passage of his speechpro Flacco, contrasts with the popularvotes of the Greek democracies. On theone hand, the Greek popular assembly,seated in the theatre in enjoyment of itssovereign power and rejoicing in thebattle of wits, taking its unconsidereddecisions under the influence of emotion;on the other hand, the Roman popularassembly, standing silent and proceedingto vote, no discussion having taken place,under the guidance — by no means onlyformal — of the magistrate. Thediscipline of the Roman popularassembly, which acknowledged theauthority of the magistrate it had itselfelected, also preserved the Roman citizenfrom a tyrannical majority rule such asobtained in the Greek democracies;nowhere may it be seen so clearly ashere that Roman discipline is the key toRoman freedom.Such is the original and yet simplesystem of the Romans, combiningfreedom with bondage. The Romansystem presupposes human beings who,notwithstanding the light shed on theirlives by rational thought, are firmlydetermined to recognize authoritywithout thereby enslaving their souls; wostrive, even with sacrifice, to attinauthority without, when they haveacquired it, thereby becoming tyrants.Sennett focuses mainly in the"negative" images of authority, wichdemonstrates his most imperfectunderstanding of authority. He is moreinterested in rejecting authority than inseeing its purposes and its necessity.Authority is not sweet; it is not in itselfconducive of human happiness. It ispossible to have bondage withoutfreedom, but it is not possible to havefreedom witout some bondage, someadherence to some form of authority.While it is clear that Sennett does notbelieve this last proposition, it is notclear that he understands the costs ofrejecting it. Since he is unwilling toacknowledge any authority as infallible,he is unwilling to acknowledge authority,in his undermining and rejecting ofpresent forms of authority, which are, tobe sure, imperfect and in many waysunsatisfactory, he takes unduecognizance of the erosion of freedom thatfollows from the criticism of authority. The pivot for Sennett's argument is hisreading of the famous chapter "Lordsipand Bondage" in Hegel's Phenomenologyof the Spirit in wich Hegel discusses anddefines the word "recognition." Sennett'sreading of this chapter is, to myunderstanding, fundamentally wrong.The most interesting points inAuthority revolve around a discussion ofHegel's view of lordship and bondage,and the four fold journey the bondsmanmust take to set himself free: stoicism,scepticism, the unhappy consciousness,and rational consciousness. The youngHegel thought that the burden ofestablishing conditions of liberty insociety lay with the oppressed-. The Hegelof the Phenomenology elaborated thisnotion by defining the birth of liberty —in the bondsman's consciousness of hiswork. From this view flows the furtherthought that authority is renewed byperiodic crises. Thus, consciousness oflordship and bondage is all: crisischanges the nature of a person'sconsciousness. As the consciousness ischanged, by virtue of the progress of thedialectic, the ethics of recognition —sympathy, sensitivity, modesty — cometo control the interpretation of power. Itis the free recognition of one'sconsciousness that is freedom.To summarize Hegel in this way maybe somewhat impetinent, but it seemsnecessary in light of Sennett's work to doso. The second half of Authority is builton an interpretation of this chapter of thePhenomenology, and Sennett uses Hegelas the authority from which he thenforms his own antinomianism. Thisprocedure is an example of theintellectual approach that RichardKroner often described: the way to flyhigher than the eagle is to ride on theshoulders of the eagle.While the process of the dialecticinvolves both the subjective and theobjective, Sennett focuses entirely on thesubjective. His ethical criticisms ofmodern life — and Authority is an ethicalargument — stem solely from the"sufferings" of the subjective. This viewis entirely consonant with the strain ofRiesmanian sociology for which Sennettis noted, it is also somewhat unfair toHegel (who will, I am sure, give scantnotice to the slight); worse, it is naiveabout what constitutes and sustains asocial order.It was Hegel's achievement to treatethics from an objective rather than asubjective standpoint. Precisely thesubjectivism of Kant's moral philosophyhad sown that the principle of ethicsmust be sought at a level above theindividual. Moral consciousness andmoral legislation can never be derivedfrom the individual "I". Moralconsciousness is rooted instead in theindividual realization that one issubordinate to a general reason orauthority. Hegel united the two aspects of social order: one, moral, and the otner,the "authoritative principle" that waspreviously defined, which Kant'ssomewhat one sided insistence upon theautonomy of the individual had set intoopposition. Kant ascribed no inherentmoral value to public institutions; this isthe greatest difference between histeaching about authority and that ofHegel. Hegel expressly differentiatedpublic morality (Sittlichkeit)frommorality (Moralitat). In the Philosophyof Right, Hegel says:"As important as it is to emphasize thepure unconditional self determination asthe root of duty . . . adherence to a purelymoral (subjective) standpoint which isnot transformed into a conception ofethics reduces this gain to an emptyformalism; it reduces the science ofmorals to mere talk of duty for its ownsake. And from this last standpoint, noimmanent doctrine of duty is possible. . .But from that definition cf duty seen asthe lack of contradiction, as the formalagreement with itself — this is nothingbut confirmation of an abstractindefiniteness — specific duties cannotproceed. When a specific content forbehavior is examined, the foregoingprinciple does not provide a criterion ofwhether it is or is not a duty. On thecontrary, all wrong and immoralbehavior can be justified in thismanner."Sennett, then, has used Hegel opposedto Hegel's teaching as a basis forcriticizing the present social order. Hehas reduced the subjective into an oddsort of empty objective formalism hehas taken one too many perns in thedialectical gyre and gotten himself into asubjectivist, self entrappingepistemology. Sennett has given us anexample, one of many contemporaryones, of how one can be long on dialecticand go a little way.It is not a matter of indifference inpublic discourse who propounds aparticular doctrine: the authority of theperson advocating a doctrine in thecourse of a discussion is one argumentfor its truth.Sennett writes in his concludingparagraph that "belief in visible, legibleauthority is not a practical reflection ofthe public world; it is an imaginativedemand placed on that world .... To askthat power be nurturing and unrestrainedis unreal. . . . Authority is itselfinherently an act of imagination. It is nota thing; it is a search for solidity andsecurity in the strength of others whichwill seem to be like a thing. To believethe search can be consummated is trulyan illusion, and a dangerous one. Onlytryants can fill the bill." This kind ofthought only exemplifies the problemthat he is criticizing. Is the status ofauthoritative non belief in authority anyless authoritative than the oppositebelief? Is Mr. Sennett any less anintellectual tyrant "filling the bill" thanthose he criticizes and denounces?The digression on Roman votingassemblies sought to show theimpossibility of realizing orunderstanding the "positive" side ofauthority without submitting to it. Sinceauthority always exists in a socialsystem, not to submit to it for positivebenefit means only to be subjected to itfor tyrannical and negative effect.Sennett has chosen not to understandthis.Authority is an important subject;Authority is not a significant contributionto the undderstanding of it. What mightbe the source of greater understanding?Well, instead of spending ten dollars onthis book, one could purchase a ticket toa performance of King Lear to hear theforce and power of these words, whichalone convey more than all those inSennett.Kent You have that in yourcountenance which I would fain callmaster.Lear: What's that?Kent Authority.(Shakespeare, King Lear l.iv.)\\ t . The Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980 — 7New Light on An Old RelationshipSTRAIGHT WOMEN/GAY MEN:A SPECIAL RELATIONSHIPby John MaloneThe Dial Pressby David Blix"You have to understand that a lot ofwomen have been put through such hellby straight men that any difficulties theyencounter in a relationship with a gayman pale by comparison."So says Aline, one of the womeninterviewed in John Malone's StraightWomen/Gay Men. For many readers herobservation may strike an odd chord, butit is one which echoes throughout thispleasant book, and which introduces anumber of difficult themes concerningsex, relationships, and personal identity.The idea that straight women and gaymight even have good relationships willdisturb some. Popular heterosexualapologists will claim it is intuitivelyobvious that men and women cannotrelate except sexually. If gay men don'trelate to women sexually, well then, gaymen don't relate to women at all. LesserAmerican psychoanalysts will claim thathomosexual men — indeed all men — areat birth and at bottom heterosexual, butthat homosexual men have their fledglinglibido choked in the nest by analternately seductive and punitivemother. Homosexual men, they declare,are really heterosexual men who view allsubsequent women with unreasoningfear. Various religious sorts will claimthat true "co-humanity" (or some suchallied state of bliss) can flourish only | between males and females who share| potential or actual genital union.| According to Malone's book, however,| none of these claims bears up. Straightwomen and gay men, whatever the placeof their genitals, have humanrelationships of great variety,complexity, and power.The book is based on interviews withmore than 150 women and men. The ninechapters run the gamut: generalperspectives from both the women andthe men, the meaning of physicalsexuality, the role of experimentation,the possibility of marriage, and the! ambiguities of bisexuality. The format: switches back and forth between casualcase studies and Malone's runningcommentary.To most gay men, I suspect, the topicis no surprise. As Malone observes on thefirst page, friendships between straightwomen and gay men are likely to go backto childhood or early adolescence.Indeed, it has often struck me that one ofthe first ways a boy knows he's gay is notthat he is turned on by other boys (itbeing so obvious he takes it for granted),but that he gets along with girls, andlater women, more easily and openlythan his straight peers do. Both thewomen and the men in Malone's booktalk about this ease and openness. Forthe women, it ranges from the grand tothe nitty-gritty. The women here seem tobear out the old clich'e that gay men aremore sensitive than their straightbrothers; they can share interests in thearts, clothes, shopping, and food. Some of John Malonethe women find — that this sensitivitycarries over into bed, and that gay menare fabulous lovers. Others delight inbeing able to chat over their sex livesmore frankly with gay men than withstraight men, since straight men oftenassume that a woman who talks aboutsex wants sex. And since almost all thesewomen are touched in some degree byfeminism, they almost all understand andapplaud the efforts of contemporary gaymen to achieve a sense of self-worthagainst the (still) devastating socialOvercoming PsychiatristsBy Peter BurkholderIt will be as difficult for lesbians andgay men to read Dr. RobertKronemeyer's OvercomingHomosexuality as it must be for a blackto read Arthur Jensen's work on raciallydetermined intelligence. In each case, thescholar, claiming objectivity, tries toprove what cannot be proven (that blacksare less intelligent than whites, and thathomosexuals are tense, hostile, fearful,and unhappy) and finally leaves hisreader frustrated and searching for aresponse.Kronemeyer views homosexuality as"symptomatic of a psychicdisorientation"...4)generally caused by a frustrating £and non-nurturing mother-infant £relationship. . . The homosexual(male or female) is stuck in the £oral stage of development. His (sic, ^et sic semper Kronemeyer) needswere never satisfied and he wasunable to go on to more mature, ^genital development. Because his -cfear and his hostility — both mostly 2unconscious — are so great, he has 2no alternative but to use members cof his or her own sex as a mother usubstitute . . . the deep fear, pain, oand intense and unneutralized £aggression of infancy remains on £an unconscious level and drives osuch individuals in a frantic and 8futile escape from the clutches ofall members of the opposite sex.Fans of the literature of homosexualitywill recognize the views of Irving Bieber,Charles Socarides, Edmund Bergler, andFrank Caprio. Indeed, nothing inKronemeyer's view of homosexuality orits causes is in any way new. Opponentsof this view — and there are many — areignored or dismissed out of hand,including C. A. Tripp ("sophistry") andAllan Bell Martin Weinberg's 1978 KinseyInstitute study ("illustrates the loss ofobjectivity that can grow out of thepoliticization of a socioscientific issue").What is new is the cloak of "New Age"psychology in which Kronemeyer wraps himself. This book, it turns out, is notabout homosexuality at all, but aboutSyntonic Therapy (syntony is "aharmonious assemblage of parts into awhole; the body, mind, emotions, andspirit of the patient become reunified in aphysically relaxed, reasonable,emotionally secure, and spiritually aliveSelf"). This is the author's method ofworking out preverbal psychologicaldisturbances through essentiallynon-verbal exercises designed to re-evoke"negative emotions" and give them"meaningful release". His approach isholistic, combining nutrition (wholefoods, supplements), breathing (neurotics"anxiously hold their breath"), sleep,CUrutopker Strertexercise (Kronemeyer runs the NewHorizon Health and Tennis Center onLong Island), relaxation, and meditationwith psychological work under atherapist. This is all very commendableand quite common. The catch is thatwhen Kronemeyer guides the therapy,four fifths of the homosexual patients"spontaneously" change toheterosexuality.I will consider Kronemeyer's methodbelow. First, let us examine his attitudestowards homosexuality and sexuality ingeneral.Kronemeyer sees homosexuality as anexpression of fear of the opposite sexcombined with a compulsive orality, arelic of deprivation of mother love as an infant. He can prove neither thischaracterization of homosexuality nor histheory of causation, so he is content toassert them repeatedly, throwing inselectively interpreted evidenceconforming to his prejudgements. Theseassertions do not convince, asKronemeyer's theories leave muchunexplained. How does deprivation oforal pleasure as an infant prompt hatredof the opposite sex? How does a peniscome to be a mother substitute (for menonly)? How come gay and lesbian youthtypically identify strong emotionalfeelings for members of their own sexbefore becoming aware of sexualimpulses?Any attempt to define homosexuality innegative terms will ultimately fail. As agay male, I know my gayness is not anexpression of fear of a flight from women(why are so many of my close friendswomen? Why am I better able to givethem support and nurturing than manymen?); it is a capacity for unlimited lovewith people of my own sex.Kronemeyer's "healthy sexuality" isgenital (involving "the mature andbeautifully paired organs"), centered in"healthy orgasm". This is a constrained,masculine approach, inhibited by themale's concentration on genitalia andachieving the peak at the expense ofenjoying the view on the way. There is nohint of the wonder of licking a nipple, ofrunning fingers down the side of a leg, orof gently tonguing an anus, nor the joy offeeling such tenderness. Fellatio andcunnilingus, deemed neurotic substitutesfor the mother's breast in a homosexualcontext, are permissible amongheterosexuals as preliminaries, though"no substitute for genital intercourse",as they grant only "localized andsuperficial release", not "total orgasm".This is hogwash, like the entireoral anal genital theory and the overlayof "deprivation" Kronemeyer applies.Human sexuality is not localized in thegenitals, it is omnipresent. I get sexualpleasure from a tree, touching its roughskin, feeling its cool leaves, eating itsfruit; sexual angels fly between peopleContinued on p. 23 odds.For the men the ease of thesefriendships has other dimensions. HereMalone pickes up, examines, and thendiscards Dennis Altman's idea that gaymen garner straight friends in order tobe reassured that there is nothing queerabout being gay. On the contrary, saysMalone, gay men are likely to formfriendships with women only once theyhave already gained self assurance.Those gay men are womanless who arealso filled with self loathing.Nor, observes Malone, are all thesefriendships chaste. Gay men and straightwomen in America today share beds andbodies with surprising frequency andmixed results. Sure disaster awaits thewoman who fancies she will "cure" a gayman, and Malone's interviews with thetwo women named Anne and Abigail areamong the more moving parts of thebook. No cheerier are the prospects forgay men who seek out such "cures" ontheir own initiative. They may be franklycurious, or they may simply be slow.They may go for the casual tryst, or theymay seek marriage. Their marriage mayor may not work. But the man willalmost always hunt up gay sexelsewhere, and soon find himself on theshort road to a compartmentalized, if notschizoid, existence. The wife, if shelearns the truth, will be spared no littleagony. (I have myself known some ofthese wives, and Malone's account ringstrue.) Other gay men, of course, makereal and passionate love to women. But,as Malone notes, they do so almostalways to a particular woman, to whomthey are drawn less by genericsexualattraction than by an idosyncatic web ofpersonal associations.As if all this were not yet replete withdifficulty, there remains bisexuality,which is the topic of the last chapter.Most people I know — be they gay orstraight — will raise one and maybetwo-eyebrows over this word. Surely theman or woman who pleads bisexuality isdeceived. They must be using thisnow-chic term either to license foraysinto forbidden territory (if they arestraight), or to plaster over gay skeletonsrattling in the closet. Here I foundMalone extremely helpful. Taking a cuefrom Masters and Johnson, he admits theexistence of ambixexuals. Ambisexualsare defined as persons who areindifferent to the gender of theirpartners, and so able to have sex withpartners of both genders. Ambisexualityis sex for its own sake. By contrast, thetrue bisexual is supposed to be equallyattracted to both sexes, not equallyindifferent. And for this reason, Maloneregisters doubts about their numbers, ifnot their very existence. In most of us, heavers, our attractions proceed from arelatively fixed and stable center, whichalmost always slides to one end or theother of the Kinsey scale. At best, peoplemay have bisexual tendencies — but,again, a relation to a fixed center.The book as a whole, is a good one,clearly and engagingly written. It excelson the anecdotal and common senselevels. It stumbles on the theoretical.Rightly, I think, Malone repudiates mostof what psychoanalysis has said on thissubject, but he has nothing better to putin its place. His own appeal to C.A.Tripp, whose Homosexual Matrixappeared in 1975, leaves me cold. Tripp'sbook remains a useful grabbag of brightideas, but it has none of the rigor Malonefinds in it, and even less of the research.But perhaps we should not judge tooharshly. The theoretical questions whichlie at the center of the book are hard. Aresex and affection tne same? If so, how?The early psychoanalytic movement, letus recall, began to crack apart hereprecisely when Freud and Jung disputedthe extent of the sexual nature of thelibido. On the level of everyday lives, themen and women in this book seem toattest (toxjse the jargon) that not alllibido is sexual, and the eros andphiliaare fundamentally distinct. Whether wecan construct an adequate,multi disciplinary theory to show justhow this can be remains to be seen.Malone's book makes an intelligentoffering to the collection of our data, butthat doesn't build the edifice.8 — The Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980An Interview with Edmund Whiteby Richard KayeThere was a time after the publication ofEdmund White's first novel, ForgettingElena (Random House, 1973), when therewas really only one way to draw peopleinto reading that exotic, maddeningly elliptical work. One might have quoted theTimes reviewer, who called White's book"a masterful piece of work ... an astonishmg first novel", but more likely one wouldhave referred to Vladmir Nabokov, whonamed White as the American writer hemost admired. The remark, predictably,took many people by surprise: EdmundWhite? Edmund Wilson, you mean? Howcould Nabokov have made such an exuberant judgement based on one short novel?Times have changed, and EdmundWhite's second novel, Nocturnes for theKing of Naples (Penguin), a dreamy, poetic paean to lost romantic love, came out in1978 to a series of effusive reviews rare fora novel which boasted of delving into theworld of "religious mysticism, cafe society, homoerotic love and surrealism", allin a rich, highly lyrical style which somecalled sugary and others termed "highart"."It's a wholly unexpected incarnation ofa genre we had all imagined obsolete,"wrote novelist Mary Gordon. "EdmundWhite has reinvented Devotional Literature.""A baroque invention of quite startingbrilliance and intensity," wrote the usually cavalier Gore Vidal. "A paean to thatleast celebrated of heroes, the second person." Critic Doris Grumbach describedthe novel as containing "some of the finestwriting to be found in recent American fiction." But the poet Richard Howard probably came closest to characterizing thenovel: "White has reinvented the classicalunities — place is sensual here, time is rememberd only, and action is ecstatic — tocreate a dazzling, lacerating novel whichmakes only one exaction of the reader:that he recognize his own capacity for receiving delight."Known not only as a novelist, White hasemerged, at the age of forty, as a literaryand political — spokesman for theAmerican gay community, for whom hehas become a kind of cultural and politicalguru. His most recent book, States of Desire: Travels in Gay America (Dutton) is,whatever its faults, a genuine classic. It isone of the very first books to move beyonda sociological examination of Americanhomosexuals in favor of a personal, travelogue style view of gay life around thecountry, from the Midwest to California,from obscure, small towns to gay metropoUses such as San Francisco. Intelligentlywritten, deliberately provocative, andsometimes extremely witty, White's account has received the type of mixed criti¬cal reviews that an exploatory and groundbreaking book of this sort must inevitablyexpect to receive. "The book," wroteChristopher Isherwood, "is both fascinating and deeply distrubing.""Edmund White has an anthropologist'ssense of community and a novelist's senseof character," Richard Sennett has said,"White has written a 'travel book' as suchbooks were written in the eighteenth century: a sympathetic account of human differences."A visiting professor of creative writingat Yale Univeristy and Johns Hopkins,White also writes regularly for the NewYork Times Book Review, the WashingtonPost Book World section, and ChristopherStreet Magazine. In Chicago this week forthe American Booksellers Conference,White will be on the University of Chicagocampus tonight (Friday, June 6) to give areading of his new fiction at 8 p.m. in theIda Noyes Library, 1212 East 59th Street. Areception will follow the reading, which isopen to the public.White agreed to be interviewed by theChicago Literary Review about issues relating to gay writing and gay politics. Theinterview was conducted by phone and bymail by Richard Kaye, co editor of the Literary Review. Kaye: Why don't I start by asking youhow you think of yourself in terms of yourown writing. Are you partial to fiction¬writing, or are you more interested in pursuing something along the lines of States ofDesire?White: The odd thing is that I can see f iction and nonfiction coming together in gaywriting. George Whitmore's new book, TheConfessions of Danny Slocum (St. Martin'sPress), for instance, is more than half autobiography though it's called a novel. The"novel" I'm working on now (and whichI'll be reading from in Chicago) is a memoir of my adolescence in Ohio, Chicago andMichigan; since I've already changed somany facts for artistic reasons (to make abetter story) I'll have to call it a novel.Dancer From the Dance by Andrew Hoileran is a fairly faithful portrait of certain jNew York characters, people one has jknown over the years. The hero of Faggots jseems to me almost indistinguishable 1from Larry Kramer.This fusion of fiction and autobiography,of course, is happening in all aspects ofAmerican writing — Elizabeth Hardwick's jSleepless Nights, the fiction of many otherwomen such as Ann Beattie. One might :say that the new voices in American fiction j— blacks, gays, chicanos, prisoners —tend to be autobiographical because of the :urgency to drag into literature realms ofexperience previously ignored.•In my own case, I felt very similar ener jgies going into States of Desire as wentinto Nocturnes For the King of Naples: thesame desire to render things as vividly andclearly as possible, to make my sentenceby sentence writing worthy of a reader's !close attention. But there are differences.In nonfiction, happily, one is less con jj cerned with construction. Whereas a novel jmust have a coherent and pleasing shape, !a work of nonfiction, I think, may be more jloosely organized. And in nonfiction one ican record shocking, scarcely credible jthings with some authority, whereas in tie |tion one must remember le vrai n'est pas *le vraisemble. uU0>Kaye: Are you comfortable with the ■§_term "gay writing" or with being de- o: scribed as a "gay writer" or a "gay nove-list"? On the one hand it makes sense to j=my mind — few people would question the uterm "black novelist" or "black writing"1 — and yet can't it also be limiting? Might jyou not one day go back to writing a novel jsuch as your first, Forgetting Elena, which jisn't really a "gay" book?White: As a socialist I feel one writes outof one's particular social condition. Bycontrast, the "humanist" bourgeois critic !is the one who speaks of "universal" and"eternal" literature. One of the familiar Istratagems of the bourgeoisie is to coverup the arbitrariness and precariousness ;(as well as the recent genesis) of its arrangement by universalizing and eternalizing the way we live now ("You maythink our system is terribly unfair, but jafter all it's rooted in human nature").Now a socialist is quite content to be parochial; I'm willing and eager to explore jmy identity as a forty year-old Midwes- itern man who is the son of well-to do entre jpreneur. The fact that my father's last ;j days were made miserable by the declineof entrepreneurial capitalism and the ;triumph of corporate capitalism is part of jmy story, just as it is part of Thomas Pyn-chon's story that he is descended from an iold New England family of land ownersthat was impoverished by New York and jBoston financiers (this is very clearly atheme of Gravity's Rainbow and contri jbutes, I think, to its "paranoid" vision of jinternational corporations).Part of my story is my gay identity,which has given me an odd perspective on >our society. I have had affairs with Hispanics, for instance, who have related tome as an exotic WASP "rich boy", an identity that aroused in them both desire andresentment — but beyond these ethnic andclass differences I was bound to these men Edmund Whiteby gay solidarity. Even as a teenager Icame into contact through homosexualitywith poor white "straight" hustlers (thesubject of one chapter in my new book) —and these relationships were quite complex. The hustler was superior to me because he was "straight"; I was superior tohim because I was from a higher socialstratum, I was buying him, which gave methe advantage, but he was superior to mewithin the sexual act itself. These are onlysome of the complexities, threads drawnout of tangled social and sexual skeinsEvery writer works on the hunch thatwhat is most personal to him or her willhave large public resonance. If the work iswell-crafted and the subject well renderedor at least well-imagined, then it mayreach many, many readers — if not now,then later. Of course no writer can saywhether his or her own work is "major" or"minor" in this sense; that's for others todecide. At this point Western literaturewritten by white middle class men iswhat's considered "universal" (in contrast to women's literature, African literature, regional literature, proletariat literature and so on, all of which is deemed to beof interest only to the few). But as societychanges, some of these minority literatures may come to seem of wide generalconcern. Many years ago, when Saul Bellow was interviewed by the Paris Review,he said then that when he began to writefiction with Jewish themes he was warnedby WASP's that he'd taken a disastrousturn towards the parochial; who couldhave guessed back then that some day he'dwin the Nobel Prize?Kaye: Then you probably believe in the idea of a "gay sensibility", don't you?That is, a sensibility that is special because it's gay.White: Since I believe writers are mold¬ed by their particular historical circumstances, I believe that gay writers havepassed through several different sensibili¬ties. Fin de siecle estheticism as practicedby Oscar Wilde, for instance, is very different from the camp sensibility of the1950's, which in turn differs from today'sgay sensibility, which I've dubbed "thepleasure machine." Its more representative manifestation is the disco — a bright,shiny, meticulously controlled and cali¬brated environment, a son et lumiere calculated to produce pure pleasure in thereader (which, I believe, is a paraphraseof Sontag's definition of the new novel assuch).Gay writers, of course, have only recently come out and formed a self-consciousgroup, so we would not expect the homosexual writers of the past to reveal strikingsimilarities one to another (one wouldhave to stretch to find resemblences between Proust and Forster, between Firbank and Maugham). What's interesting isthat those writers who are avowedly homosexual (such as Firbank and Genet) doseem to reveal certain similaritiesKaye: What sort of similarities?White: Namely a fascination with fantasy and ornament. Though I do not pre¬sume to link my name with these greatmen, nevertheless my own fiction has beencriticized, particularly in England, for exContinued on p. 11The Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980 — 9SHAPIRO PAINTINGS ARE OVERDUEPLEASE RETURN IMMEDIATELY25* PER DAY LATE CHARGE Student ActivitiesIda Noyes 2109:00 A.M. -4:30 P.M.REPAIRSPECIALISTSon IBM, SCMOlympia, etcFREE repairestimates; repairsby factory-trainedtechnician.RENTALSavailable withU of C. I D New anuRebuiltTypewriters,Calculators,Dictators,AddersU of ChicagoBookstore5750 S. 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And yet I think thatfantasy and ornament are the most gen¬uinely subversive aspects of gay writing.Realism written with understatement anocontrol in the conventional Anglo Saxonway subscribes to a conventional mannerof seeing the world. Of course "realism" isa fantasy itself, as we now know:Barthes'S/Zexposesthe way in which Balzac, that master "realist," merely mani¬pulated artificial cultural codes, and re¬cent work on Dickens has revealed theorigins of his novels not in scientific observation but in a recasting of fairy tales. Re¬alism, then, is a legacy of fantasy, the imi¬tation of the fantasies of the past; for thatreason realism is almost always conserva¬tive. A fantasist, by contrast, sets himselfor herself up as someone capable of re¬imagining the world — and this challengeto order is perceived by cultural conserva¬tives as "wrong," dangerous, anomalous.The anomaly is that an individual is exer¬cising his or her right to play in a state ofcomplete freedom, and this exercise becomes an invitation to readers to live livesof freedom. Similarly, ornament is theidiosyncratic flourish with which someonescrawls his or her signature on events. It'squirky, unsystematic, and cannot be easilyaccounted for. In the 17th and 18th centuries musical performers were expectedto add their personal ornamentation to thescore as printed; ornament was the unpredictable, one time only interpretation of acomposition, an expression of bravura, asuggestion that the score should not be regarded as a Platonic ideal toward whichexecutants must strive but rather as something more human and pliable — like hair,which can be dressed differently for eachoccasion.Kaye: But aside from this interest infantasy and ornamentation, do gay writershave any particular insights which can begeneralized about?White: It seems to me that gay writersare supremely aware of the arbitrarinessof society, which they (we) see in theatri¬cal terms. Sexual role-playing, statusgames, double lives, regional differences— these are variables we quickly masterand learn to see through. As a result, socialarrangements lose their solidity for us,their inevitability; we can imagine juggling them into new patterns. Simultaneously, play acting as a way of life teachesus to regard art as performance. Therefore, a gay novel is both fantasy and a performance; the imaginative density of thetext points to the element of fantasy andthe ornaments suggest performance. Toinsist at once on the frailty of social arrangements and the imperiousness of theimagination is genuinely subversive. Thatholds true even when the particular fantasy is retrograde — feudal and hierarchicin the case of Genet, aristocratic and Catholic in the case of Firbank. The content ofthe fantasy, I'm suggesting, is of less importance than the process.Kaye: What type of critic seems especially bothered by this use of fantasy andthis sense of performance in fiction? Arethey necessarily from a conservative political position? their case.Kaye: A number of people have commented on the influence of Nabokov onyour fiction. I sensed this too. It's thatlush, baroque, incredibly suggestive styleof yours. I found myself reacting as I dowith Nabokov — sometimes the intensityreaches a point where one has to put thebook down in order to take it all in. Do youacknowledge any particular influences?White: My first novel, which is calledForgetting Elena, was most indebted totwo quite dissimiliar influences — Kafkaand Sei Shonagon. From Kafka I picked upthe trick of elaborating reasonable-sound¬ing details into a mysterious pattern — or,to use a phrase Nabokov devised in describing my book, the knack of having"everything teeter on the brink of every¬thing." Sei Shonagon, the 11th centuryJapanese woman courtier who kept afamous diary, the Pillow Book, suggestedto me the horrors of a world in which ordi-• ary demarcations of status have been replaced by seemingly "democratic" butactually quite rigid distinctions of taste,esthetic convention, style. Oddly enough,! in the United States, which thinks of itselfas democratic though it is far from beingI so, ordinary class differences have beenobscured and replaced by far more snob! bish and subtle tyrannical differences ofJ "style." These are differences I hoped to| render in Forgetting Elena.Nabokov was the great influence on Nocturnes in many ways, most of them techni-, cal. He inspired me to write longer sen-I tences of hypotactic rather than simpleparatactic structure — sentences that likea ride in the fun house might carry thereader rapidly from one world through another into a third and would encapsulate,! en abyme, the various thematic preoccu¬pations of the book as a whole. His interestI in the bizarre, and especially in the bizarre; narrator, gave me courage to explore thej consciousness of my own narrator, which! is so unreliable, vagrant, alternately pre-! cise and cloudy, always romantic.The new fiction I'm writing now is; simpler, more sincere and straightfor- ward — partly, no doubt, because I’m deal-! ing with my own memories, but partly bej cause I could see no way to continue in theI direction of Nocturnes. And this new directness, along with an urgency to tell astory, to do quick character sketches, todiscuss some ideas and observations in somany words — these are all things I got ataste tor while writing States of Desire.Kaye: Getting back to Stales of Desirefor a minute, Chr istopher I Sherwoodpraised the book because he said it "usedthe predicament of the homosexual minor¬ity to demonstrate what is very wrong withthe social health of this country". Do youthink that's accurate? I thought you with¬held moral judgement on most of the peo¬ple in that book — a point you were at¬tacked for — and that you didn't considerthe condition of homosexuals in thiscountry to be particularly "unhealthy".White: I think Isherwood had in mind theoppression of gays and other minorities. Icertainly agree with him that intoleranceis something very much "wrong with thesocial health of this country."Some heterosexual critics did take me totask for not passing moral judgement onthe gay men I interviewed. I suspect thatmany heterosexuals would like to read aquick, potted summary of gay life andcome away with a few opinions. That Iraised more questions than I answered andthat some of those questions haye to dowith larger social issues — democracy, thefamily, religion, sex with minors, socialversus sexual sado masochism — surelythis range of doubts must have spoiled theday for many a reviewer, especially thoseworking in haste, eager to get a grip on thesubject and grind out a thousand words(since I've reviewed so much I sympathizewith the problem).Of course, like anyone more or less saneI do pass some moral judgements — I amagainst coercion, exploitation, cruelty,deep economic unfairness. As for sex, I donot see it as an area that invites moralevaluation (unless it spills over into coer¬cion, as in the case of rape).What amazes me is the way somestraight critics fancy that gay life is a phe¬nomenon they are free to approve or disapprove of according to their whims. Recent¬ly a critic in Los Angeles, in discussing mybook, struck out on a tangent of his ownand said that he could not approve of gaylife as long as it remained so flamboyant.This is not a new response: the women'smovement was accused of being "stri¬dent" and the gay movement of "flaunting" its eccentricities ("strident" and"flaunting" are the two instantaneouswords of disapprobation). But more imWhite: Curiously, critics of the heterosexual left are some of the most vociferousopponents of fantasy and ornament. I seethis opposition as indicative of the generalhardening of the mental arteries of a highly bureaucratized and increasingly author¬itarian movement, one I feel little sympathy with. It seems no coincidence that theformulation of the repressive Socialist Realist line in the Soviet Union in the late1920's and early 1930’s occurred at thesame time as the abandonment of the lastvestiges of genuine socialism and the devising of wicked authoritarianism. Thesort of socialism I believe in — heterogenenous, libertarian, democratic, free of sexism and racism and ageism — would encourage an art of fantasy. The Surrealists,of course, recognized their affinity to genuine socialism, and I am merely re statingEdmund White portantly, the critic was implying that abasic issue of human rights (equal housingand job opportunities for gays) dependedon a highly subjective matter of his ownesthetic whim ("I won't support gays because l don't like their showy ways, theirflaunting, flamboyant parades"). No onewould feel justified in denying the freedomof Jews or blacks or women on such aflimsy pretext: one wouldn't gain muchcredence, for instance, by saying, "I'llgrant blacks better jobs if they'll just stopcarrying around those noisy transistors." Isuppose I'm saying I'd like to see straightcritics become more moral, more objective, more issue-oriented in approachinggay politics; gay oppression is not a question of caprice. Progressive straights havean obligation to fight for gay rights, regardless of whether straights like or dis¬like individual gays and gay fads.Within the gay community, I think lesbian and gay solidarity is extremely im¬portant — and tactically wise. Perhaps inthe future, when the lesbian and gay movement is stronger, we may be able to affordto criticize one another. Right now, howev¬er, we must build a sense of gay communi¬ty. For that reason, I was reluctant to criti¬cize other gay men in my book. Moreover,since we still know so little about how gayslive in other cities and in other economicand age categories, I thought it more useful to record, to explore, rather than tojudge. I saw myself as a reporter first.Kaye: Who do you admire among contemporary writers?White: The best writers in Americatoday, I think, are poets, especially JamesMerrill, James Schuyler, John Ashbery,Alfred Corn, Adrienne Rich, Thom Gunn,the late Elizabeth Bishop. Among youngerpoets, Dennis Cooper is someone I findpromising. It strikes me that we are livingthrough one of the most glorious ages ofpoetry in the English language, compara¬ble to the Elizabethan period and the Ro¬mantic age. Whereas Pound said manyyears ago that poetry should strive to be atleast as good as prose, today the formulamust be reversed — prose writers mustlook to poets for inspiration, refinement ofdiction, examples of splendid invention.James Merrill's recently completed trilogy (The Book of Ephraim, Mirabell andScripts For the Pageant) is one of the mostastonishing achievements of any period.Kaye: And among contemporary nove¬lists?White: Among living novelists, John Updike is a favorite. Thomas Pynchon mayhave written the single best Americannovel in Gravity's Rainbow (unless we areto consider Lolita as an American novel).Other writers who speak to me directly areColeman Dowell (Island People — andespecially The Snakes's House, which he isjust completing and which explores thetangled relationships between whites andblacks) and Christopher Isherwood andWilliam Burroughs. Among younger novelists Bertha Harris ( Lover) seems very appealing. The young French gay writers Ilike include Tony Duvert (Journal d’un innocent), Guy Hocquenghem (HomosexualDesire and La race d'Ep) and RenaudCamus (his tricks will be published in En¬glish next year).Kaye: What can we expect to see fromEdmund White in the future? Are theregoing to be any surprising changes in whatyou do?White: I hope so. I do like to surprise my¬self. I believe it was Gide who said he likedto lose with each new book the audience hehad won with the previous work — and thisseems to me a standard to emulate. After Ifinish my "autobiographical" novel, I planto do a sort of Bildungsroman about the education of a young man in a strange society I'm creating; this novel has no gaycharacters (I've already written ahundred pages of it). It will be called Caracole. And I'm toying with the idea of doinga book similar to States of Desire — similar in that it will be travel notes, impressions rather than sociological research.But this one will be called The Rich and thePoor and will juxtapose portraits of peopie, straight and gay, from opposite endsof the social spectrum.The Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980 — 11Hyde Park Novels: Tales of Love,In an article on Hyde Park novels published in these pages a number of yearsago, Albert Tannler referred to "...the un¬guarded moment when you — whether stu¬dent, faculty, staff or neighbor — said" 'when I write my novel' ". A long list ofnovelists and erstwhile novelists, including writers such as-Theodore Dreiser, Phi¬lip Roth, Edna Ferber, James T. Farrell,Saul Bellow and Sherwood Anderson, aswell as Paul Niemark and Scott Spencer,have all given in to the urge to write a bookabout the U. of C. It is rumored that morebooks have been written about the Univer¬sity of Chicago than any other Univesityother than Cambridge in England. Most ofthe U. of C. books are traditional universi¬ty novels where, in Tannler's words,"Alma Mater is the central character."But some more off beat books have beenset in Hyde Park. English professorWalter Blair co authored (under thepseudonym "Mortimer Post") Candidatefor Murder (1936), a mystery about amurder in the faculty club, and Bette How¬land's W-3 describes life in Billings' men¬tal ward.The following is a small sampling ofsome of the more off-beat Hyde Parknovels. Very little, other than Hyde Parkperhaps, unifies these books, except forthe curious fact that they all seem to haveat least one character (usually central)who is either a manic-depressive, a sui¬cide, or simply a run-of-the mill HydePark crazy. —F.L.DarkLaughterThis time of year most of us think ofleaving Hyde Park, and in Dark Laughter,Bruce Dudley does just that. Fed up with* hack writing and Hyde Park intellectuals,Dudley one night flees from his job, hiswife, and his home. He takes cover in theIndiana small town where he was born.Dark Laughter (Liveright, 1925) wasSherwood Anderson's first novel to winpopular praise. With the works of Fitz¬gerald, Hemingway, and Faulkner righton its heels, however, Dark Laughterquickly fell by the wayside and has beenwidely forgotten, and not without reason.The book could be called a poor man'sUlysses. Anderson admired Joyce, and,according to Dark Laughter's introduc¬tion, "very frankly took (Joyce's) experi¬ment as a starting point for the proserhythm of the book." With no better than atenth grade education from Clyde, Ohio,and a Midwesterner's sensibilities, howev¬er, Anderson never came close to theeurythmic grace of James Joyce. His at¬tempt at a Molly Bloom style soliloquy, forinstance, is nothing less than pitiful. DarkLaughter contains an orgy reminiscent ofBloom's visit to the whorehouse, but An¬derson cops out, leaving everything to thereader's imagination.Nevertheless, when Anderson forgetsabout trying to imitate an Irish classicist,his writing is vivid and moving. The storydescribes a man who, after abandoning his Jwife, takes on the alias of "Bruce Dudley," 5drifts from job to job, and ends up as a gar-dener for a wealthy factory owner, whose >wife he seduces. As the title suggests,Dark Laughter is black humour, funny attimes, but finally sad.Anderson may not have had Joyce'scommand of words but he did have his livefor them. Indeed, Dark Laughter is a storyabout words, spoken and unspoken.Bruce Dudley, a true Hyde Parker, is inlove with words. He leaves Chicago be¬cause he can't stand the tremendous wasteof them. His newspaper job there worrieshim, "Fellows making a mess at words,writing the newspaper jargon". His wife'sHyde Park friends bother him for the verysame reason. Sometimes Bernice used to talk —she and her friends talked a gooddeal. They all, the young illustratorsand the writers who gathered in therooms in the evening to talk — well,they all worked in newspaper officesor. in advertising offices just asBruce did. They pretended to de¬spise what they were doing but kepton doing it just the same. "We haveto eat," they said. What a lot of talkthere had been about the necessity ofeating.Bruce however, dreams of words evenafter he leaves:He was a little afraid of words. Theywere such tricky, elusive things . . .Could thoughts and images be laidon paper some day as Sponge Martinlaid on varnish, never too thick,never too thin, never lumpy? ... Hehad wanted to experiment, slowly,going carefully, handling words asO'Gaha's Bookstoreyou might precious stones, givingthem a setting ... Give me the word.Let my throat and my lips caress thewords of your lips . . . Word-lovers,sound lovers — the blacks seemed tohold a tone in some warm place,under their red tongues perhaps . . .Words to make people lovers . . .Words were bullets.There are many themes in Dark Laugh¬ter: words, impotence, and the war be¬ tween men and women, to name a few, butAnderson blends them expertly. When hereaches too far, the Joycean style can beirritating, but as a whole Joycean modeworks well. At the end we do feel empathyfor all three main characters, Bruce Dud¬ley, the factory owner Grey, and Grey'swife, Aline. No one is a hero and no one is avillain, but each is real, steadily lying tohim or herself while unalterably, inevit¬ably, skidding towards the truth.— Philip MaherThe HigherAnimalsIf hell is "other people", then the lowestcircle has to be U of C graduates who hangaround campus for no constructive purpose. This is the major impression thatH.E.F. Donahue's novel The Higher Ani¬mals conveys. The book is about six orseven friends who are "campus widows",males and females who "hang around col¬lege after their college days the way somepeople take over a ski tow or hang arounda beach." The book is set in 1950 and mostof the actin takes place in a bar, the"Quadrangle Tavern", a retreat from therealities of a rapidly encroaching ghetto.Here, they coldly mock each other's hollowlives with priggish, pseudok-intellectual puns and quips.There are numerous references to HydePark and University locales, but the bookdoes not make up much of a portrait.There are brief character portrayals of aUniversity trustee, a dean, and severalprofessors that show them all to be shal¬low, selfish hypocrites, but these portray¬als do not make much of an impressionsince all the characters are this way.The main character is one Daniel Conn,a bored nihilistic World War 11 vet and Col¬lege grad who now works in "Gahaghan'sBookstore." He also sounds as if he hasread too many poor Ernest Hemingwayimitations. The book is sub-titled "A romance", and ostensibly it concerns DanielConn's discovery of love, but the charac¬ters are so superficial and the plot so con¬voluted that the account is hardly convinc¬ing.There is some rather arbitrary businessabout a fire that kills several elderly HydeParkers, and best of all for the reader isthe apocalyptic climax: a group of hillbil¬lies comes up to the South Side to shoot anumber of people, including the monotonous and fainly repulsive grad studentswho people this novel.— Jeff CaneFallingSusan Fromberg Schaeffer's novel, Falling, comes to rest when Elizabeth Kamen,survivor of 2V2 academic degrees from U.of C, completes her work for the thirdwhile simultaneously recovering from herbreakdown in Hyde Park. She then moveson to New York, a college teaching job,and marriage.Elizabeth's triumphs are hard won. In¬secure, obsessive, and extremely bright,this feisty heroine almost does herself in.After academic overload, disappointingromance, and persistent encroachmentsfrom abominable parents, she wakes upin... a gray place. She knew shewas in a hospital bed from thefeel of the sheets. They werewhite and tight and starched.There was only one pillow onthe bed; it was a single bed,and it floated grayly in thecenter of the room, narrow asa stick. Elizabeth could nottell the color of the ceiling orthe floor; she knew she andthe room had been drained ofblood . . .Elizabeth's main problem has been herboyfriend — a selfish and soulless scientistwho objects to her increasingly eccentrichabits (e.g., wearing dresses made out ofupholstery fabric) but couldn't care lessabout the causes behind the quirks. Mad¬dened by the strains of living with Mark,Elizabeth finally informs him that"Your sister, your beautifulblonde gentle sister with herflat chest and her big bottomand her hair shorter thanyours so it never needs set¬ting, and her two beautifulblonde children with theirbeautiful blue eyes who keepher from studying Chinese,your sister slept with her hus¬band's brother on the rug infront of her couch, in front ofthe Christmas tree, lastChristmas, 1959."jMark leaves her, immaculate as a Petridish.But Elizabeth plunges on. Released fromBillings after her suicide attempt, she becomes the patient of a Loop psychiatrist.She also renews her friendship with Armand, another unstable University student, during their late night meeting at an12 The Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980Lust, and Madnessunnamed delicatessen, Armand confides:"My analyst wants to rapeme." The waitress stopped inher tracks. "He does?" Elizabeth said absently, wonderinghow she got into these things.."That's why I'm nervousabout lying on the couch," Armand said, "I keep thinkinghe's going to leap on me.""Leap on you?" asked Elizabeth, picturing a perfectlyplump analyst, holding a bustof Freud, hurtling out of hisdanish modern chair and ontoArmand's one hundred andfour pound frame. "Leap onme, you know, from behind,"Armand said, peevish.Schaeffer's affection for Hyde Park isamply demonstrated, but not with falsepaeans. The challenge of the College, andthe enlightened toughness it breeds in Elizabeth, are valued most. Before her arrival in Chicago, Elizabeth. . . was terrified. All summer,people had told her about theUniversity, how hard it was,how only geniuses went there,how everyone was eccentric,how everyone cracked underthe strain.And on her first acquaintance with the-College, she. . . could not get over its size.Its gray walls rose up, towering, leaving little pieces ofblue sky, jagged, like bits of abrilliant puzzle she had noplace in.Elizabeth's problems are both comicaland unsettling. After rescuing a torturedlaboratory mouse from its monstrous apparatus, she confronts the professor incharge of the experiment.When she stopped crying, shemarched down the hall, andinto the office of Dr. Fromm.He started to say something,hello, but when he saw whatshe had, he said, "Take thatthing out of here. I'm allergicto rats." "Oh, too bad,"snapped Elizabeth, her voicerising helplessly, like a balloon torn from its string. "Youfind out who did this, you findout who left this animal hereovernight, you look how itsfeet are clamped; who the helldo you all think you are,Adolph Eichmann? You findout who did this, and you dosomething about it, or I'll findout who did this. I'll call thatnumber that accredits yourlab and lets you use thesedamn animals; you do something about it now." DoctorFromm looked terrified, repulsed. "Elizabeth," he started to say, getting up. "Getup," she said, "come withme." He stared at her. "Comewith me," she said in the samehard voice. "You're going toinject this rat and put it tosleep. Now." Doctor Frommgot up and followed her, as ifhypnotized. When he filled thesyringe, Elizabeth saw it waslong enough to go through thetiny pink body. When he injected the animal, his handswere shaking. He was notsneezing. "Thank you, doctor," Elizabeth said in a horrible voice she did not recognizeas her own. "I go to school 1nChicago; I have no manners." Molly McQuade Endless LoveStrictly speaking. Endless Love is onlyhalf a Hyde Park book; roughly fifty percent occurs elsewhere: New York, Vermont, the Loop, and assorted sanitariumsin outlying Chicago suburbs. But its author, Scott Spencer, was raised in HydePark, and he knows,as we know, that HydePark's white middle class is connected bydirect cultural pipeline to all the aboveplaces. (Except, perhaps, the Loop.)Why this story of a young man's obsesScott Spencersive, life consuming love for a woman hadto happen here is a question of limited fascination. The novel's strengths lie in itscharacterizations and its lack of cynicism,not in its evocation of place. But storieshave to happen somewhere, and novelistsoften fare well when they stick to theirhome terrain. So Spencer studs EndlessLove with references to actual streets andactual restaurants, delivers vague impressions of Hyde Park's economic and ethnicdiversity. Because these allusions oftenseem gratuitous, and of meaning only tolocals, one wonders about his selection. Heis not exactly aiming, on the other hand,for Yoknapatawpha.The outside world views Hyde Park as acommunity of white University people andblack neighborhood people. (This applies,of course, to the shockingly slim portion ofpeople in the outside world who have anyconception of us at all.) Those living here,however, know there are others in ourmidst: white, bourgeois professional peopie who raise families, work downtown,shop at the Co op, and have, at most, a tenuous connection to the University. It is thispopulation sample that peoples EndlessLove.I doubt these people are as able to ignorethe University as are Spencer's fictionalcharacters. Spencer's parents send theirchildren to school in the East — back East,that is; all the families have their roots inNew England or New York. The protagonist, David Axelrod, himself attends Roosevelt University, but he is regarded as unambitious. The only U of C personsemi prominent in the book is a womanDavid meets in an asylum far from HydePark: "Stephanie was just twenty and already a graduate student at the Universityof Chicago. She had brutal nightmares andwandered about in her sleep." The token Uof C student, once again, is a crazy.Yet when those kids leave home they dis jcover Hyde Park carries panache, andpresumably it's because of the University's reputation as a haven for half bakedbut with it intellctuals. Says Jade, thenovel's love object, now a student inStoughton, Vermont:'I miss the old neighborhood. We'relucky to be from there, believe me.Especially when you come east.They really give you hell for being amidwesterner out here, but it helpsif you're from Hyde Park. You cankeep up with things.''Like what?''Talk.' She shrugged. 'Stuff. Is the Medici coffeehouse still open?'If Hyde Park has any thematic functionin Endless Love it rests in its alleged cosmopolitanism. The implications of settinga novel about love in a strong community,only strengthened by the differences between its citizens, are apparent enough.Perhaps Hyde Park really has this significance for Spencer. But to most of us "endless love" used in the same breath as"Hyde Park" is oxymoronic (with or without the prefix).— Karen HornickShe LivesOne of the more funny items to appear inthe New York Times Book Review was aten word summary of Erich Segal's LoveStory: "Boy meets girl, boy loves girl, girldies, boo hoo." She Lives by Paul Neimarkis probably the only Hyde Park novel tohave been made into a television movie, although that version, which starred DeziArnaz Jr., changed the location to a college in California. She Lives, which is either a limp take off on Love Story, or else aridiculously improbable romance, is bestsummed up as "Boy meets girl, boy lovesgirl, girl almost dies, so what?".Andy Reed is a death obsessed studentin the College who places an ad in an unnamed student newspaper which reads:"Love Music But Can't Dig Death. NoWay. If You're Female and the Same,Write Box 551 2”. Pam Rainey, an equallyneurotic college student, answers the ad.Five hours after Pam and Andy meet theyconsumate their relationship in Harper Library:They stood in front of the li¬brary with only fourteen minutes to go, talking aboutBobby Kennedy's funeral . . .He took her arm and theythe "Medici" Restaurantwalked up the steps. At thedoor he bent, put one armaround her back, reacheddown and scooped up her longlegs at the knees with theother. A balding fellow with anarmload of books topped byFuture Shock happened toopen the door and Andy carried Pam inside."Mmmm, so warm inherre," she whispered whenhe'd put her down. "By theway, does this mean we'remarried?""Never."She kissed him.. . . "Here!" Andy whispered, motioning Pam to duckinto the smoking room. "We'll lose ourselves behindthe big couch."All of this hardly a good start for a novel,and it's all down hill from the Harper Library love scene on. Pam and Andy movein together and spend their days and nightsacting out the fantasies of neurotic collegestudents. Pam discovers that she has arare blood disease (which unlike the disease of her Radcliffe counterpart, isnamed —"lymposarcoma"). She almostdies . . . then doesn't. That's it, and sincePam is so tritely and unsympatheticallydrawn, we hardly care whether she livesor croaks.My advice for author Paul Niemark istht he see a writing tutor.— Faye Isserow LandesZen andthe ArtIn a self important claim similar to thesort often made by the University, Zen andthe Art of Motorcycle Maintenance is "aninquiry into values".Zen earned critical and popular successwhen it came out in 1974 The book is not aformal philosophical treatise, but rather anovel about Pirsig and his eleven year oldj son who travel west from Minneapolis toI the Pacific by motorcycle. Within the bookI there is a great deal of discourse by Pirsigj on an quisi mystical idealized concept of"Quality".Yet, Zen is not simply an on the roadtravelogue by a thinking protagonist, as inthe works of Kerovac, but is a journeyback into Pirsig's past, which partly takesplace at the University. As the trip westprogresses, we see Pirsig finding his present discourse on "Quality" becoming progressively closer to the obsession with thenotion of Quality he once had as a youngscholar. This vague, silent past finallyspeaks up in the fourth and final section ofI the book. It is the story of Phaedrus, a| name Pirsig gives his old self after the figj ure is one of Plato's dialogues.Phaedrus is an erratically brilliantj scholar, with an I.Q. of 170, who in pursuit; of wisdom and truth, takes up science, only| to be disappointed by the ambiguity andrelativeness which science offers. WhatPhaedrus strives tor is the elusive source1 of reason, "the ghost that underlies all of1 technology, all of modern science, all of| western thought. . . the ghost of rationalityj itself", which Phaedrus calls "Quality".Phaedrus then turns to philosophy, butcomes to believe that philosophy as a disContinued on p. 23The Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 198G — 13I Last chanceto saveon Tribunehome delivery!University of Chicago students,have we got a deal for you! Now, youcan get the Tribune delivered foronly $1.25 a week—that's 40% off*the average delivered price! Whenour published price increased lastNovember, you Were still able toenjoy home delivery at the low stu¬dent rate. And if you subscribe today,you can continue to take advantageof this low rate.Now is the perfect timefo sign up forTribune home delivery. Not only will you find the largest job listing inChicagoland, but also money-savingfeatures on summertime fun, a handydaily news summary and a weeklymoney management guide to helpyou make the most of your dollar!There's no better time than now tosubscribe for the Tribune's excitingfeatures, convenient home deliveryand low, low price. And this is the lasttime you get this low rate before theprice increases this fall! Hurry, offerexpires July 1, 1980!Yes! I want to take advantage of this low Tribune home deliveryprice, before the price increases! My payment of $ isenclosed. IMail to:Chicago Tribune, Rm. 259435 N. Michigan Ave.Chicago, III. 60611DeliverDaify and Sunday $20 (save $12.80)*Daily only: $12 (save $7.28)*Sunday only: $8 (save $5.52)*jry all summer (16 weeks)aify and Sunday: $20 (save $12.£ June 1980—June 1981(last time this low rate will be available)Daily and Sunday: $65 (save $41 60)*Daily only: $39 (save $23 66)*Sunday only: $26 (save $17 94)*NameAddressCity (please print in ink)Apt. No..Zip. Phone.Acct. No. Method _ . , , (make payable to theof payment ( j Money Order lJ Check Chicago Tribune)Charge my: □ Mastercharge □ VisaExp. DateSignatureIjmtothe •»Chicago (Tribune Offer expires July 1,1980average home-delivered price Of $9.25 a month oiler good only (or students residing in the university ol Chicago area cooley'scooIcy’s cornerMon.-Sat.10 am to 6 pmSunday12 noon to 5:30 pm In Harper Court5211 S. Harper Avenue363-4477START YOURDAYOFFRIGHTBREAKFASTAtiiutfinttson(Tommona7-10 a.m.Comer of 57th & University FOR-USERVICECENTER1608 E. 53rd St. ***■,CHICAGO. ILLINOIS 60615 • 1312} 667 2800Next to 1C TracksDo It YourselfRepairs$3.75 hourvith tools$4.95 hourrented tools -(metric a standard)One Month OnlyFast Oil Change•10.95May 1 - May 31SOON TO COMEUSED CARRENTAL667-280014 — The Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, I960Magnetic AvenuesI was on my own at an early age and that should count in my favor:I ve come back on the chance that you’ll come back to me.See how familiar I am to you still?And how the shadows come between us still?My helpless infidelities can be forgotten now,and I 11 be smooth-skinned and suspicious as a childuntil the day you have forgiven me.I 11 make it my business to be in the kitchentalking about the house.Remember how deeply we went into every poem,the long ones written in eyebrow pencil after the ink ran out?We understood the personal touch, and I kept your voiceon top of the cabinet when you were gone,and in spite of all the men I told exactly what was on my mindI still planned to write a history of privacy.This is about desire. I triedto lose it in the darkness many times.There were too many people in my life:younger sisters running off,wives dying in houses of other, unsuspected men,astonished women giving their color to things.It was then I began to care about canals,began to chart the wrecks beneath smooth water,sunken cruisers slowly transforming themselves to coral reefs.I rushed through Madagascar, Guatemala, Chicago;I was only trying to get away with something.Oh I had nerve. But you have ways with things I’d plannedto keep to myself: promises, posthumous poems,night-flowering odors and the clay taste afterwards.You’d do me good. And I could tear up my mapsof Tobago and Benghazi and offer, for once, my uncharted skin.I have pictures of submarines that dared not surface,of green bones at the South Pole, magnetic avenues on sea floors;I saw something of me, something of us in them.It is all for you if you will love me for it;I am here about desire as much as anything.Describe me to yourself again; arrange me among your possessions._ You and the shadows make quite a picture too.I’ll decorate your furniture with female heads with flowing hairand slowly write, in many languages,of locks lifting boats up into mountains,and muledrivers, oarsmen, oxkeeperswatching the sky and the sycamores go by.— Alane Rollings>L.fO$The Language ofFlowers or StarsFor a time I lived in a housewhere twelve young women werelike the months of the year.I could dance with them, butthat's all; I was forbiddeneven to talk. Seeking revengeone rainy day, I gave each flowersI'd brought back from a trip, afew understood. When they died, Idressed up as a bandit to scarethe others. They deliberately tookno notice. We all went outside forfresh air in summer. Each in ourway, we'd count the stars. When Ifound one too many, I said nothing.Would those rainy days be over?The skies close. You don’t havea sharp enough ear.— Raymond RadiquetRaymond Radiguet, protege of JeanCocteau, died in 1923 at the age of twentyalready the author of a novel, a novelisticautobiography and two volumes of poetry. Travels and Visitsin the Country1In the hearts of towns that reacheda sterile dotage long ago — if inkcould just dry up!In a shop where I gathered a few-faded roses, we brushed against Gertrudewhom one sees just once during her stayon land or sea. Glovemakers’ sign:a seductive likeness of death. That ironhand over my head, that’s my hand too,isn’t it, that the flies don’t knowto avoid?2In evening dress, the infanta of thecold dune offers me her milk. She teaches meto walk on sand without leaving tracks. Wecommunicate in languages more or less dead.Meanwhile the gentleman, whom the sea fitslike a glove, soon drowned, his ear againstthe waves, hears them decide his fate,without understanding— Raymond Radiguettranslated by Tim ErwinThe Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980 - 15tThe Little Pushcart That Coi"The Little Pushcart that Could" was a roundt¬able forum held at the University on February 26 ofthis year to discuss the problems of running smallpresses and little reviews. Sponsored by the Chica¬go Literary Review, the panel included Bill Monroe,present editor of Chicago Review, a quarterly jour¬nal of literature and art which is published at theUniversity of Chicago; Mary Cash, an editor at Primavera magazine, a yearly anthology of writingand art by women; Jonathan Brent, executive editor at Triquarterly magazine, a journal of literatureand the arts which is published at NorthwesternUniversity; and Tim Erwin, former editor of theChicago Review who is currently organizing a special issue of Chicago Review devoted to the works ofthe French "New Philosophers".The title of the forum is taken from the title of theanthology, The Pushcart Prize: Best of the SmallPresses (Avon Books), edited by Bill Henderson,which is an annual collection of poetry and fictionculled from the finest work put out by the nation'slittle reviews and small presses (Richard Kaye, coeditor of the Chicago Literary Review, occassionally interrupted the proceedings).Tim Erwin: I would like to open our discussion bysaying a few words about editing the little magazine. From 1975 to 1976 l edited the Chicago Review,and I've been advisory editor there for the yearssince.The Review, like the sea in Valery's CimitiereMarin, is touiours recommencee, always beginningagain. Because of the sheer volume of work and thelack of compensation, you are likely to have five ormore editors serving over the course of five years. Icame aboard the Review in the mid '70s, with theVietnamese war wound down, Jerry Ford givingway to Jimmy Carter in the White House and a sighof collective relief being heaved across thecountry.Clearly, there was a sense of having passedthrough a time of political crisis, or, to use the titleof an excellent book about the Watergate years, through a time of illusion. The era of outraged private fantasizing about the public realm demonstrated in a MacBird! or an Our Gang was long gone.And in place of the zaniness that Richard Brautiganor Kurt Vonnegut epitomized in the early '70s, therewas a more relaxed and public writerly stance.There was an accessibility and a hint of public spiritedness that I think is still with us. When people askme when I edited the Review, then, I tell them afterstreaking and before that phenomenon that hasbeen criticized as emperor's-new clothes, the newphilosophy.At the same time, to work at the magazine inthose years was not to participate in any general re¬laxation. There was the grinding round of soliciting,corresponding, editing and proofreading to performagainst a deadline. You learn close reading with avengeance, for example: to read not just cipher to ]cipher, but ceriph to ceriph, so that when you sleep £!visions of broken letters dance in your head, as in'^jsome concrete poem gone haywire. As I'm sure^Mary Cash, Jonathan Brent and Bill Monroe know ><0only too well, it takes often frantic effort to create Oan issue that will hold togetner and will reward theleisure moments a reader can spend with it. The littie magazine is a deceptively offhand looking publi¬cation. I hope Bill and John and Mary can give you abetter sense of the ordeal and the incredible privi¬lege of the small magazine editor.We are here tonight to ask our panel to tell uswhat is in the air. How, for example, are the smallmagazine and the small press faring in our not verycontroversial times, when a slim volume is, becauseof the economics of publishing, a little slimmer?Jonathan Brent: In 1975 at a conference at the Library of Congress, Stanley Kunitz said that hethought American publishing had reached a state ofcrisis, and he qualified that by saying that it wasn'tsimply an economic crisis (dollars and cents) butrather a crisis of the imagination. What he meant bythat, I think, was that the publishing industry was,through its limitations and the imposition of the eco Mary Cash, an editor of Primavera, with Chicago Re view editor Bill Monroenomics of the marketplace, imposing certain cri¬teria on the work of serious writers that the imagi¬nations of these serious writers could notspontaneously meet. And so, the imagination was ina state of crisis — in order for it to exist, to get out infront of a public, it had to meet certain sets of cri¬teria that the heads of the large publishing companies set. What I see as the role of the little magazineis to allow these writers a place where their imagi¬nation is not being restricted, where they can saywhat they want to do, basically. Still, that's thequixotic, if not chaotic, dream of most small liter¬ary editors, and it's not really, I think, what goes onin the world, at least not in my experience at Tri-Quarterly.I think that the role of the little magazine, at leastTriQuarterly's role, is split in two. On the one hand,our problem in terms of providing a place for the little magazine writer, tfis to have some criteriathink that is the first protto try to solve. And whileseem bad, the question i<it seems challenging inmanuscript is challengieven though it violates silectual criteria of value 1it.I also think one of themagazines face at some fstandard of value, somecoming through them. Tian editor complicated -terly stand for somethin!idea about literature, abThe other problem, whficult for the literary nhome for the free, creativI had not been confined to the wheelchair three days when my family,bored with entertaining me, left tovisit the zoo. I was sitting looking outthe window when the doorbell rang.The door was on the other side of theroom, and the floor was cluttered withclothes, books and dog toys. It wasslow going, and I had to yell, coming!when the bell rang a second time.I opened the door and there was atall, thin, bookish looking young manin a suit. He seemed even more surprised then I. He had to look down andspeak to me as though I were a child,and he seemed uncomfortable withthat. He squirmed his shoulders, adjusted his glasses and addressed myforehead."May l please speak with Miss Savage?""I am Miss Savage.""Oh." He adjusted his tie. He wascarrying what looked like a paperback book and a manila envelope. Hecleared his throat. "I am James Car-mody. I am from Canto Magazine inAndover, Massachusetts. I have cometo talk with you about the story you re¬cently submitted."Having spent the last three hourslooking out the window without muchthought, and being consequently asrelaxed in mind as was possible in aconscious state, my reflexes were alittle slow. I stared at him blankly andfelt a constriction in my chest. Helooked more and more uncomfort¬able. At last I remembered my breeding, and moved my wheelchair backwards."Won't you please come in?" Isaid. The room was absolutely filthy, andI didn't have the mobility to go aroundstraightening up, finding him a placeto sit. Not only that, but I was wearingtrack shorts, exposing the ghastlymess of my atrophying legs. I saythey were atrophying, although theyreally hadn't had time, but I was tiredof sitting, and they really were anugly sight.James Carmody stole glances at mylegs occasionally, but mostly hestared politely at my forehead. Helooked around the room only once,and I waved him to the sofa. Hepushed the clothes aside and satdown.I colored. "I was about to fold them.The laundry. Ha Ha."He nodded but did not smile. He laidthe manila envelope and the book,which turned out to be a copy of themagazine, on the coffeetable, ignoring the piles of Cosmopolitan, Peopleand Motorcycle World.He cleared his throat. "We receiveda submission from you severalmonths ago. I want to apologize for rejecting it."I was giving him my disingenuouslook. He clearly needed my help, but Ihad none to give."You see, we receive so many finesubmissions from people all over thecountry, that if we printed them all,we would have a magazine the size of £a telephone book!" He smiled at me, Eand I nodded sympathetically. $"Each submission is screened by ^several people. I am the first, and I ^did pass your story on to the next ^reader, but I'm afraid she saw some ^problems in it." «/> I looked down at my hands whichwere petting the gauze bandages onmy knees. Really, now, existing isenough of a problem, and here I amconfronted with an attempt on immor¬tality l made months ago. I wouldrather forget it."I realize there are problems," Isaid charmingly, "But I'm afraid Idon't know—""Well, you see, the problems I thinkshould be fairly easy to fix. You showtalent. What you are trying to do iscommendable, but technically youare immature."•I suddenly grew enormously tired.How could I tell this young man toleave?"Yes, well," l smiled, "I think thatthe only way to grow is to continuously experiment with new things. Yousee, I've spent nearly three years onthat story. I'm very busy and I hardly ever have time to write. Little blocksof time here and there aren't enough.That story would take weeks of un in-terupted concentration to straightenout. I'm sorry I wasted your time withit. Just a pipe dream, I guess." Ismiled, but he frowned."Does this mean you don't intend toresubmit?""Maybe the next one I write will bebetter." My cheeks were beginning tohurt from so much smiling.He looked down for a few seconds asif trying to think of new arguments."It was kind of you to come and talkto me about it," l said, hoping hewould begin to make his exit."Oh," he looked up, having re¬gained himself, "My folks live down¬stairs. It was no trouble, really, I washome for Christmas and I thought,when I heard you lived upstairs, that Iwould just drop by.""The magazine didn't send you?""Oh no," He smiled and stood up."Well, it was nice meeting you." Hestuck out his hand and I took it."Nice meeting you too," I mum¬bled."I can see myself out," he said,glancing at my legs. He tripped over astuffed puppy, but he still lookedmuch more in control than when I hadopened the door."You should kee/> writing, MissSavage," he said with his hand on thedoorknob."Thank you."When he shut the door it was quietagain. I wheeled myself over to thebookcase to see if there were anybooks in it I hadn't read yet.— Margaret SavageFear ofFailing ness about economics. Ncvery grubby for literaryeconomics. That's what pat Simon and Schuster, cBut you have to, at sojoke that is appropos heBritish colonel was talkirand he said, "Why is it, wconversation somehow awhen I talk to Arabs otabout art and literatureideas?" And so the Jew ;people always end up tallhave."In a way, that's the cWhen we get together, wetalk about money. And rMoney is important bee.derful the product, regarwriter who we have in Trthim what good is it?made?Mary Cash: I'm here toI also belong to the fictioview. Primavera is a veiwhen Tim and Jonathan Iand to the Chicago Revie'ginning to form. We've onThe other thing that maChicago Review and Trilwomen's magazine.I think we are more lilthan we're different fromto encourage women to wten responses to everyommit material, telling thening their poem and ho\improved. Given suggestiafter revision, or send us ‘pletely different. We haviprove, and I think that'sfunctions — to encourag16 — The Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980Editors Gather to Discuss the Big Issuesof Small Press PublishingJonathan Brent, executive editor ofTriQuarterly\e serious writer, so-called,of value, some aesthetic. Istem any serious editor haseven though the story mays whether at the same timean important way. If theng, then maybe it's good3me kind of abstract, intelthat you want to impose on■ problems that most littlejoint is having some kind ofkind of critical judgmenthat's how I see my task as- that is, making TriQuar3, stand for an attitude, anout contemporary culture,ich makes it even more difnagazine really to be the/e imagination, is this busi-)w on the one hand it seemseditors to be talking aboutleople like Richard Snyder,lo — that's all they do.me point. There is a little■re. At a cocktail party, alg to a Jewish friend of his,hen I talk to Jews, that ourIways turns to money, butjr conversation is alwaysand music and wonderful>aid to him, "Well, I guessking about what they don'tase with literary editors.? don't talk about ideas, wenoney is important. Why?ause regardless how wondless of this fabulous newQuarterly, if nobody readsWhat impact have youi represent Primavera, butn staff at the Chicago Re Richard Kaye, Chicago Literary Reviewco editor, with Tim Erwin, advisory editor ofthe Chicago Reviewmagazine than it has in the past, and perhaps itmatters less than it really should. The Chicago Review and Primavera, and most little magazines,owe their existence to some sort of sustaininggrants. The grants either come from parent institutions, or directly or indirectly from the government.Without those grants, the magazines could not exist.Moreover, our subscription list (and again, I'mspeaking collectively — I think this is true acrossthe board) is made up primarily of libraries andother non individuals — institutions of some kind.So we need not appeal to an audience in order toexist. But again I'm not sure this is to be wished.After all, the library stacks and the microfilm archives where our magazines can be found are hardly what you would call public places. I think we mayeven do our writers a disservice by putting themthere. I'd like to offer the idea that the reason ourmagazines are too small, if they are that, is becausethey don't consider audience enough. In spite of advertising, and in spite of the education of publictaste, we still haven't considered the possiblity of"improving our product."who have some promise, to continue writing.We began as a offshoot of the University feministorganization here on campus, and so we got our firstmoney from the U of C student activities organizetion. We have also applied for several grants, andget some each year. We could never break even byselling our magazine, but we don't do such a bad jobfor a magazine that's only been in existence for fiveyears. In fact, one of the things we do is to continueto sell our back issues. We have done five issues,now; we come out annually.Bill Monroe: It seems to me that most of the discussions of publishing that occur in writing workshops and on university campuses center on theproblem of getting into print: how does one get published? Why don't commercial publishers printmore books of poetry and serious fiction? Why isn'tthere a literary magazine specializing in x, y or z?But it may be that getting published (even thoughit's a difficult task) isn't really the problem today. Itseems to me that it is more difficult and more important for writers and publishers of small pressesand little magazines to figure out how to get read.This may not seem to be a problem at first, but ifyou take a look at the subscription lists of most literary magazines, you will find out that there are notmany individuals who are paying money to buy andread these magazines. "To publish" means to makepublic, or, to make a public. So I'd like to ask how alittle magazine can make a public. I'll use a mercantile model, since we're talking about economics.There seem to be two ways. The first is by advertising, and the second is by improving the product.Advertising is something all little magazines do —they promote themselves. But the notion of improv¬ing the product may be antithetical to the idea of theliterary magazine as Jonathan expressed it. If thereis a crisis of the imagination, if the commercialpresses are asking thing* of the imagination thatwriters cannot produce, then wouldn't the littlemagazines be contributing to that crisis if they said,let's "improve" our product? That is, let's make Brent: I worked in my dad's bookstore for a longtime, and I observed something. People come intothe store, and they see three stacks of books — allthe same book, you understand. One stack has onlygot one book in it, one has got three, and one has gotfive. They always go to the one that has five. Theylike to buy pickles out of a full pickle barrel, not outof one's that's empty.The same thing is true with the little magazine.The physical look of most little magazines puts peopie off — puts off, I should say, those readers whoare not morally committed to supporting literature.Erwin: I think there is a certain cachet to the waya magazine appears. Any editor wants to put asmuch money as he can into design and into the phys ical appearance, into making sure that the text isclean, that the contributors' notes are sharp andpointed, and so on. But do you think, as a panel, thatif you were to publish, let's say, meretricious writing, or if you were to go in the direction of the slicks,and publish work that was not of lasting value, thatyou thought was beneath your magazine's standards, and put it in a bright new wrapper, that youwould have much of a magazine?Would it produce, Jonathan, the kind of engagedreader and critic that you were talking about?Brent: I don't think so. But there are more thanten thousand people somewhere in the UnitedStates, who, if they knew about a magazine like TriQuarterly or Primavera, and it looked attractive,would buy it, and cead it, and say, "This is interesting stuff." One of the problems is, these magazines just don't get to those people.Kaye: I'm curious to know whether or not a littlemagazine should be trying for a larger audience orwhether there is anything wrong with being happywith a modest enterprise. Jonathan, what you'resaying sounds exciting, but too good to be true —this meeting of art and enterprise. I just don't thinkit works, usually.Erwin: Can anybody think of an example of a littlemagazine that really does seem to work? Let's say asmall magazine that is not university-supported,that is consistently attractive in its graphics . . . areyou going to say Antaeus Jon?Brent: Well, not Antaeus, frankly.Erwin: But I would say it's successful.Brent: Oh yes, in those limits — but it's financedby Heinz pickles! That's where its money comesfrom.There is a stable body of people who buy poetry —about 900 — as many people in the United States asthere are billionaires. So it's a small circle offriends. Yet the little magazines of the '30s and '40shad mass audiences, and why? I think because atthat time literature was perceived in a political waythat it is not any longer. Literature served the purposeofpoliticalaspirations of one sort or another.Monroe: This is the sort of thing that I was talkingabout. The closer you get to people in the materialyou are printing, the more likely you are to havethem read the magazine. It's a very simple truism,but I think it can be overlooked.Cash: Unlike TriQuarterly and Chicago Review,Primavera's subscriptions are not mostly from institutions. They are from individuals. That's because we're perceived politically — because we area women's magazine.Erwin: There really are two kinds of magazines,aren't there? There are many more magazines thatContinued on page 18Boring Quarterly Soon to Blossomry new magazine. In fact,first came to TriQuarterlyw, Primavera was just be¬lly been around five years,kes us different from theQuarterly is that we are a*e other small magazinesthem. Of course, we want'rite, and we do send writ-», even the men, who subn why we are not publisha/ we think it might beions, the writers resubmitjomething else that's com-e seen a lot of women imalso one of our essentiale newer women writers. our product attractive to readers so that it willsell?Yet it seems that if we can get people to buy themagazine (not only pay $3 for it, but also invest thetime and the energy needed to read it), then wehave accomplished our purpose. If we don't do that,then we haven't. And when you're talking aboutbuying, you're talking about audience appeal. Butthe term "audience appeal" smacks of Madison Av¬enue, underhand promotion, rhetorical demogo-guery. We don't find audience appeal a problem ifwe are placing an ad in the New York Review ofBooks. And yet, somehow, making appeals to an au¬dience by means of the magazine itself is questionable and dubious, something that only the commercial presses should concern themselves with.For some of the reasons Mary brought up, con¬sideration of audience matters less for the little Founded just twelve hours ago,Boring Quarterly cast an imme¬diate pall on the gloomy literati,"spumoni" cognoscenti, baldingquills, starving garrets and otherguests attending its inauguralparty at the South Side Morgue.Although no editors were present,the fated venture's patrons wereon hand to give it a much neededkiss of death. Said Mrs. LillianCraw, a faithful killjoy from thestart:"Oh, I just couldn't care lessabout words But they need to beproofread and pawed over, distorted, inflated, gussed up anddebased. That's what I hired the editors for.""Instead of guard dogs or axmurderers?" one reporterasked.Mrs. Craw replied:, "Wecouldn't use those dilettantes."But others were less optimisticover the prospects of the fledgling Lit mag. "You mean I'll really have to read it?" a portly,flushed gentleman asked, waddling out of the morgue and intothe night. At mention of typesetti¬ng costs, another party goer decomposed into slimy asterisk.Present circulation of the quarterly is three (3). Boring's officesare permanently displaced. Ad vertising budget: nil. But theproject's lackeys rallied when itsintegrity was impugned."We like our freedom of move¬ment," a spokesman explained."After all, at the worst we'll sueceed and be bought up by Gulfand Western. It isn't so bad to beexploited. Or sub literate," hemaintained.Future issues will include a bibliography of Joyce Carol Oates'complete corpus, "sledgehammer" fiction (short, but to thepoint) and a special section onvegetarian (bloodless) poems,certain to offend all tastes. Newstand price is negotiable.— Molly McQuadeThe Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980 — 17©avidMiller to understand it.Monroe: But what about the alternativeargument — the assertion that in order forNaked Lunch to get any publicity at all,any public at all, it had to appear someplace like the Chicago Review, and that ifChicago Review gives up its role of findingthese inaccessible, unusual, experimental,risk-taking kinds of writers, then who willfind them? And what will happen in ten orfifteen or twenty years? There will havebeen no progress in the arts. (At least,that's the argument.)Erwin: Do we consider ourselves goodjudges of what the public wants? I thinkthat's a question that ought to be askedhere, and maybe it can be answered bytalking about how you do evaluate texts atChicago Review, at Primavera, and at Tri-Quarterly. What happens to a manuscriptthat comes in through the mail?Monroe: At CR, the fiction staff gets3,000 manuscripts a year, and publishesabout thirty. One out of a hundred is ac¬cepted. Poetry gets about as many. Non¬fiction has fewer — close to five or sixhundred submissions.Because so many stories come in, fictionstaff members evaluate them individually.A story may be read by only two membersof the staff, and then be rejected. Whereasthe poetry staff will read a poem that lookspromising during a meeting, and perhapsread it again and again, so that everyonegets the sound of it. The poetry staff fol-smalt magazines, and how do we get the j lows a quasi-democratic process: after de¬small magazines into the hands of our j bate, they vote on whether the poemreaders? should be accepted or not. The nonfictionBrent: l think it's a very self destructive staff also reads all the articles in common,attitude that some small magazine editors | so that the six or seven staff membershave — to think that appealing to a large j have all read the article and can discuss itaudience is somehow anathema. How odd at the meeting. Their process isn't a demo¬an attitude! On the one hand, we're com- t craticvote; it's like trying to come to someplaining that we don't have circulation; on ■ sort of common conclusion. At that point,the other hand, we're saying that we don't j the manuscripts that are selected are sentwant )00,000 readers. For God's sake, we to the general editor. Then another dia-don't want to be rich. Why not? It seems tc logue occurs — between the general editorme Charles Dickens didn't have a great j and the individual staffs and the staffdeal of difficulty peddling Pickwick members themselves. The conclusion ofPapers. Henry James was a commercial ! that dialogue is final,writer, in the real sense of the word. Hewrote to make his livelihood, as much as Erwin: How do things happen at Prima-Harold Robbins does. He wanted to have f vera, Mary?as big an audience as possible. Why not? |Why not? Cash: We have one common staff and doalmost everything collectively. We don'tErwin: What about the unknown writer, j separate the manuscripts. We circulatethen? What will his place be in the small them first; everyone reads them andmagazine if the small magazine devotes it- writes down comments. After three peopleself to moving in the direction, say, of a have read something, it can be rejected,more commercial publication? What will : (it's put into a pile, and someone writes abe the place of the kind of writer who note of rejection to the author.) The manu-writes in a way that is not yet accepted? scripts that at least three people have notwanted to reject, or that anyone wants toBrent: I suppose that there are some peo- j discuss, we discuss at meetings, where wepie who are writing things that are inac- j decide in a quasi-democratic way: aftercessible because their sensibilities are ad- : discussion, we vote,vanced. But I don't really believe that. I 1think it's a myth. Erwin: Jon?Chicago magazines rub shouldersSmall PressesContinued from page 17are eclectic, al¬though they may have a certain identifi¬able style as TriQuarterly does, than thereare journals devoted to a particular pro¬gram. So that's one trend you can point to— the fact that there are no longer verymany programmatic or polemical jour¬nals being published. And I think the trendtowards eclecticism is partly a result of fi¬nancial pressure.But I'd like to move from questions of fi¬nances toward the larger questions thathave been raised about developing an au¬dience. How do we get more Trillings, .Empsons and Burkes? Because this is theideal that Jonathan is talking about — a :critic who is engaged with the audience.How do you get that sort of writer into ourErwin: What about a John Mella? Mella isa fellow who's been publishing in CR forabout ten years and who is a very serious iwriter, who worked at various menial jobs jand now teaches at the college level here inChicago. He's a wonderfully good writer, :and l commend him to all of you. He's got anovel published by Swallow Press calledTransfigurations.Brent: If he makes up his mind that hewants to write in a way that he knows inadvance very few people will be able to un¬derstand, then it seems to me that he isself-consciously isolating himself from apublic. And then to get angry at the factthat nobody is buying his book, seems to 1tally self-contradictory.Erwin: I should say that we have no evi¬dence that he's angry about this situation.(Laughter.) (Brent: But I think the same holds truefor the editors of little magazines. If theyself-consciously select work that theyknow in advance few people are going to |understand, then why complain if few peo- jpie understand it? If it is work that's goingto last, like Naked Lunch (which was pub Ilished in Chicago Review, and made quitea stink), well, then you know it's going tocatch on, and people will eventually come Brent: We get maybe forty, fifty, some¬times in a peak period a hundred, manu¬scripts a week. Fiction, primarily: Tri-Quarterly stopped publishing poetry fouryears ago, concluding that nobody knewwhich end was up.Many of the manuscripts we get comefrom agents. Those are read instantly, ei¬ther by Elliot Anderson or myself. Wehave a very small staff; there are onlythree of us who read the manuscripts.Anne Zwierzyna, our associate editor,reads the so called over the transom sub¬missions (unsolicited manuscripts). Ofthese unsolicited pieces, possibly, four,five, maybe a half a dozen, will be selectedfor publication in the course of a year.About sixty percent of each issue comesfrom agents.The process of judging the manuscriptsis, as I was trying to say before, a compli¬cated one, because on the one hand I havecertain ideas about what I think a goodstory is. But on the other hand, I have tokeep in mind that if I think a story is notgood in terms of its content or form, I haveto ask myself whether I'm being chal¬lenged, that is, if what I'm reading asksme to defend myself in an interesting way,then it's a good story. Then it's a story thatmeans something. Then it's a NakedLunch.Continued on p. 19 C.W. Airport(S| Limousine g■■>8 e r v i e ela333 EAST 63rd STREET CHICAGO ILLINOIS 60621HOURLY SERVICE TO AND FROM AIRPORTALL DEPARTURES FROM O’HARE AIRPORT LOCATED ATCARSONS’S ROTUNDA BUILDING LOWER LEVELCURRENT TERMINAL POINTSBuses depart from the following locationsROBERT MOTEL333 E. 63rd Street $5.00C.C.E. UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO1307 E. 60th Street $5.00WINDERMERE HOTEL1642 E. 66th Street $5.00DEL PRADO HOTEL5307 Hyde Park Blvd. $500HYDE PARK HILTON4900 S. Chicago Beach Drive $5.00EFFECTIVE JUNE 15, 1980THE FOLLOWING SCHEDULEWILL BE IMPLEMENTEDTRY OUR NEW OWL SERVICELAST BUS LEAVES SOUTH-SIDEAT 12:00 MIDNIGHTLAST BUS LEAVES AIRPORTAT 1:45 A.M.Allow 2 Hours Before Flight Timelehcrt's C.C.I. Wiwicram Ml Ye* By* Ml Bitot AUITE ■EMIT5:00 AM 5 10 AM 5 15 AM 5:15 AM 5:20 AM 6:00 AM 630 AM6:00 AM 6:10 AM 6 15 AM 6.15 AM 6:20 AM 7:00 AM 7:30 AM700 AM 7 IO AM 7:15 AM 7 15 AM 7:20 AM 8:15 AM 8:30 AMBOO AM 8:10 AM 8:' 5 AM 815 AM 8:20 AM 9:’S AM 9:30 AM9 00 AM 9,10 AM 9:15 AM 9 15 AM 9 20 DOD1< AM 10:30 AM10.00 AM 10:10 AM 10:1 5 AM 10 15 AM 10:20 AM 11:10 AM n:30 AM11:00 AM 11:10 AM n is AM i r: t s AM 11:20 AM 12:10 PM 12:30 PM1200 AM 12 IQ PM t c PM 12:15 PM 12:20 PM IIS PM 1:30 PM1:00 PM MC PM '• i.s m 1 15 PM 1:20 PM 2:10 PM 2:30 PM2:00 PM 2 10 PM 2 • 5 PM 2 15 PM 2.20 PM 3: .5 PM 3:30 PM2 45 PM 255 PM 3:05 PM 3 0 5 PM 3-10 PM 415 PM 4 30 PM330 PM 3:40 PM 3 45 PM 3 45 PM 3:50 PM S;15 PM 5:30 PM4:15 PM 4 25 PM 4 30 PM 4 30 PM 4:35 PM 5:45 PM 6:00 PM5:00 PM 5 >0 PM 515 PM 515 PM 5 20 PM 6:15 PM 6:30 PMS 45 PM 5,55 PM 6'C 5 PM 6 05 PM 6:10 PM 7 00 PM 7 15 PM6 30 PM 6:40 PM fV Eb PM 6 45 PM 6:50 PM 7-sa PM B 00 PM7:15 PM 7 25 PM '/ '2 rj FM 7 3C PM 7:35 PM 8:40 Pm 8 45 PM9:00 PM B:10 PM 8 15 PM 8-15 PM 8:20 PM 9:15 PM 9:30 PM9:00 PM 9:10 PM 9 15 PM 9:15 PM 9:20 PM 10:15 PM 10:30 PM1200 PM 12 IS AM 12 20 AM 12:20 »M 12:25 AM VCD AM 1:4 5 AM493-2700-1 955-8800DUE TO INFLATION ALL FARESWILL BE RAISED $1.25ACROSS THE BOARDNEW FARES WILL BE EFFECTIVEAS OF JUNE 15,198018 — The Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980*-i - >i$*rt ,4 ■j’-’-. iv .' ’il*Primavera: The History of an IdeaThe purpose of Primavera is to bethe voice of women here in Chicago... What we're after is literature.— Edith TurnerWe are no longer interlopers in aworld governed by the masculinemystique where the highest achievement is to write or draw "like aman."— Clara Ann BowlerOur poetry has grey matter, guts ...and gender.— Marya Argetsinger Smith(Copyright 1975 inPrimavera, Volume I)by Janet Ruth HellerThese statements represent the views of a5several editors of Primavera, an anthology of literature and artwork by women 5from all over the United States. The publi 5cation is edited and distributed by women.Primavera also sponsors poetry readings °for Chicago writers. I am a foundingmother of the journal.When the Primavera staff began to meetin 1974, the only other literary magazineson campus were the Chicago Review andWild Onions. The Review almost neverpublished local writers. Wild Onions did,but it featured sexist cover designs, espedally one issue which displayed a womanwith gigantic "onion" breasts. Chicagobased national magazines, like Poetry,printed twenty male writers for everywoman and favored established authorsliving on the East Coast.Primavera editors decided a publicationwas needed to encourage new writers andartists, provide a forum for Midwesterntalent, and give women writers the atten¬tion they deserved. Working on the staffwould also give women valuable practicalexperience in running a business. Unexpectedly, we editors also sharpened ourdebating skills in fighting for our favorite editors of Primaveramanuscripts.The Chicago Review, Poetry, and mostother magazines usually send a cold formletter when a manuscript is rejected. Incontrast, the Primavera staff writes indi¬vidual responses to inform each womanwhy her work was not accepted and to suggest revisions. Many writers who resubmitted their revised work have been published in the magazine. Others havewritten to thank us for our personal attention.However, Primavera doesn't always runsmoothly. Staff debates can erupt like vol¬canoes. Ann Bowler walked out of one turbulent meeting. At another, I threw anotebook at my nemesis,. Judith Fildes.Authors sometimes get angry with us fortaking months to respond to their submis¬sions. In 1975, our printer turned a graphic by Sara Burnham Mertz upside down. Shehasn't spoken to us since.But it's worth the agony. Various unknown authors who contributed work tothe five volumes of Primavera have goneon to publish books. For example, JanetBeeler, whose poetry appeared in VolumeII (1976), won the 1978 Devins Award fromthe University of Missouri Press for herfirst book. Primavera has received prizesin fiction from the Illinois Arts Council forprose by Shouri Daniels (Volume II) andAlice Wirth Gray (Volume IV).All staff members vote on policy deci¬sions and on manuscripts considered forpublication. No one has veto power. Pri¬mavera has attracted a wide variety of editors, including linguists, teachers, librarians, lawyers, administrative-assistantsand art historians. The staff has ranged inEditors Discuss Small PressContinued from p. 18Kaye: I'm going to ask Jonathan to defend himself now. I think that what he'sjust said needs to be argued with, becausein many ways it's a dissident opinion within the small press community. To assumethat you're strictly trying to give the pub¬lic pleasure is to avoid a very serious issue— that of the idea of an adversary culture,the idea of a literary underground. TheChicago Review has rejected fine storiesfrom big names simply because the staffthought that there were other people outthere who maybe were not great at thetime, but who could become great.Brent: I think that that's a very basicpoint. And I think that one of the real keysto it (at least in my own thinking) is that notrue adversary culture exists. Avant-garde writing is not truly adversary, in thesense that the chaos you see on the page, orthe intended challenge to all of your moralscruples, is not really challenging any¬thing.What you walk around with — or, what /walk around with — is that, God, this worldis a random place, Nixon is a crook, theVietnam War was horrible, murder happens on every street corner, nothing hasform — and how is that challenging me? Ifind much more challenging a story thatshows me some sense in the world. Andthis, of course, is my own personal taste,my own personal belief — and this is theway I select manuscripts. Other editorsmay feel entirely different. But l seriouslyquestion whether a truly adversary culture exists now in the way it existed in the'40s and '50s.Kaye: But you think an adversary cul ture genuinely existed, at one time?Brent: Absolutely.Erwin: This might be a good question todebate more publicly. Does anyone in theaudience have questions?Audience: Two things. One is: you'retalking about the lack of an adversary culture right now. I'm just wondering, isn'tthere also lack of a real literary culture?Brent: I think there is, if not a lack ofliterary culture, then a certain inadequacyin it. When you call an editor up (as I havebeen doing lately), trying to get publishersto advertise in TriQuarterly, you say,"Hello, I'm executive editor of TriQuarter-/ymagazine," and he says, "Who? What?""Well, we've just published your author . .. John Nichols." "John Nichols? Who isthat?" Now you see, the editors of publish¬ing houses don't know who they are pub¬lishing, they have no concept that youexist. They don't! They don't care.Monroe: Whose fault is that?Brent: It is their fault. It's the fault ofthe publishers, who do not care about liter¬ature.Cash: Or about their authors.Brent: Or about their authors!Cash: Their own authors.Brent: That's right! So where are you?There is an absence of literary culture, in ageneral mass way. Erwin: Mary, can you take any exception to that? In the last five years there hasbeen a strong increase in the number ofwomen who are writing and being pub¬lished; I can think of ten or twelve namesoffhand. Do you sense more of a communi¬ty among your readers?Cash: Well, there's a feminist communi¬ty; it's not necessarily a literary commu¬nity. There are women dedicated to feminism, with a group of feminist writers as asubgroup. I wouldn't say it's literary cul¬ture.But when you say there's an absence of aliterary culture, do you think there everwas one?Monroe: I think there was. Maybe this isjust so trite that we don't talk about it an¬ymore — but television and movies havemade inroads into the imaginative spherethat used to be served by literature, andmaybe, before that, by oral storytelling.It's not something we can easily do anything about. But in the ‘20s, there weremagazines like the Saturday Evening Post(take it for what it was) that had a circulation of over a million, cost five cents, andpublished stories, ran serials, and wasread — each edition, and then passed on, atbarbershops and so forth. There was areading public, then. And I think there is areading public now, but now people arereading things other than poetry and fic¬tion. Part of the reason is something that Ikeep coming back to: people feel, or think,for reasons whether true or false, that artides, nonfiction, have more to do withthem and their lives and their concernsthan fiction and poetry do. age from University of Chicago freshmento Hyde Park grandmothers. Many of oureditors have found full time jobs in publishing. Those of us who are finishing degrees in literature have sharpened ourcritical skills. Most of us are writers ourselves, and the staff has given us valuableencouragement in our work. In my owncase, the support of other women gave methe courage to start sending my poetry out.I have now published forty poems in different magazines.This support is crucial, because talentedwomen often have trouble taking tnemselves seriously — and they receive littleencouragement from the academic world.Most professors of literature and art history have never published anything but critical articles, and they feel threatened byliving writers and artists — though theyare quite comfortable with dead ones.Historically, women have often beentrapped into editing volumes written bymen, leaving the women little time fortheir own work. Even the best women writers are not taken seriously by many scholars. One U of C professor informed me thatJane Austen should not be taught here, because her novels "are at a high schoollevel." Another made fun of Sylvia Plath'suse of domestic imagery. Kary KilpatricWolfe, a Primavera editor, has preparedan answer for such scholarly nonsense.The Kitchen PoetWhy object to a poemFrom the kitchen?If the poet, a woman,After a hard day,Sits down, removing her apron.And can think of nothingBut dust that has transferredFrom her furniture and floorTo her,Of nothing butHow to remove the sink stainsMade by stacking dishesToo long and too high,Of all the ideasThat rising yeastAnd melting ice creamFulminateIn her mind,Why do we objectTo a knife and fork vision?(Copyright 1976 in Primavera;reprinted with the author'spermission.)The staff avoids political and literarybiases. Though manuscripts must demonstrate stylistic control and originality, norestrictions on subject matter or form areimposed. Primavera has printed everything from nature poems and elegies to asatire of the journalistic survey.Given the variety of women writers, whyshould Primavera have to publis.h men?No one tries to force Golf Digest to covertennis matches or suggests that the Journal of Reform Judaism should give extensive coverage to the Pope's visit. Writersfor the Chicago Maroon do not cover Princeton or Harvard. The University of Chi¬cago abounds in specialized publicationslike the Astrophysicai Journal, ClassicalPhilology, and the Journal of infectiousDiseases. Why should Primavera serveevery interest group?Recently Student Government hasslashed its budget allotment for Primavera. Finance Committee forgets thatprinting costs have more than doubledsince we published our first issue in 1975.Our magazine earns money through booksales and paid advertisements, it has alsoreceived grants from the CoordinatingCouncil of Literary Magazines and the National Endowment for the Arts. This maysound like a vast hoard of wealth, but infact it has barely kept pace with inflation.Primavera needs the continued support ofthe University community to surviveSubscriptions can be obtained for S3.90per issue from Primavera/ University ofChicago/ 1212 E. 59th St./ Chicago IL60637. For more information, call752 5655.The Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1?®0 — 19American Express hasn’t changed its application qualifi-cations for graduating students during the current credit crisis.That’s because the American Express'Card isn’t a creditcard. It’s a charge card. There’s no revolving, open-end credit.You are expected to pay your bill in full every month. So with theCard, you don’t get in over your head.You use your head.American Express is continuing its special applicationplan for graduating students. If you have a $10,000 job (or thepromise of one) lined up, you can apply for an American ExpressCard right now.to vacations, from buying clothes to buying theatre tickets.You’ll have new responsibilities after graduation. TheAmerican Express Card will help you manage them.. f' , To apply for a Card, just pick up an applicationat one of the displays on campus. Or you can call the toll 'AMERICANO; ■ • » t OvCREATION MINDa concert with theFriday, June 68 P.M.Donation: *4 BLUE GARGOYLE5655 S. 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Sun 12-5Students under 30 qet 10% offask for “Biq Jim” Student GovernmentREFRIGERATORRENTALPICK-UPIf you live in a dormitory watchfor posters with pickup date.If you live outside of dormitories,call the Student Govt, office bet¬ween 3 - 6 M - F.HarperCourtSports5225 South Harper363 3748 FOR SALE-RENT W/ OPTION orWhatever - Beautiful brick 4bdrm., brand new. White oak,pannelled cathedral ceiling,wood burning fireplace, largeoutside deck on your ownprivate lake! Builder gotcaught in money squeeze out¬skirts of Michigan City - S500per mo. $85,000 house 4 acre4 lots of clean, sunshine. CallCharlotte in Chicogo 493-6153or Rickey (219) 926-7128.HUDSON CO.Chesterton IndianaOnM^jTA\5AMV0dCHINESE-AMERICAtfRESTAURANTSpecializing inCANTONESE ANDAMERICAN DISHESOpen Daily11 AM to 8:30 PMClosed Monday1318 EAST 63rdMU 4-1062TheFLAMINGOand ( \B AN A ( LI B5SOO S. Shore l)ri\e• Studio and I Bedroom• Furnished and l nftirnished• l . of ( '.. Ini' «|op• t hitdoor Pool and t »arden.»• ('.ar|H‘tin« and Drape- ln< I.• Se« urit\• lni\er-in Sub>id\ forStudent- and Staff• I )elieate->en• Barber Shop• Keaulv Shop• J.B.IL Restaurant• Dentist• ValetFREKP.4RMMGM.Sn\derPL 2-3800The Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, tv80 — 21'——»: IN SPITE OF:•All the new building construction•A lot of noise•The distraction of tearing down walls.1The continual moving of thousands of booksWE'VE had a good year and wethank the University Communityfor their goodwill and the pleasurein serving them.Thank you.. Thank you.. Thank you,The University of ChicagoBookstore General Book Dept.,/// Ly////..A//22 The Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980Overcoming Cont.Hyde ParkContinued from p. 13cipline is unlikely to uncover such "an apparently mystic term" as Quality.Phaedrus finally finds a program ofstudy congenial to his inquiry, at the University of Chicago — a program in "Analysis of Ideas and Study of Methods". This isthe University of Robert Maynard Hutchins in the late 1940's where the study ofgreat Western thought is taken on withgreat energy and seriousness, amidst ableak urban environment. Here Phaedrusstudies Aristotle and Plato.The sessions on Aristotle were roundan enormous, wooden round table ina dreary room across the streetfrom a hospital, where the late af¬ternoon sun from over the hospitalroof hardly penetrated the windowdirt and polluted city air beyond.Wan and pale and depressing. Dur¬ing the middle of the hour he noticedthat this enormous table had a hugecrack that ran right across it nearthe middle. It looked as though it hadbeen there for many years but thatno one thought to repair it. Too busy,no doubt, with more importantthings.(pp.335)In his singular drive towards the "truth"of Quality, Phaedrus has heated confrontations with a number of priggish professors.Yet it's more likely that these confrontations are largely the product of his ownimagination, as he comes to see them asobstructing his increasingly obsessivemission. Phaedrus throws himself headlong into his studies, but not as an objectively inquiring student:He had no time or interest in otherpeople's Great Books. He was theresolely to write a Great Book of hisown.Phaedrus comes to believe that academicians since Aristotle have categorized andsynthesized into lifelessness the essence ofarete that Plato and the earlier sophistshad discussed and which Phaedrus recognizes as his "Quality". However, theseconclusions are based on rather unusualinterpretations of the classic texts.Phaedrus, the romantic Platonist, is defeated by the classical Aristotlean academic establishment. His obsession driveshim over the edge into madness. He is leftin a Chicago motel room, a burnt out catatonic, sitting in a pool of his urine, his cigarette burning into his hand, only to be resurrected after a visit to a mentalhospital.— Jeff CaneLetting GoLetting Go is Phillip Roth's no holdsbarred attempt to synthesize his Jewishneuroses, bitter sense of humor, Jamesiansensibilities and personal experiencesteaching at the Iowa writers' workshopand at the U. of C. The book is long, sprawling, uneven and often boring. It is as ifRoth's editors said to him "O.K., you'vejust won the National Book award forGoodbye Columbus, you're a celebrity,people are saying that you're the bestyoung author in America. Do what youwant — we won't change a word."Now, almost twenty years later, we'veseen how well Roth can write when he setshis mind to it. Ghost Writer, his most recent novel, is a succinct and masterful account of the problems confronting a youngJewish writer. After reading Ghost Writer,Letting Go is a 628 page crashing bore inneed of a ruthless editor.Still, Letting Go does have its interestingmoments. Most of them occur in HydePark — the old Hyde Park, when there wasaction on 55th Street. The book's funniestand most finely crafted scenes take placein Cobb Hall, where the protagonist, GabeWallach, a young English professor, occasionally stops in to teach a class and attendfaculty meetings:My colleagues drifted in, alone andin pairs. First — always first, with aclean pad of lined yellow paper and acartridge belt arrangement of shar pened pencils around his middle -Sam McDougall, a man whose dedication to the principles of grammercould actually cover you with sorrow. Sam had written a long work onthe history of punctuation, andthough he looked to be the world'sforemost authority on hayseed, hewas in fact one of its foremost authorities on the semicolon and thedash. A year ago he had unearthedtwo comma faults in an article ofmine in "Ameican Studies," andever since had chosen to sit next tome at staff meetings to show me thelight. . . Then entered Frank Tozier,about whose sexual persuasion l amto this day in doubt; and WalkerFriedland, our glamour boy, whojumped upon desks in the classroomwhenever he read Moby Dick.Walker had made honest men of usall by marrying a student with aspectacular pair of legs. We had allhung around, yawning, waiting forher to swell up with Walker Jr., but ayear had passed and now she was aslender sophomore, still locomotingherself with those legs, and Walkerwas probably swinging out over hisclass from the light fixture: he hadgotten away with it. He was a peppyand amusing fellow, rumored to beour most popular member — thoughit was rumored that I was myself alittle in contention, having been invited the previous year to partake oflunch once a week in the dining hallof one of the girl's dormitories."Mr. Wallach, do you really believe Thomas Wolfe is overwrit¬ten?""Mr. Wallach, don't you thinkFrannie is pregnant?" "Mr. Wal¬lach, someone said that you said inclass — " "Could you give a littletalk to the girls, Mr. Wallach?"There were two other bachelorsengaged in this baleful competition:Larry Morgan, a petulant young fellow who sported a beret and a cane,and our madman, Bill Lake. Bill hadbeen connected with the Universityof Chicago since before puberty;rumor had it that one day he hadbeen seen slipping a note to EnricoFermi — and from that it all began.In fact, Bill had been a Quiz Kid; Iremember him from my own youthas the one with the noseful, who wasalways converting a hundred andsixty four dollars and thirty twocents into its equivalent in francs,marks, lire and what have you. Now,wrapped in his red wool scarf, hestormed through the hallways leaking freshman compositions afterhim, bound for the sloppy smokeyhell of his office, where it was hispleasure to reduce coeds to tears because of their lifeless prose styles.Next came Bill's buddy, MonaMeyerling, a bull dyke. I'm afraid,but awfully sweet, though always alittle too anxious, I thought, to giveother people's cars a push with herMorris Minor.Trotting on the heels of Mona wasCyril Houghton, who had confided tome once that he had invented mostof the footnotes in his dissertation,which nevertheless was reputed, byCyril, to be the last word on the poet,Barnaby Googe. Also our New Critic, Victor Honingfeld, forever off toBreadloaf or the Indiana School ofLetters, forever flashing at me rejection slips signed in John CroweRansom's own hand. And our OldCritic - our tired critic — the victim(willingly, I believe) of two opinionated wives and college politics, gentle Ben Harnap. Next was Swanson, ablond, wide faced boy from Minnesota who had a blond, wide facedwife from Minnesota. He had beenhired at the same time as I, and obviously some kind of scale balancingwas supposed to be going on . . .Teaching is a noble profession with anoble history, and it may simply bethat we are living through a slacktime."Slack" is the word.— Faye Isserow Landes Continued from p. 8when I least expect them, at a kind word,a touch, or a movement. My sexualmotivations are mysterious andwondrous, gifts to enjoy. If they must beexplained, it seems far simpler to relatesensory stimuli to remembered bodilypleasure than to an inverted experienceof pain, as would Kronemeyer.No. My heterosexual and homosexuallife are one, my love has been the same,and "what I do in bed" has beenremarkably similar no matter what thesex of my partner: play like kids, lickand suck, slap and tickle, and breathedeeply and rhythmically. Kronemeyer'scondemnation of non genital sexualityreveals his inability to accept oralsexuality as a vital component of totalhuman sexual experience, not acomponent that one abandons with"maturity".There is something else being defendedhere besides genital heterosexuality:patriarchy, the domination of women(and the young) by men, and gender-roleindoctrination, the method by which thatdomination is enforced. Kronemeyerrepeatedly tells women that they mustdevote themselves primarily to theirchildren for the first five years of life,even though "most" women are neuroticand unfit for the challenge. In discussingthe experience of young gay males,Kronemeyer notices thathomosexuals may becircumstantially "different" fromtheir peers. In therapy, manymales recall being assailed as"sissies"; they loathed theroughhousing of athletics and wereridiculed and humiliated on theplaying field . . . Such experiencesonly served to reinforce theirtimidity and effeminacy anddisinclination towards malebonding activities . . . Feelinginadequate is merely the fruition ofnegative programming about one's"maleness" and ability to compete.The gender role issues which are avoidedhere are legion. Kronemeyer fails to notethat gentle boys reject their peers beforethey are themselves rejected. We areridiculed because we do not choose tocompete in the same way, we do notchoose to bond with males againstfemales, we do not choose to becomeindoctrinated in the culture of violencemen are taught, and we know we areright. We are humiliated for ourgentleness, not our sexuality. And why is"ability to compete" an aspect of"maleness"? Granted, feelings ofinadequacy can result from negativeprogramming, but who gets morenegative feedback in this society thanyoung girls? Why does Kronemeyernever question this, or wonder why theword "sissy" is an insult?Kronemeyer underlines his belief thatinability to conform to masculine normsis a sign of neurosis in speaking of hisown experience in college:I had to struggle with my fears andself doubts in order to succeed inmy studies and in athletics andwith my classmates and even inmy embryonic sex life.Fortunately, a number of the girls(sic) in the community were moreliberated than I, and that helpedsome.The goal is not to be a good human being,but to succeed in competition for grades,status, and sex. Kronemeyer's struggle toovercome that which prevents him fromfully dominating his fellow humans isfamiliar — and revolting. His grasp ofthe truth that he had become "pervertedby feelings of fear and hostility . . .inwardly self destroying and outwardlydissembling" is itself perverted by his conforming to a mistaken model of malehumanity. Here too, the "humanpotential movement", of whichKronemeyer is a part, can be seen at itsworst, reforming people to fit theunquestioned status quo, making them"feel responsible for their ownhappiness" so that no one else'shappiness — or oppression — need be aconcern.Kronemeyer's therapeutic methodseeks to put his patients back in touchwith the "Life Energy" they knew asinfants by reenacting infantile emotionsuntil old hurts are exorcised; oncereconnected, people will choose healthful,not self punishing behaviors. Kronemeyerindeed helps people work through theirself defeating habits, as shown in his casehistories — compulsions disappear, theability to love and trust is strengthened,fears diminish. However, the closer thepatient conforms to straight whitemiddle-class values and behavior, thehappier he or she is judged to be. When aperson is in touch with the "LifeEnergy", it seems odd that only sociallyapproved, conformist behavior willresult.Kronemeyer gets his high "cure" rate(remember, the percentage he citesincludes only patients deeply motivatedto change who underwent 40 100 therapysessions and who were "aware that theywere not fulfilling their human potential”— meaning they had been convinced of ai direct association of their self defeating| behaviors with homosexuality) becausej he programs his patients with his theoryi when they are primed to listen,j Kronemeyer reduces his patients to aI non verbal state (getting them to scream: into a towel, for instance) but remainsi calm and verbal himself, maintaining: manipulative distance. As Kronemeyer* comments, expressing rage and sadnessI through the "language of sound" can! loosen a great many blocked emotions. ItI also makes the patient extremelysuggestible. Another therapist, who didi not (as does Kronemeyer in a session hej transcribes) use the moment of catharsis! to push aj "fear and hostility/blame the mother"| theory of homosexuality could help thei patient let go of self defeating behaviors, without affecting sexual orientation.It is not difficult to change sexuali orientation if one desires, so it is not! surprising that some people do change in! therapy. Among my friends are severalI who have been gay and became sexuallyj involved with members of the oppositesex (always freely, without theintervention of a therapist) and manymore who have moved in the otherdirection. I changed myself. In fact,Kronemeyer's description of the processof change is very familiar — self hatredassociated with homosexuality andfeelings of inferiority, learning to cry andexpress rage, a growing sense of peaceand faith, and the ultimate discovery ofself-love, curing forever the depths ofself pity. But in my case, this allhappened during the year I turned fromheterosexuality to homosexuality, not theother way around.Kronemeyer's book contains some goodsections, including a strong chapterdefending gay rights, tips on health, andthe therapy itself, practiced alone or witha supportive therapist. Despite this,because of its distorted vision ofsexuality, homosexuality, and sexualpolitics, I cannot recommend the book toanyone. I cannot disprove Kronemeyer'sbeliefs, and I applaud his emphasis onexperience, for it is only through sharingour experiences that we can graduallycome to know the truth abouthomosexuality. However, the debate isnot helped by dogmatic assertion, nor byinsisting on seeing the issue only in"socioscientific" terms while ignoring itshuman — and political — importance.The Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980 — 23An Interview with Tess Gallagherby Molly McQuadeTess Gallagher is considered by many tobe one of the best of the younger poets. Herfirst book, Instructions to the Double, wonthe Elliston Book Award. Under Stars, hersecond, was given the Voertman Award bythe Texas Institute of Letters. Gallagherhas also published widely in magazines,and has written occasional columns for theAmerican Poetry Review. She spent thepast year teaching at the University of Ari¬zona in Tucson, and will move to SyracuseUniversity in the fall.At the invitation of the Chicago Review,Gallagher came to Hyde Park in May toread from her poems. During her reading,which took place in the Bergman Gallery,she also sang several unaccompanied Irishsongs.McQ: First I'd like to ask a few questionsabout your recent essay in the Atlantic("The Poem as Time Machine"). Thereyou wrote about the expansion of the "I" inpoetry — about how "poetic monologueswith vast interiors" are no longer interesting. You gave examples of poets who haveaddressed other "selves" (whether created entirely by the poets or not), as if therewere a great intimacy between theseothers and their own selves. But when doesthe "I" become the "you," the "other," ina poem? When do you know that it has?Gallagher: There's just a process of dis¬tancing that happens, where you know thatyou're writing through the self, and yet it'smore than the self. You adopt what'scalled the persona. This persona, the "I,"is very confusing in contemporary Ameri¬can poetry, because it seems as thoughyou're getting life facts from the writerwhen in fact it's still — even though it's an"I" — an invented self which comes acrossin the poems.McQ: It seems that there can be manydifferent invented selves. I'm wonderingabout their variety, and about the dif¬ferences between them. In your poemabout your father ("3 A.M. Kitchen: MyFather Talking"), although it's so much inhis voice, and so different from your otherpoems, it shows something about yourself,too. Other poems, that aren't as obviouslyin another voice, are also revealing. Butwhen you're thinking of writing a poem,there is so much leeway in the kinds ofother selves you can become.Gallagher: Right. That's what's reallyinteresting to me — to explore as manyaspects of "yourself as other" as possible,so that you're not just playing one chord allthe time. You're finding all the intricaciesof what's possible for you in an epitheticway with other parts of yourself that youfind in other people.McQ: Have you written other poems likethe father poem, in which you've made aconscious choice to take on someone else'svoice? .Gallagher: Sometimes that happens in amythic sense in the poems. "From Dreadin the Eyes of Horses" has a voice which isnot a personal voice, really — and in thatsense, I take on another voice. "Ritual ofMemories" has, again, a mythic voice —the voice of a gypsy I imagine. There aredream voices, as in "Kidnapper." (It has akind of persona. The 'I" in it is a personwho's being kidnapped.) There's a newpoem, "Second Sleep," in which I take thevoice of a woman who has what other peo¬ple would look on as a destructive relation¬ship with a man. The poem is her telling ofthis to a friend after not having seen herfor years. That's an adopted voice; Ihaven't lived that life. But I'm imaginingit. Some of the poems are really narra¬tives, in which l assume the role of a char¬acter.McQ: Also in the Atlantic essay, you talkabout poems forcing poets and theirreaders to remember important thingsthat they may have forgotten, "reinvolv¬ ing" them in the flux of time. Could you tellme about one of your poems which doesthis, and tell me how you think it works?What did you remember when you wroteit, and how did remembering changeyou?Gallagher: It happens in almost all thepoems I write. There's some instance of itin "Some With Wings, Some With Manes."At one point a kite is seen in a tree, and thekite is caught there. I have a memory, inmy childhood, of walking home and ofevery day looking up and seeing this kitethat was caught in a tree. Then one day Ilooked and it was gone. Years later, thekite has become a metaphor for somethingTess GallagherI see in a woman's life. I've left the kitebehind, yet it still, as an image, has anemotive power for me. I bring it to a newsituation, and it helps the new situation become articulate in a new way.Also, the workhorse, Dolly, comes intothe poem. Dolly was in my childhood. Shecomes into the woman's name — thewoman is called Dolly.McQ: Was that the horse you wanted tobe? (In the Atlantic, Gallagher recalledthe times she spent as a child "standingsilhouetted on the highest knoll, pawingwith one foot, tossing my thick pony maneand neighing . .. with such authority that areal horse pastured down the block beganto answer me.")Gallagher: No, that horse happened be fore I ever met Dolly. I didn't have a horsewhen that happened. I just had the imagination "horse"; it wasn't connected to anyspecific horse.McQ: You studied with TheodoreRoethke, and you've written that you felt asense of "awe" and "privilege" as his student because of his "seriousness about po¬etry." But how did his seriousness show itself? How did he teach?Gallagher: Well, people come at thingswith a certain mood. I think I was talkingabout his mood, his presence. When hewent into a poem (he read to us a lot), hisattitude was very evident in the way heread — with a respect, an intensity, andwith attention to the music of the poem. Heread with a focus that made you know thiswas the most important thing going on atthe moment. There was nothing more im¬portant.He also had a brooding quality. Youknew that he had been thinking a lot aboutwhat he was going to give to you, but not inany very organized way. He was neververy organized in class. In fact, he wasquite unprepared. You had the feeling hehad been brooding about the activity ofteaching. He made us memorize quite a lotof poetry.McQ: That seems like a very good idea.Gallagher: Yeah. I was talking to RobertPenn Warren — he came to read at Tucson — and he said he thought it was a shamethat history was not being taught any¬more. He said that history is the record ofthe complication of the soul. I think thatpoetry is similarly that. So it's a shamethat nobody is asked to remember anything anymore.McQ: Did Roethke influence you in anyway you can think of?Gallagher: The musical part of it wasvery strong. And as I say, his dedication.When you start off with someone who'sthat dedicated, it really affects you verydeeply, and you tend to want to approxi¬mate his dedication. This can be deadly, ifyou don't have all the talents for assumingdedication and yet you take on the emotional aspect of it, and judge yourself andyour life according to whether you attainit.McQ: Did you also study with MarkStrand?Gallagher: Yes.McQ: What was that like?Gallagher: It was great! It was a turning-point in my writing. He had a sparseness of language, and a clarity, that wasreally a great aid to me. I was writingthese layer cake poems that were so overloaded with image and intensity that everything was choked out. He helped mefind the melody line in poems. I could suddenly shed all kinds of embellishments andparaphernalia in the poem and get downright to the center. He also encouraged meto leave the Northwest and go to Iowa City,and meet other writers from around thecountry.McQ: Do you remember poems youwrote as a child, and what began them?You've written that the woods around yourparent's logging sites were very importantto you. What were they like? Did they haveany part of what you first began writingabout?Gallagher: Well, one of the early memories of a poem I have is about going deerhunting with my father in those woods. Iwrote it while I was in Roethke's class. Itwas about how we would go out and sit on astump and just wait for the deer to come tous. He had this idea that you didn't go looking for the deer, but that if you sat still thedeer would come to you. You'd sit in aclearing and be very still — and sureenough, the deer would come into theclearing.I have used bits and pieces of that expe¬rience of growing up in the logging campsin poems. In "Complicity" I talk about theclearings my father made, and about hisrigging the spar tree. The sound of chainsaws gets into poems like "Black Money."But it's more an undercurrent than an ob¬vious thing.McQ: Did you write much before youstudied with Roethke.Gallagher: I did, but in a very adolescentway. I was called "the class poet." I wouldwrite these poems, and I worked for thehigh school newspaper, and I would usemy own poems as filler. I don't think theywere very good. They had titles like"Youth" and "Life."McQ: What was your family like, andwhat did your parents expect of you?Gallagher: My family? I'm a kind ofenigma to them. They don't understandhow I "happened" the way I did. For along time they were very worried aboutme, because I came out of a marriagewhich they considered a perfectly goodone, and went to write poetry. I sort of . . .gave up everything to write poetry. Thisseemed mad to them. The only thing whichhas allowed them to relax a little bit withContinued on p. 2724 The Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980Living in the World, and Leaving ItA Draft of Shadowsby Octavio Pazedited by Eliot WeinbergerNew Directionsby Susan Gwen TurkIn Eliot Weinberg's edition of A Draft ofShadows, the essence of Octavio Paz's artis preserved despite translation to Englishfrom Spanish, Paz's language. The translations done by Elizabeth Bishop and MarkStrand as well as by Weinberger, stand ontheir own. But if the reader has a rudimentary background in Spanish, checking theoriginal versions, offered alongside theEnglish, will enrich his appreciation of thepoetry.Who is Paz? A Mexican poet, critic andanthropologist who served as Mexico'sambassador to India for several years. In1968 he resigned from that post and exiledhimself to Europe in protest over his government's massacre of student demonstrators in Mexico City just prior to thesummer Olympics. Returning to Mexico in1971, he was devastated by the economicand social upheaval the country was thenexperiencing.Some of Paz's poems reflect his politicalconcerns and his sense of outrage at theeconomic exploitation suffered by hiscountrymen. His long poem "Vuelta"("Return") is an elegy for a homelandthat is no longer a paradise, for a homeland where"They have branded the cityon every dooron every forheadthe S sign"Another long poem, "Petrificadapetrificante" ("The petrifying petrified")is so full of carnage, gore andscatological language that the poet'sanguish and grief bleed off the page. Mexico's harsh treatment of politicaldissidents inspired Paz to present themas "The Crucified" and Mexico as"Shadeadland cacideous nopalopolisbonestony dushty mockedmire." Thepoem reflects the passion of a man wholoves his country not its ruling class andthe class's adherents. And so he writes:"The library is a nest of killer ratsThe university is a muck full offrogsThe juggling ideologistsharpener of sophismsin his house of truncated quotationsand assignationsplots Edens for industrious eunuchsforest of gallows paradise ofcages. . .future jailers present leechesaffront the living body of time We have dug up RageBut he ends the poem with opposingimages of bitter and sweet water,yearning for the sweet which will quenchhis thirst and his anger and will offer himpeace of mind. The conflict of a peoplewith its government is transformed intoPaz's own internal struggle withlanguage and the depths of his soul. He isobsessed with the problems that poetryinflicts on him.In "Nocturno de San lldefonsc" Pazpivots between invective assaults aimedat homocidal governments ana queriesabout the nature of poetry. One wondersif he is truly concerned with the politicsof tyranny or it it is just a metaphor forthe hold creativity has on him. He ishaunted by nighmarish images of"burning alphabets" and by the fleeting-satisfaction of poetic creation. But heresolves to write all the same, "to giveeyes to the language," because, "Poetryis not truth: it is the resurrection ofpresences, history transfigured in thetruth of undated time."The title poem, "Pasado en claro" ("Adraft of shadows"), is a calculatedresponse to Wordworth's "The Prelude,or Growth of a Poet's Mind." LikeWordworth's poem, it isautobiographical, treating the progress ofPaz's development as a writer, from hisfirst mental wranglings to his ultimateacceptance of his calling: "I writebecause the druid. . gave me. . . thespell that makes words flow from stone."But the poem culminates in anapocalyptic vision of the end of time andthe dissolution of language typified by thefollowing passage.The way out, perhaps, is toward withinThe purgation of language, historyconsuming itselfin the dissolution of pronouns.Paz's conflict with himself and thehistorical moment finds resolution in aMahayana Buddhist outlook. He refers toit in several poems as Prajnaparamita,the perfection of wisdom, the body ofBuddhist literature which revolvesaround the concept of sunyata, oremptiness. Sunyata considers all humanaspirations, even those for moral andspiritual advancement, vain. For theadvocate of sunyata, nothing ispermanent or absolute; all things are inprocess. There are no boundaries ordistinctions between oneself andperceived phenomena. The categories ofsubject and object are meaningless.Indeed, all names, categories anddefinitions are illusory because alt thingsare in constant transformation.Sunyata has been mistaken for aphilosophy of cynical renunciation, but itis really a philosophy which encouragespassionate involvement in the world. Theindividual is considered to be at one withthe world. One can't escape life — andaccepting sunyata does not justifywithdrawal. It simply intensifies one'sawareness of the fruitlessness of conflict.And since Paz's poetry is inspired byconflict, he echoes the Prajnaparamitasutras when he writes.the poemis the air that sculpts itself and dissolves,a fleeting allegory of true names.Even his poetry is transitory, althoughContinued on p. 27Minding the UniverseNews of the Universepoems of twofold consciousnesschosen by Robert BlySierra C' jp Booksby Ron GagnonAnthologies are strange creations.Wholly predictable, unflagginglyconservative, unvariably annotated todistraction, they seem contrived only forconvenient storage. It is with good reasonthat the purist regards the anthology withsuspicion or disdain: the essentialconcerns of the artist are subordinated tothe needs of the dilettante. Poets whohave absolutely nothing in commonbeyond the language in which they write,or the century in which they live, arerechristened as cultural siblings in theanthology and offered up for superficialcomparison.In this state of affairs, the appearanceof Robert Bly's new anthology for SierraClub Books comes as a surprise and awelcome relief. News Of The Universe isa beautiful example of what an anthologymay accomplish when given a purposebeyond roll call. News Of The Universetakes as its theme a single idea, and tothis idea each of the included workscontributes definition and shape. Blyestablishes this idea through phrasingand rephrasing by many different voices.He uses the anthological mode to producea sonorous volume of resonance andsupport. This enables him to be heardthrough the thick walls of traditionalliterary conceptions.The strong harmonic organization ofNews of the Universe is necessary,because its central idea is sounconventional. It suggests in effect thatthe universe has news for us, which isthat it, too, has consciousness, and that itcan speak to us in a language we understand. It is a difficult notion tohandle; but Bly manages it withadmirable dexterity. His remarksprefacing ach section of the anthologyorchestrate a multi lingual, trans-culturaltumult into a program of commandperformances. He works miracles in theaffinities he reveals between poets asdissimiliar as Friedrich Holderlin andRobert Frost, Pablo Neruda and RainerMaria Rilke.Th idea of twofold consciousnessreceived its strongest and most concertedformulation in the eighteenth century, inthe work of Novalis, Holderlin, andGoethe. Bly traces it through 19th andearly 20th century figures to thepresent day interests of Denise Levertov,Gary Snyder, Kinnell, Stafford, Gluck,and others. The notion has met withprolonged and at times fierce opposition,and Bly attempts not so much todiscredit that opposition as to reveal itscomparative poverty and its retreat froma much wider sensibility. Sometimes thisis a pleasant task, as when Bly quotes theFrench priest Bossuet:May the earth be cursed, may theearth be cursed, a thousand timesbe cursed because from it thatheavy fog and those black vaporscontinually rise that ascend fromthe dark passions and hide heavenand its light from us . . .At other times it seems to open oldwounds:Ah, love, let us be trueTo one another! for the worldwhich seemsTo lie before us like a land ofdreams,So various, so beautiful, so new, Hath really neither joy, nor love,nor light,Nor certitude, nor peace, nor helpfor pain;The vivid intelligence of Bly's discussionof consciousness and his deftness with itsponderous issues is a mark of his longinvolvement with the question. He feelsmost strongly the point of Gerard deNerval's accusation "When you gather toplan, the universe is not there." For Bly,the proper stance toward nature iscrucial to modern concerns for ecology,territorial sovereignty, even women'srights.This last is especially importantbecause Bly shows again and again thatthe rationalists' fear of mother earthdetermines their attitude toward women:. . . everything outside humanreason is wet, vaginal, ugly, full ofstupidity and night. Nature is a wetcave where death lives.Bly's point is that as long as the responseto this fear is to conquer and imprisonnature, the same will hold true forwomen.Bly's presentation is certainly open tocriticism. Some of his arguments arevastly oversimplified; others are unfair(his attack on Swift, for instance). Thereis also a very real danger in his fast andloose handling of subjects warrantiinggreater attention. But Bly's responsecould be simply an irascible "Forget allthat. Let the poems speak."One poem by Rilke, which appearsalong with many others iin newtranslation, speaks so well for Bly itcould double as his central idea. It istaken from Rilke's early Studenbuch, andit talks about a process of broadening discovery and comprehension:I live my life in growing orbits,whih move out over the things ofthe world.Perhaps I can never achieve thelast,but that will be my attempt.I am circling around God, aroundthe ancient tower,and I have been circling for athousand years.And I still don't know if I am afalcon,Or a storm, or a great song.it is a fascinating poem. The movementis both centrifugal and centripetal,balanced between great certainty andnone. Rilke establishes a powerfuldynamic but refuses to commit himself toone purpose or form.Bly, also, is wary of definition. Ofconsciousness he says, "What we aretalking of falls between all the words inEnglish. What is inside a cottonwoodgrove or a hill is not exactlyconsciousness, nor psyche, nrointelligence, nor sentience." Bly'sposition in News Of The Universe isidentical to Rilke's: he is looking forsomething that may not even have aground or a word he can settle upon. Itmay be there in the suspension betweenword and object, like Rilke's falcon,balanced between ground and sky. Blycircles through the poetry of the lastthree hundred years asking "one questionover and over: how much consciousnessis the poet willing to grant to trees orhills or living creatures not a part of hisown species?" The great clamor hereceives in answer is, he might purr,"Good news."The Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980 — 25I^titankly.he didn'tThe Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980Tess GallagherContinued from p. 24rny life is that I haven't starved or had toask them for money.We were raised to be very self sufficient.I was earning all my own money by thetime I was thirteen years old. I bought allmy clothes, and paid for anything I needed. Then I left home for Seattle when I wasseventeen. We were raised in a Protestantwork ethic family, in spite of the nameGallagher — my father's name wasBond.They really expected me to work veryhard physically when I was a child — to do a lot of garden work We had a huge garden, and we lived out of it. And I worked inthe fields during the summer to earnmoney for the next school year, so that mypart of the family budget was in. They believed that we should know somethingmore than what was in books. They hadboth come from farm families, so they hada farm, and we worked there, and each ofus, five children, had something we werein charge of. I was in charge of rabbits anda calf. I had to bucket feed the calf; I hadto milk the cows. I remember my childhood as being filled with chores. The moments away from the house, when weplayed, were very precious.McQ: You've lived in various places — aShadowsContinued from p. 25poetry is the means by which Pazescapes the illusions of the world andachieves the clarity he seeks. So hispassion is tempered by an uneasyreconciliation with the inevitability oftragedy. On the one hand, he writesabout what is immediate in his world —the urgent problems of Mexico — andintertwines it with bits of Mexicanmythology. On the other hand, he writesabout his personal existential dilemma,which works itself out through images ofIndia and the Buddha. Some poems areconcerned with human relationships,especially erotic ones, and are writtenwith an earthy enthusiasm. But theoverwhelming majority of the poems areanything but carnal — saturated, as theyare, with BuddhLt philosphy.One short poem, "Un despertar"("Waking"), concisely summarizes Paz'spreoccupations. It concerns time, apointless barrier between himself andreality that walls him up in a dream. The poem relates an "out of the body"experience in which Paz discovers that,"Being in its fullness is quiet." He findshis own room empty, but awakens to areality which is full, where "Evenwithout us, being lacks nothing." Thestars even disappear, leaving spacevacant, a perfect Buddhist apocalypse.The last poem in the collection, "EsteLado" ("This side"), reiterates Paz'sthoughts. The world is all shadows. Evenlight is illusory, clarity a vain hope. Butthere is light on "the other side," a kindof alternate reality where all isemptiness and where boundariesdissolve. All the senses merge, and peaceis found at last.There is light. We neither see nortouch it.In its empty clarities restswhat we touch and see.I see with my fingertipswhat my eyes touch:shadows, the worldWith shadows I draw worlds,I scatter worlds with shadows.I hear the light beat on the otherside.*I FOSTER 0. CHANOCK, BA/MA 74Who loved this UniversityNovember 6,1952 May 31,1980Memorial Gathering2:00 p.m., Saturday, June 7Cedar Lane Unitarian ChurchBethesda, Maryland^amingoCABANA CLUB SHOD'. MED SPECIALFUJICOLOR400SI 400 Film24 exposures 1.49regular 3.2936 exposures 1,99regular 4.19Coupon expires June 11,1980 with this ad onlymmm membership mm1342 East 55th St.493-6700v ^ w ^— 1 v* •• 1 *•.? / 3.. v" ..*• rti** AS j Quiet/restful Country Club atmosphere|l • Private cabanas available, • - ■ Jl| • Olympic-size heated Swimming Poolj^f Phone Mrs. Snyder PLaxa 2-3800L $ tanviftSO5500 South Shore DrivePLaza 2-3800 cabin in the Northwest, Ireland; El Paso.How has living in these places affected theway you write, and what you write about?Were some situations more fruitful thanothers?Gallagher; I hated to leave that cabin,mainly because it was near water. I findthat I really like having a view of water. Iwrote some of my best things in UnderStars near water, and I seem to need to locate near a lake, or ... I was near an oceanwhen I wrote "The Ritual of Memories." Ithas a really beyond this life quality, and Ithink I got that from looking at the ocean.When you're looking every day at anocean, it affects you. McQ: Or at mountains.Gallagher: Or at mountains. But light onwater seems to be something I need. Andthe passing of boats — I've had that all mylife, because the house that I grew up inoverlooked straits, and there were alwaysthese tankers going back and forth in thewater. You had this sense of life out there,and these were the emblems of it.McQ: What was Ireland like?Gallagher: In ten words or less? Well, Igot a lot of mythic elements from it because of the songs and the romantic attitudes the songs preserve — a kind of steadContinued on p. 30tyj/ictr/cU/e / (Jux/sssh. ^/ // / fijafe r6d .1638 East 55th Street 495-0666UNBEL1EYABLE! SI 4,900 for 24 room co-op apt near 59th & HarfM-r. See today.PERSONALITY HOUSE - B rick 6 room Tri-level Townhouse - Central air - noassessment* * free parking - near 55 Cornell. S75,000.YOIU A! Open up a kitchen wall and you have a super spacious “country air" oneBedroom apt. Inside parking goes with this. 5401 Hyde Park. $48,000.“TREE HOUSE APARTMENT” I .arge private hack porch makes this voursummer delight and what a location! 56th Harper condo - large “country kitchen -handsome dining room Buffet stays Because it"* a true Built in - Everything Tip-Top condition. Historic Building excellent. $69.5(X).PRICE REDUCED to $49,000. Condo 3 Bedroom 1 4 Bath near 55th & Hyde ParkBlvd. Hurry.NARRAGANSETT - near 50th and Chicago Beach woodhuming fireplace - viewsin all 4 directions. 2 Bdnn. 2 Bath - Sept, possession. Price in $70’s.NEAR HARPER AYE. & Park PI., Tri-level (“E” plan) Townhouse. 8 rooms$112,000.A SMALL D<)LLHOUSE...$72,500. Near 55th and Dorchester. 7 rooms, 2 baths.Nice garden - double storage Bldg in rear.OVER 2800 Sq. Ft. (That’s Bigger than a lot of houses) Eight room condo. Sunshineand spaciousness - master bedroom (huge) has double closets - study in Teakwood -three baths Excellent modem kitchen AND AIR CONDITIONED. Over 2800 sq. ft.Hyde Park Blvd. $93,500.HIGH UP gives you citv views and lakefront views. 4800 Chicago Beach. Ownerwilling to talk “creative financing". 2 Bedrooms, 2 Baths - well maintained. $76,000.57 K1MBARK - We have a first floor at $57,000 and a third floor (with superkitchen for $68,500. Y ou ought to see Both.SOUTHEAST OF CAMPUS New listing 14 Blocks near 73 Paxton - a “Highlands'*type. Big. nine room Brick - panelled Bsmt - nice kitchen 34 Baths $85,000.Note; If e are “Co-ofte rating" brokers. Any registered broker is welcome itpsell these listings, (.all your favorite broker f \f e ho/te that s l s).•8— +••• «... t—Course Topicslanguages: FORTRAN, PL/C COBOL. BAL,Statistical Packages, List ProcessingOperating SystemsComputational Linear AlgebraData StructuresStructured ProgrammingAlgorithms and ComputabilityAutomata TheoryNumerical AnalysisFacilities: IBM 170/158-MVS with CRT access usingWYLBUR text editing available to all students atno additional chargeTuition & Approximately SI TO per course tor Illinois residentsFees: plus S21 health tee unless already insuredAdmission: Bachelor s degree and appropriate backgroundSeveral kinds of financial aid are availableTo obtain information contact .Neil RickertDepartment ot MathematicsUniversity of Illinois at Chicago CircleBox 4148Chicago, It bObttO<312)996-1041UNIVERSITYOF ILLINOISATCHICAGOCIRCLEM Department ot Mathematicsoffers a professionalconcentration inComputer Mathematicsleading to aMaster of Science♦ Day or evening programsC lasses for Fall Quarterbegin September 22Registration September 17-18~*a— a—a—♦•••«The Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980 INI♦IIttINI♦(IsIy6«vt fe'Jftitly itVdi1*11. IH II. I I ■ (■■■■HYDE PARK YMCA DAY CAMPJune 16 to August 22 1980AGES 6-13REGULAR CAMP$ 65.00 — Y Members$ 70 00 — Non Members$ 95 00 — Y Members$105.00 — Non Members$ 95.00 — Y Members$105 00 — Non Members$ 65.00 — Y Members$ 70.00 — Non Members 1 st Session(2 week session)2nd Session(3 week session)3rd Session(3 week session)4th Session(2 week session) PIXIE CAMPAGES 4 and 5$55.00—Y Members$60.00—Non Members$80.00—Y Members$90.00—Non Members$80.00—Y Members$90.00—Non Members$55.00—Y Members$60.00—Non MembersActivities are conducted in the Palos Park Forest Preserve and the YMCAand include Crafts, Nature Lore, Campcraft, Games, Cookouts, Group Singing,Hiking, and four days of Swimming Instruction each week.Bus service at established stops through the area.Hyde Park YMCA1400 E. 53rd StreetChicago, Illinois 60615(312)-324-5300 ACCREDITEDCAMP t=zHr—i'0 SPECIAL DISCOUNT PRICESfor all STUDENTS andFACULTY MEMBERSJust present your University of Chicago IdentificationCard. As Students or Faculty Members you are entitledto special money-saving DISCOUNTS on ChevroletParts, Accessories and any new or used Chevrolet youbuy from Ruby Chevrolet.GM QUALITYttS'l save* PARTSGENUAL MOTORS PARTS DIVISIONKeep That Great GM her Imp K ith Gt Si l.\h. GM Tarts"72nd & Stony Island(—{ Open Evenings and Sunday 684-0400Parts Open Sat. 'til noon72nd & Stony IslandOpen Evenings and Sundays 684-0400Ports Open Sat. 'til noon2 Miles - 5 Minutes AwayFrom The UNIVERSITYSPECIAL DISCOUNT PRICESfor all STUDENTS andFACULTY MEMBERSJust present your University of Chicago IdentificationCard. As Students or Faculty Members you are entitledto special money-saving DISCOUNTS on VolkswagenParts, Accessories and any new or used Volkswagenyou buy from Ruby VolkswagenThere’s aNew Hilton in yourNeighborhood.The Hyde Park Hilton.Spokesmen Bicycle ShopjO 8301 Hyde Park Blvd.jf Selling Quality ImportedY\ \ ^ A Bikes.$3 Raliegh, Peugeot, Fuii,Motobecane, Windsor\ And a fall Inventory\ of M0PBD8J 1 Open 10-7 M-F, 10-5 Sat.j 11-4 Sun Rollerskates for084-3737 Sale or Rent.28 — The Ch\ca_w Uterary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980 VERSAILLES5254 S. DorchesterWELL MAINTAINEDBUILDINGAttractive 1 ‘/t and2V2 Room StudiosFurnished or Unfurnished$218to$320Based on AvailabilityAt Campus Bus Stop324-0200 Mrs. Croak Your new neighbor, the Hyde ParkHilton, is ideally located on the lake at 50thStreet; for business-or pleasure; meetingsor banquets; out of town guests or a week¬end on the town for you.Spacious, comfortable rooms, finecuisine in the Chartwell House, and casualdining in the Laurel Cafe, large pool andpatio, free parking... everything you’d ex¬pect from a Hilton, right in your backyard./For information and reservationscall: 288-5800... it’s a very local call.X HYDE PARK HILTON4900 South Lake Shore Drive Chicago II 60615 MITVendler:By Catherine MoulyReviewing Helen Vendler's latest bookis a little like holding a mirror to amirror, since Part of Nature, Part of Usis itself a collection of reviews aboutother books, some of which are, in fact,appraisals of still other books. Luckilyfor us, however, Part of Nature, Part ofUs is a much more solid achievementthan such a description might at firstimply. Far from the vagueness orincoherence which might be the result ofsuch a seemingly loose approach in lesssure hands, this book sharply focuses onthe individual facets of modern poetrywhich the multiple perspective ofVendler's collection discovers for us as,in her own words, she considers poets"one by one, to find in each theidiosyncratic voice wonderfully differentfrom any other."Part of Nature, Part of Us is acollection of reviews, essays, and articlesculled from such eclectic sources as TheNew York Times Book Review,Salamagundi and The New Republic, andspanning the past ten years in Vendler'scareer as literary scholar and reviewer.The essays are organized by poet in aloosely chronolgical order, starting withWallace Stevens and ending with a groupreview of ten books published in 1977, butthough this could well be characterizedas a subjective overview of Americanpoetry, it is by no means meant as ahistory of its development. The historicalframework serves rather as a flexiblestructure within which Vendler toucheson various aspects of some forty poets,from T.S. Eliot to C.K. Williams.The format shows itself to be singularlyappropriate both to the complexity andvariety of modern poetry and the stanceshe has taken to address it, for in thereview she is able to "combine both theliterary and the personal moment," asshe puts it, and respond to poetry with allthe freshness of her first reactions andall the insights of a fine critical reader.With each review reflecting a detail inthe pattern, she creates for us a mosaicof modern poetry. The juxtapostion oftheir various focuses within thechronological frame gives us a realnotion of the idiosyncracies of modernpoetry, at the same time as they are heldto a center by Vendler's own voice, whichis as sure and strong as that of any of thepoets she writes about.The poet perhaps most readilyassociated with Helen Vendler is WallaceStevens, thanks to her book On ExtendedWings, a reading and commentary on hislonger poems. It's not surprising then,that this collection should open with fiftypages on Stevens — more than for anyother single poet except Robert Lowell.In four essays written over the past tenyears, she ranges from the problem of"the false and tru sublime" in Stevens, toa review of his daughter's edition of hisjournal, from the role of feeling in hispoetry, to the presence of Keats in hiswork. Stevens is a central figure forVendler, both personally and in the canonof modern American poetry. The verytitle, Part of Nature, Part of Us is takenfrom his poems. He is otherwisecontinually present, both implicitly andexplicitly, glinting in the hollows of herprose when alluded to, surfacing in overtcomparisons, sometimes insinuatinghimself into her very turns of phrase.There are moments, rather unnerving,when Stevens' voice seems all too evidentin Vendler's prose.Vendler's use of Stevens as atouchstone both for herself and modernAmerican poetry is both an illustration indetail and a general definition of the wayshe approaches and reads modernpoetry. Her aim in this collection is to"look to see what common notes thesepoets strike and how they make it new."And so Vendler often returns to those shesees as centers or sources of moderntradition to get her bearings and ours,and works out from there. As a results ,•f— A Generous EclecticismHelen VendlerWordworth and Keats, Coleridge andYeats, as well as Wallace Stevens areoften found in these pages.In her reviews, poets are constantlyplaced in context with each other,reflected against each other, read in lightof each other. Charles Wright isconsidered through his translations ofMontale, and James Merrill's punningnames are set beside George Herbert'sseventeenth-century language games,while Keats "To Autumn" is discoveredin Stevens' "Credences of Summer" and"Auroras of Autumn". Poets never standin a vacuum here, but are made sense ofby their relations to one another. Byplacing them in a tradition, and showinghow they make it new and different,Vendler has them speak with their ownvoices as they continue to treat thequestions, problems, and themes poetshave always dealt with.If this stance is at the core of herapproach to literature, the various formsit takes in this collection are an adequatereflection of the multiple directionspoetry can take. Reviews range from acommentary on a single poem, as on theoccasion of a piece on the facsimileedition of Eliot's Waste Land, to anoverview of an entire collection, such asAuden's Collected Poems, to a focus onan underlying theme, such as FrankO'Hara and "The Virtue of theAlterable". We find essays ranging froma twenty page commentary on Stevens asa reader of Keats, to an overview of tencontemporary poets in the same amountof space. There's a three page note onRobert Penn Warren's Audubon: AVision and three essays on RobertLowell, who inexplicably receives asmuch attention as the seminal figureStevens. There's an overview of all ofMarianne Moore's poetry, and a reviewof Adrienne Rich's autobiography. Shetalks of Plath on metaphor, touches onElizabeth Bishop as translator of Paz,gives us an essay on the black poetspublished by Broadside Press in Detroit,and attacks Steven Axelrod's criticism ofLowell.She may take up a single facet of asingle writer which she perceives ascentral, such as Charles Wright and hisconcern with the "Transcendent 'I'", orshe may take them up in multipleperspective, as she does with essays onRandall Jarrell's Complete Poems andThe Third Book of Criticism. WithBerryman, she uses this resurfacingtechnique, with an essay devoted to theDream Songs, and a hundred pages later,a commentary on Delusions, juxtaposedto remarks on the Collected Poems ofA.R. Ammons and the Complete Poemsof E.E. Cummings.Though she has her predilections,Vendler doesn't hesitate to point out whatshe considers to be the less than perfectpoems of a Stevens or a Lowell againstthe backdrop of their masterpieces, or even to downright pan people, be theypoet or critics. Though she is less thanglowing in her remarks on W.S. Merwinor Olga Broumas, it seems Vendler canforgive more in her poets than in theircritics — the only downright harshreview in the entire collection is hercritique of Steven Axelrod's book onRobert Lowell where, she feels, thescholar has misread the poet.The approach is obviously an eclecticone, but one of the joys of collections ofreviews is that they are expected to bejust that. But even though Vendler's is alarge and generous eclecticism, there arenonetheless some unexpected gaps. JohnAshbery, for instance, is not discussed,which is a rather notable omission.Similarly, women poets hold a relativelysmall place, and though she devotes acertain amount of time and space to themore well known among them, such asMoore, Plath, Louise Gluck andElizabeth Bishop, it might have beenequally useful to spend the same amountof space on lesser known women writers,who lack not quality, but simply a largeraudience. We could have usedintroductions to more poets such as theBroadside Press's Audre Lord. Finally,since Vendler is so clearly intrigued withthe notion of translation as a key to thepoetics of the poet translating, I wish shehad done a little more with that, andincluded her essays on Robert Bly andElizabeth Bishop as translators andpoets. But in the face of everything elsethese reviews bring us, these arerelatively minor quibbles.In her brief introduction, Helen Vendlercharacterizes her reviews as focusing on"the simplicity, naturalness andaccessibility" of the poems sheconsidered, rather than on their density,difficulty and peculiarity, and in thismakes the distinction between reviewingand criticism. It is in this particularemphasis, l think, that the special valueof her book lies. By reversing thetraditional line of critical inquiry, sheconsiders these poems not from the pointof view of their difficulty — that sostriking modern characteristic — butinstead looks beyond these complicatedverbal structures to the familiar centersof poetry, the common ground betweenthe modern poets and ourselves. In a few direct words, Vendlermanages to find a heartbeat for us, givesus an insight into a poem or poet inwords that mean something to us all. Wesee Gluck's poetry as being about "theremoteness of what was once common,"and in Ammons we find the poet "who isbest able to write poetry deprived ofwhat almost all other poets have used,notably people and adjectives." Withwords like these, Helen Vendler finds for| us the odd and rare voices of genius ini modern American poetry.In The Third Book of Criticism,Randall Jarrell defines a good critic with| the following phrase: "One who learnedto show others what he saw in what hej read." Vendler uses the phrase toI characterize Jarrell as a poet, but itsums up perfectly her own great qualities— she is a superb critical reader, and shetells us what she finds in her reading in aeminently accessible way. At their heart,| however, there is something even moreimportant, and that is someone who! genuinely cares about literature. It isj that caring which makes her want tourge the "simplicity, naturalness and! accessiblity of poetry," and make itavailable to others who might not beliterary specialists, like herself, butI nevertheless want to know more about it.It is likewise that caring which makesher both a good reader and a goodscholar. As a result, she is able to findfor us "the idiosyncratic voice, wonderfully different from any other" inthe poets she deals with and, rescuingthem here from the private gamepreserve of the literary critic, bring theirpoetry back to those for whom it wasintended to begin with.This is the truly striking aspect of Partof Nature, Part of Us. It is about thosethree basics in literature, writing,reading, and the individual. The poetwriting, both as artist and human being;the reader reading; and the poem whichis the link between them and thereflection of their common concerns,they are the real center of Vendler'sreviews. In a time of increasinglycomplex approaches to literature,especially modern literature, the returnfo that fundamental relationship is whatgives Part of Nature, Part of Us, itsoriginality and its strength.The Asphalt KissOne of those big-dropped April rainscame plopping under my blackhigh pressure Road Hugger Eighty-Eights as Iswooped left, angle-banking.Physics, having gotten out of the wrong side of the bed,took advantage of my veering:the out-push was greater than the in-pull, orthe slide outweighed the rubber hot-hold, orwell, in any case, my will(as expressed through the handlebars)was denied. It was remarkably palebefore the blue reddenedat the touch of oxygen. It dawnedon me, “I amlying in the unshy embrace of asphaltwith a skinned elbow.” The carnation redis crimsoned almost black,the lipstick of that asphalt kissan itching, crumbling shadow.— John RossheimThe Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980 — 29wv JO A>• y* ( j ■»jHYDE PARK YMCA DAY CAMPJune 16 to August 22 1980AGES 6-13REGULAR CAMP$ 65.00 — Y Members$ 70 00 — Non Members$ 95.00 — Y Members$105 00 — Non Members$ 95.00 — Y Members$ 105 00 — Non Members$ 65.00 — Y Members$ 70.00 — Non Members 1 st Session(2 week session)2nd Session(3 week session)3rd Session(3 week session)4th Session(2 week session) PIXIE CAMPAGES 4 and 5$55.00—Y Members$60.00—Non Members$80.00—Y Members$90.00—Non Members$80.00—Y Members$90 00—Non Members$55.00—Y Members$60.00—Non MembersActivities are conducted in the Palos Park Forest Preserve and the YMCAand include Crafts, Nature Lore, Campcraft, Games, Cookouts, Group Singing,Hiking, and four days of Swimming Instruction each week.Bus service at established stops through the area.Hyde Park YMCA1400 E. 53rd StreetChicago, Illinois 60615(312)-324-5300 Em SPECIAL DISCOUNT PRICESlor all STUDENTS andFACULTY MEMBERSJust present your University of Chicago IdentificationCard. As Students or Faculty Members you are entitledto special money-saving DISCOUNTS on ChevroletParts, Accessories and any new or used Chevrolet youbuy from Ruby Chevrolet.GM QUALITYSERVICE PARTSGENERAL MOTORS PARTS DIVISIONKeep Thai Great GM heeling K ith C/.A Ll.\h GM Paris72nd & Stony Islandj Open Evenings and Sunday 684-0400Parts Open Sat. 'til noon2 Miles - 5 Minutes AwayFrom The UNIVERSITY72nd & Stony IslandOpen Evenings and Sundays 684-0400Parts Open Sat. 'til nooni'I SPECIAL DISCOUNT PRICES| far all STUDENTS andFACULTY MEMBERSJust present your University of Chicago IdentificationCord. As Students or Faculty Members you are entitledto special money saving DISCOUNTS on VolkswagenParts, Accessories and any new or used Volkswagenyou buy from Ruby VolkswagenThere’s aNew Hilton in yourNeighborhood.The Hyde Park Hilton.Spokesmen Bicycle Shop8301 Hyde Park Blvd.Selling Quality ImportedBikes.Raliegh, Peugeot, Fuii,Motobecane, WindsorBad a full inventoryof MOFBDSOpen 10-7 M-F, 10-5 Sat.11-4 Sun Rollerskates forB®A*3T37 sale or Rent.— The Ch\c»n. .Uterary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980 VERSAILLES5254 S. DorchesterWELL MAINTAINEDBUILDINGAttractive 1 ‘/i and2l/t Room StudiosFurnished or Unfurnished$218to $320Based on AvailabilityAt Campus Bus Stop324 0200 Mrs. Croak Your new neighbor, the Hyde ParkHilton, is ideally located on the lake at 50thStreet; for business or pleasure; meetingsor banquets; out of town guests or a week¬end on the town for you.Spacious, comfortable rooms, finecuisine in the Chartwell House, and casualdining in the Laurel Cafe, large pool andpatio, free parking... everything you’d ex¬pect from a Hilton, right in your backyard./For information and reservationscall: 288-5800... it’s a very local call.X HYDE PARK HILTON4900 South Lake Shore Drive Chicago II 60615Vendler:By Catherine MoulyReviewing Helen Vendler's latest bookis a little like holding a mirror to amirror, since Part of Nature, Part of Usis itself a collection of reviews aboutother books, some of which are, in fact,appraisals of still other books. Luckilyfor us, however, Part of Nature, Part ofUs is a much more solid achievementthan such a description might at firstimply. Far from the vagueness orincoherence which might be the result ofsuch a seemingly loose approach in lesssure hands, this book sharply focuses onthe individual facets of modern poetrywhich the multiple perspective ofVendler's collection discovers for us as,in her own words, she considers poets"one by one, to find in each theidiosyncratic voice wonderfully differentfrom any other."Part of Nature, Part of Us is acollection of reviews, essays, and articlesculled from such eclectic sources as TheNew York Times Book Review,Salamagundi and The New Republic, andspanning the past ten years in Vendler'scareer as literary scholar and reviewer.The essays are organized by poet in aloosely chronolgical order, starting withWallace Stevens and ending with a groupreview of ten books published in 1977, butthough this could well be characterizedas a subjective overview of Americanpoetry, it is by no means meant as ahistory of its development. The historicalframework serves rather as a flexiblestructure within which Vendler toucheson various aspects of some forty poets,from T.S. Eliot to C.K. Williams.The format shows itself to be singularlyappropriate both to the complexity andvariety of modern poetry and the stanceshe has taken to address it, for in thereview she is able to "combine both theliterary and the personal moment," asshe puts it, and respond to poetry with allthe freshness of her first reactions andall the insights of a fine critical reader.With each review reflecting a detail inthe pattern, she creates for us a mosaicof modern poetry. The juxtapostion oftheir various focuses within thechronological frame gives us a realnotion of the idiosyncracies of modernpoetry, at the same time as they are heldto a center by Vendler's own voice, whichis as sure and strong as that of any of thepoets she writes about.The poet perhaps most readilyassociated with Helen Vendler is WallaceStevens, thanks to her book On ExtendedWings, a reading and commentary on hislonger poems. It's not surprising then,that this collection should open with fiftypages on Stevens — more than for anyother single poet except Robert Lowell.In four essays written over the past tenyears, she ranges from the problem of"the false and tru sublime" in Stevens, toa review of his daughter's edition of hisjournal, from the role of feeling in hispoetry, to the presence of Keats in hiswork. Stevens is a central figure forVendler, both personally and in the canonof modern American poetry. The verytitle, Part of Nature, Part of Us is takenfrom his poems. He is otherwisecontinually present, both implicitly andexplicitly, glinting in the hollows of herprose when alluded to, surfacing in overtcomparisons, sometimes insinuatinghimself into her very turns of phrase.There are moments, rather unnerving,when Stevens' voice seems all too evidentin Vendler's prose.Vendler's use of Stevens as atouchstone both for herself and modernAmerican poetry is both an illustration indetail and a general definition of the wayshe approaches and reads modernpoetry. Her aim in this collection is to"look to see what common notes thesepoets strike and how they make it new."And so Vendler often returns to those shesees as centers or sources of moderntradition to get her bearings and ours,and works out from there. As a result,. ,•<— A Generous EclecticismHelen VendlerWordworth and Keats, Coleridge andYeats, as well as Wallace Stevens areoften found in these pages.In her reviews, poets are constantlyplaced in context with each other,reflected against each other, read in lightof each other. Charles Wright isconsidered through his translations ofMontale, and James Merrill's punningnames are set beside George Herbert'sseventeenth century language games,while Keats "To Autumn" is discoveredin Stevens' "Credences of Summer" and"Auroras of Autumn". Poets never standin a vacuum here, but are made sense ofby their relations to one another. Byplacing them in a tradition, and showinghow they make it new and different,Vendler has them speak with their ownvoices as they continue to treat thequestions, problems, and themes poetshave always dealt with.If this stance is at the core of herapproach to literature, the various formsit takes in this collection are an adequatereflection of the multiple directionspoetry can take. Reviews range from acommentary on a single poem, as on theoccasion of a piece on the facsimileedition of Eliot's Waste Land, to anoverview of an entire collection, such asAuden's Collected Poems, to a focus onan underlying theme, such as FrankO'Hara and "The Virtue of theAlterable". We find essays ranging froma twenty page commentary on Stevens asa reader of Keats, 1o an overview of tencontemporary poets in the same amountof space. There's a three page note onRobert Penn Warren's Audubon: AVision and three essays on RobertLowell, who inexplicably receives asmuch attention as the seminal figureStevens. There's an overview of all ofMarianne Moore’s poetry, and a reviewof Adrienne Rich's autobiography. Shetalks of Plath on metaphor, touches onElizabeth Bishop as translator of Paz,gives us an essay on the black poetspublished by Broadside Press in Detroit,and attacks Steven Axelrod's criticism ofLowell.She may take up a single facet of asingle writer which she perceives ascentral, such as Charles Wright and hisconcern with the "Transcendent orshe may take them up in multipleperspective, as she does with essays onRandall Jarrell's Complete Poems andThe Third Book of Criticism. WithBerryman, she uses this resurfacingtechnique, with an essay devoted to theDream Songs, and a hundred pages later,a commentary on Delusions, juxtaposedto remarks on the Collected Poems ofA.R. Ammons and the Complete Poemsof E.E. Cummings.Though she has her predilections,Vendler doesn't hesitate to point out whatshe considers to be the less than perfectpoems of a Stevens or a Lowell againstthe backdrop of their masterpieces, or even to downright pan people, be theypoet or critics. Though she is less thanglowing in her remarks on W.S. Merwinor Olga Broumas, it seems Vendler canforgive more in her poets than in theircritics — the only downright harshreview in the entire collection is hercritique of Steven Axelrod's book onRobert Lowell where, she feels, thescholar has misread the poet.The approach is obviously an eclecticone, but one of the joys of collections ofreviews is that they are expected to bejust that. But even though Vendler's is alarge and generous eclecticism, there arenonetheless some unexpected gaps. JohnAshbery, for instance, is not discussed,which is a rather notable omission.Similarly, women poets hold a relativelysmall place, and though she devotes acertain amount of time and space to themore well known among them, such asMoore, Plath, Louise Gluck andElizabeth Bishop, it might have beenequally useful to spend the same amountof space on lesser known women writers,who lack not quality, but simply a largeraudience. We could have usedintroductions to more poets such as theBroadside Press's Audre Lord. Finally,since Vendler is so clearly intrigued withthe notion of translation as a key to thepoetics of the poet translating, I wish shehad done a little more with that, andincluded her essays on Robert Bly andElizabeth Bishop as translators andpoets. But in the face of everything elsethese reviews bring us, these arerelatively minor quibbles.In her brief introduction, Helen Vendlercharacterizes her reviews as focusing on"the simplicity, naturalness andaccessibility" of the poems sheconsidered, rather than on their density,difficulty and peculiarity, and in thismakes the distinction between reviewingand criticism. It is in this particularemphasis, I think, that the special valueof her book lies. By reversing thetraditional line of critical inquiry, sheconsiders these poems not from the pointof view of their difficulty — that sostriking modern characteristic — butinstead looks beyond these complicatedverbal structures to the familiar centersof poetry, the common ground betweenthe modern poets and ourselves. In a few direct words, Vendlermanages to find a heartbeat for us, givesus an insight into a poem or poet inwords that mean something to us all. Wesee Gluck's poetry as being about "the| remoteness of what was once common,"and in Ammons we find the poet "who isbest able to write poetry deprived ofwhat almost all othe/ poets have used,notably people and adjectives." Withwords like these, Helen Vendler finds for! us the odd and rare voices of genius inmodern American poetry.In The Third Book of Criticism,Randall Jarrell defines a good critic withthe following phrase: "One who learnedj to show others what he saw in what he! read." Vendler uses the phrase to: characterize Jarrell as a poet, but it| sums up perfectly her own great qualities— she is a superb critical reader, and shetells us what she finds in her reading in ai eminently accessible way. At their heart,however, there is something even moreimportant, and that is someone whogenuinely cares about literature. It is| that caring which makes her want toI urge the "simplicity, naturalness andi accessiblity of poetry," and make itavailable to others who might not beliterary specialists, like herself, but; nevertheless want to know more about it.It is likewise that caring which makesher both a good reader and a goodscholar. As a result, she is able to findfor us "the idiosyncratic voicewonderfully different from any other" in| the poets she deals with and, rescuingI them here from the private gamepreserve of the literary critic, bring theirpoetry back to those for whom it wasintended to begin with.This is the truly striking aspect of Partof Nature, Part of Us. It is about thosethree basics in literature: writing,reading, and the individual. The poetwriting, both as artist and human being;the reader reading; and the poem whichis the link between them and thereflection of their common concerns,they are the real center of Vendler'sreviews. In a time of increasinglycomplex approaches to literature,especially modern literature, the returnfo that fundamental relationship is whatgives Part of Nature, Part of Us, itsoriginality and its strength.The Asphalt KissOne of those big-dropped April rainscame plopping under my blackhigh pressure Road Hugger Eighty-Eights as Iswooped left, angle-banking.Physics, having gotten out of the wrong side of the bed,took advantage of my veering:the out-push was greater than the in-pull, orthe slide outweighed the rubber hot-hold, orwell, in any case, my will(as expressed through the handlebars)was denied. It was remarkably palebefore the blue reddenedat the touch of oxygen. It dawnedon me, “I amlying in the unshy embrace of asphaltwith a skinned elbow.” The carnation redis crimsoned almost black,the lipstick of that asphalt kissan itching, crumbling shadow.— John RossheimThe Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980 - 29Tess GallagherContinued from p. 27fastness. There's a timeless quality inIreland; it's very pastoral still. Since themiddle class is starting to happen therenow, this probably won't last very long.Everybody will get cars, will get muchmore mobile. The things they'll want willbe more like the things Americans want —everybody's got to have a TV. It's veryhard to believe in ghosts when you haveMcDonald's.In Belfast, I found that the people werevery free. This could have something to dowith what Sartre said about the French —how free the.French were under the Germans, because every day you had to makea choice against what was happening toyou. This made you free, because you hadto be tested. And you were tested everyday. In Northern Ireland, your beliefs areon the line, and your loyalties, every day.It was valuable to me to see that you can'texperience freedom fully until it's threatened.McQ: Hayden Carruth wrote of your"feminine delicacy of language." Does itmean something different to be a womanwriting than a man? Are you conscious ofwriting about what are called "women'sexperiences?" Do you consider yourself afeminist?Gallagher: I'm a feminist, sure — in thesense that I want things to get better forwomen. I'm very conscious of all thethings that need to be done. I'm not a fe iminist in the sense of being very active po litically; I'm active in my attitude towardthose changes as I see them in my own lifeand as I approach them in the lives I writeabout. I'm not a "joiner."Women have very different experiencesfrom men, because of the fact that they'rein a different body. The poem I wrotecalled "Breasts" I wouldn't have written ifI had been a man. There are instances inwhich men have written very well out offemale personas — there's the case of Randall Jarrell's poem "Next Day," where hewrites about a woman who finds herself ignored because she's old. Women lose a certain amount of their "currency" whentheir beauty fades. I don't think I wouldhave written a poem called "My MotherRemembers When She Was Beautiful" if Ididn't have a certain sense of what it is tobe a woman and to feel the unreasonabledemands of beauty upon women in this society — that is, that we are female impersonators a lot of the time.McQ: Impersonating what?Gallagher: Impersonating an idea ofj what it is to be a woman. And we get a lotj of this even from our own mothers.What has been valuable in the female exi perience has been the development of thei empathetic factor — that we have had toI be caretakers of other people, and that wehave been waiters and watchers. This hasi a good aspect — we have had to take onother people's sensibilities. We have prob| ably gone farther into the male sensibilitythan men have toward the feminine.That's an interesting idea to me. It's not allbad, the things that have happened to usthrough our exclusions — we have manystrengths from them. And I think that wedon't want to lose those. McQ: I really liked the Irish songs yousang at your reading last night, and I waswondering how you thought that your singing affected, and how it differed from, theway you go about writing poems.Gallagher: How the singing is differentfrom the writing?McQ: Yes. Once you began singing, didwriting seem different to you? Differentfrom what it had seemed before you begansinging? It made me think, too, about whatyou were writing about in the Atlantic (the ;! expansion of the "I"), because, somehow,1 when you're singing you're not yourself \anymore. You're immediately somebodyelse, and that has something to do with thephysical aspect of it. You're not as conj scious mentally of what you're doing asj you are when you're writing. Especially if: you're singing with other people — inI series with them, not all at once, maybe,but in response — it's sort of like becomingother people, right away — you have to.Gallagher: When I sing those songs, I'm| very conscious of the songs having beenj sung for a long time, and I seem to hook upwith their tradition. I can take it on, even: though I don't belong to it. That's a thingwe miss a lot in America, because we don'thave as easily available traditions. Wehave a lot of songs that have been identitied as American, but of course they'vecome from everywhere else.I get attached to the story element in the| songs. I live out the stories when I'm sing; ing them. I actually do enact the voices, asyou heard. I feel very absent from the: company when I sing; i feel elsewhere.And I love the ability of the voice to lift the | spirit in songs.You notice that people who sing live to bej very old; this is true in Ireland. One musician, who recently died — he was a fiddler— said, "I'm never alone. I'm never lonely," because he had his music always ac¬companying him. All he needed to do wasto sing, and he wasn't alone. He had thisongoing music in his life.McQ: Is it just as true that you're notalone if you can keep writing?Gallagher: Yeah, it's a way of accompanying the self. Right. It's been a real steadying thing in my life. Any time when I'vebeen in trouble in my life, I've gone to writing.• Eye Examinations• Contact Lenses• (Soft and Hard)• Fashion Eye Wear• Contact Lens SuppliesDR. M.R. MASLOVOPTOMETRISTS Hyde ParkShopping Center1510 E. 55th363-6363 SCHOOL OF PUBLIC HEALTH UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS ATTHE MEDICAL CENTER, CHICAGOInvites Applications for Degree ProgramsMASTER OF PUBLIC HEALTH (M PH )MASTER OF SCIENCE IN PUBLIC HEALTH (M S )DOCTOR OF PUBLIC HEALTH (Dr PH.)DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN PUBLIC HEALTH (Ph D )Concentrations are offered in Biometry Epidemiology Environmental andOccupational Health Sciences Industrial Hygiene and Safety Health Sciencesand Community Health Sciences. Administration and Health Law Health Eduration Population Sciences and International HealthFinancial assistance is available through Public Health Traineeships and Research Positions Deadline to apply for M PH Program is February 15 1980Deadline for M S Dr P H and Ph D Programs is six weeks prior to the quarter in which the applicant wishes to enter.For further information write or telephoneJames W WagnerAssistant Dean for Student AffairsUniversity of Illinois at the Medical CenterP 0 Box 6998Chicago Illinois 60680(312) 996 6626The School encourages applications from qualified minority students GOLD CITY INN V.given * * * *by the MAROONOpen DoilyFrom 11:30 o.m.to feOO p.m.5228 Harper 493-2559(n««r Hmrpf Court)Eat more for less."A Gold Mine Ot Good Food"Student Discount:1 0% for table service5% for take homeJ^ParViBejKontonewFoodpockefeller Memorial Chapel“ill 5850 S. Wood lawn AveJune 8, 1980ConvocationSunday9:00 Holy Communion11:00 University Religious ServiceJoseph M. KitagawaDean of the Divinity SchoolAcjct University ReligiousService u ill beJune 29, 11:00 A.M.Reverend Kenneth HarvvJBelfast, Ireland THE ANCIENT CITYFust*I Oc Coulanyty w/th a,fortiori b/ AmajY* Mo*igli*n* tu\Jbally HumphreysWeooV 0‘FlahertyatSToyr<ifht<( by rt< avYAerrWOMEN OF SOUTH M:A OWE TO RESOURCESCarol Jakfljo.CL<sfcjs~a.fAiA bpihe xuiAormmiYcoot bookstores uv/vetvT/- thv 9 }o- QfMY (Mi 9 jc-f j at //- y iMOfSp.i i » > '• ■/ , ii Tr • \w »r I jt.W pfhOTHER MYTHICAL fcAW We BuyUsed RecordsPIZZAPLATTER1460 E. 53rdMl 3-2800No Delivery30 The Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980WkKoeN class if (£D N£XT ISSUE: juL.Y 2>cJ-AI>D£4£>UNe: Jt/t-K / s*~noonSPACE61st Dorchester: Modern 2 & 3 bd apts.rental from $350.00 to $425.00 a month.Sec, dep. req. 425-7300University Park studio. 55th and Dor¬chester. Drapes, w.w. carpet. $30,750.435- or 955-7399Looking for an apartment or tenant?Come to the Student GovernmentHousing Service. Weekly list availablefrom 3-6 Mon.-Friday at the SC officeroom 306 Ida Noyes Hall or call753-3273.WANTED: Male roommate to shareone bedroom apt. 5480 Cornell. $165.Phone 643-1482 after 6 p.m.Condo for sale-2 bd E. Hyde Pk condonew condition close to 1C 492-2179Female roomate wanted for spacious 2bedroom apt handy local $180 readyJune contact Breckie 241-7429 even-ings.SUMMER SUBLET spacious H P aptnewly renovated, near lake and co-op,Hyde Park blvd and 55, Indry new appliances $125/person/mo. Rentnegotiable 753 2240 rm 1713.Basement apartment on South HydePark Blvd. Large living room,bedroom, kitchen, bath. 200/month.One-year lease. Call 955-0413.Summer Sublet: 4 bdrm. apt. each rm.$U0/month, no utilities, air condition¬ing. 57th 8< Dorchester; Universityowned. Call 955-7811 or 955-7798 beforenoon or after 11.4 bedroom condominiums at 50th &Dorchester. 3 left from 47,500 to 49,500Common elements & exterior rehabb-ed apts as is 363-1332.SUMMER SUBLET: 4 bedrooms at54th and Harper, near coop $100 monthper person. Call 3-2233 rm. 131, 321.2 bdrm. avail. July prime loc Universi¬ty Gardens 1450 E 55 $550 eve 432 2434Or 642 6220.Spacious 3rd floor apt in Kenwoodavail Sept in return for supervision ofchildren 7, 11, 13, maximum 25 hrsweekly. Trees, privacy, well-patrolledare aon U.C. bus route. Good for gradstudent couple or single person Call548 0017 eves or weekend withreferences.Spacious, furnished 1-br apt very nearto campus. From June 12 for 2 monthperiod. $265 per month. Call 955-5566ROOM FOR RENT in spacious 3bedrm apt w/sunporch, on corner of 56& Blackstone Beginning mid June2/fall option possible $167 per mo.,female wanted call 288-7433SUMMER SUBLET available fornear, quiet female; 1 bdrm in 3 bdrmapt; only 2 bldgs east of law schl; only$90/mo + utilities; call 363-6094 din¬nertime.SUMMER SUBLET fall option 3bdrms available in spacious 3 bdrmapt $125 per person part turn startJune 12. 54 Blackstone near co-op.Work 947-1876 or 947-5138 home324-5506 ask for John or leavemessage.SPACIOUS 2 bdrm apt: lease for sum¬mer and next year. $355/mo. AvailableJune 14. Call 324-1346.2 bedroom apt avail Aug. 1. 53rd andHarper $302/mo. Call 241-6878.Female roommate wanted forspacious 2 bedroom apt handy local$180 ready June contact Beckie241-7429 evenings. With fall option.ROOMMATE WANTED for 21st flRegents Park Apartment availableJune 13 or later-private bath, aircond., dishwasher, carpeting, in-bldgLaundry. Student preferred. CallCarla 241-5044 keep trying.West side New York apart, for rent until 9/1, 2 bdrm convenient locationCall Juliet 212-663-0241 or leavemessage for Howard 212-663-5026.Lg. efficiency in married std hsg avail,for sublet 7/1, new lease option 9/1.Call Mike love wk 372-3766 hm 955-9638.GOOD DEAL! Summer sublet$87.50/mo. good location 5500 S. Univ.spacious 3 bdrm avlble June 15.66759681 bdrm furnished apt on lake 15thfloor, near campus. Laundry, store,rest/bar, pool. For rent June-Sept.684-7397.LONDON 2 bedroom furnished flatavailable September for academicyear. $3754 Royston 4074 Grove,Western Springs, II. 60558. 246 1762.3rd roommate for 3 bedroom lake viewRegents Pk. apartment starting midJuly. Call Rich or Pete at 643-1329evenings.Female grad student or workingwoman wanted to share 5 room 2-brapt., near co-op on bus route. Rent$133. Call 753-4273 days, 667-7749nights.Beautiful, sunny, 1 bdrm sublet. Furnished, air cond., exc. location. 56thand Kmbr. July, Aug., Sept. $350 permonth. Phone after 6pm 947 9604ROOMMATE WANTED room for rentfor summer. Possible fall option. Sunny house, Dorchester Ave. $125 amonth. Call 752-7198 evesSum. sublet 51 and Dorchester, 8 floor,1 liv and 1 bedroom, lake view Nicelyfurnished, air cond., color TV, stereo AM FM, all kitchen and dinner ware.For a single or couple with no children.Available JUL 12 AUG 31. Mr. Pinto.324-9004, 6pm-10pm.One bedroom apt. beautiful lakeviewand hardwood firs near 1C in HydePark. Available June 15.667 0284.SUBLET one bedroom apt on Harper,June 15-Sept 15 8150/mo. Call 324-7953.Near campus, room for rent for malestudent. 510/week. D03-2521.Save money 1 room with kitchenprivileges working woman or femalegrad student vie 57th Kenwood.955-4335 after 6:30.ROOMMATE WANTED to share3bdrapt with 2 male grad stds. Two blocksfrom Reg. $134/mo. 955-4158.Large turn studio apt, 2 loft bdrms,wdbrng frpl, all electric Call after 6p.m. 288-1964.Sunny bedroom in 3Va rm apt avail midJune. 119.50 includes heat, water andsmall friendly cat. Non smokingfemale preferred. Call Nancy 684-5478.54th and Harper.Fmle wntd share 2 bdrm apt and foodstarting 7-1 your share 184/mo.Modern secure. Janet 288-0350.PEOPLE WANTEDEarn extra money at home. Good pay.Easy work. No experience necessary.Send for application. Home Money,Box 2432B, Iowa City, Iowa, 52240.The Department of BehavioralSciences needs people who want toparticipate as paid subjects inpsychol inguistic and cognitivepsychology experiments. For furtherinformation call 753-4718.The football team is in need of amanager and statistician next fall.Please contact Coach Larsen if in¬terested. Room 102A 753 4683.We seek mothers of 15-to 16-month-oldchildren for a Dept, of Education studyof mother and child language. For fur¬ther information call 752-5932 or288-6099 after 6pm.Fill in for 1-girl office week of June 9.Open mail, answer phone and type.8:45-5:00. Near 1C S. Chicago. 221-5737.RESEARCH ASST. Full time positionavailable now. Work involves theanalysis of criminal court files. Posi¬tion for summer. Send resume to Dr.Gilboy American Bar Foundation, 1155East 60th St. 60637. Tele667-4700.Part-time gym teacher for AkibaSchechter School grades 1 thru 8 5 hrsper week call 493-8880.Secretary needed for varilogylaboratory. Approx 15 hr/wk. typing,purchase supplies and equip., etc. In-quire 753-2702.Need Part Time Assistant in DentalOffice. Exp. Pref But Will TrainQualified Individ. Loc. Hyde ParkBank Bldg. Lite Typing nec. Hrs. 2-6.Mon. Tue„ Thur., Fri; Sat Morns.Phone MI3-9607Room and board in exchange forchildcare assistance with two schoolage daughters. Close to campus. Beginmid-July 643-5307.FOR SALE7" Tape reel $1 piece 1970 Good condi¬tion Chevrolet Impala $400 or best offer. Call 268-9262eves.Matt and bxspg $20 good cond Desk520. Call Carole 753-3776.1975 Fiat Wagon 30,000 mi $2000or bestoffer 241-5055 or 753-1162Must sell 71 Mach I, 82K miles, somerust, auto trans., $500. Call 753-2103 rm504, Leave messageWATERBED 3 yrs left on guaranteeS80/STEEL DESK, STENO CHAIR,$90/HI CHAIR, 55/EASY CHAIR,SIO/SOFA $110 VARIOUS SHELVING,TABLES, LAMPS, etc. Also UCDIPLOMA $25000, lettering extra Call752-8018, 947-1950 3 pm-11 pm Ask forRon. TRY HARDKenmore Heavy Duty Washer $250 andKenmore heavy duty dryer $150. In excel lent condition. Call 752-2159.> family YARD SALE, Sat. June 7 fur-•liture, kitchenware, games, etc. 6011Ingleside 10-1.Dresser $25 teak, wall desk, $60684-1436 evenings.1975 2 door Ford Granada, Am/Fmstereo, a/c, new carb. New exhaust,65000 miles. Very good condition. $1400or nearest offer. 667-6675.Sofa, queen size bed 3 tabels, 3x5 ft.oak desk, more. Call 955 8242.Classic school teacher's desk verylarge very beautiful and very oak$195 00 or best offer. 684 6566 _YARD SALE, furniture, bedspread,tools, books, camera accessories,household good, and more. June 7th. 10to 3. 5525 S. Hyde Park.PEOPLE FOR SALETyping done in IBM by college grad;pica type Term papers, theses, lawbriefs resumes, letters, manuscriptsFast accurate, reliable, reasonableNew Town area Call 248 1478.TYPIST Dissertation quality, help with grammar, language as neededFree depending on manuscript. IBMSelectric. Judith. 955-4417.Exp switchboard operator needs pttime position hours flex. Serious inquiriesonly 493-9638Excellent care for 6 mon 2 yr. childavail July 1, fulltime. Stim. environ¬ment, warm expernd teacher. JudyZurbrig, 684 2820Experienced Secretary types thesis,reports, etc. Grammar corrected. Oneday service Pickup-Delivery.667-8657,Need it now? Emerg serv at 120 wpmIBM corr spell. Ted 32240 1919x.SCENESThe Chicago Counseling and Psychotherapy Center, a registered psychological agency, announces the for¬mation of a new, on going PersonalIssues Group for Men: identity, chang¬ing roles and expectations, career,transitions. Minimum age 18. Wednesday evenings beginning June 18, 1980.$45 per month payable in advance.Leader: William Bradley MTS, SW.684-1800 for further information orpreliminary interview.Party with the Imports tomorrow 9 pmto 2 am at the Winter Palace 5100 S.Ellis, $1 donation for the Int'l People'sArt Fest.SERVICESCarpentry, drywall, painting, wiring.Competent and imaginative work.Free estimates. 684-2286.Counseling. I am training as apsychotherapist. I consult with an ex¬perienced psychologist. Low fee. CallMike, 288-8751.The Chicago Counseling and Psychotherapy Center. Client-Centeredpsychotherapy (since 1945). 5711 S.Woodlawn and 6354 N. Broadway,Chicago. A Registered PsychologicalAgency. (312) 684-1800.WORRIED? Talking can help. Blackfemale therapist. Licensed (ACSW).Sliding scale. For appt. 493-3647.Voice coach and Accompanist M.M.in Voice Performance, Exp. Teacher,Ph 493-3851.Tennis lessons former varsity playerspecial rates for 2 or more Brad Lyttie. 324-0654,The Rustic Continental Studio-Beautiful haircuts and care. By appointments only 288-7080. Roger, Boband Linda.Experienced student painters-Interior, exterior. Reasonable rates.References. Hyde Park area for freeestimate call Paul 239-4141, Ellen288-4392 (6-11 pm 7:30-8:30am)WANTEDCash for Graduation Tickets - Fri.June 13, 3 pm. Humanities, 2nd sesSion. 957-3762.Ticket to College graduation for my 80-yr-old grandfather. 955-5372.Someone to produce statistics andtables from 15 simple questionnaires.994-6972.LOST AND FOUNDREWARD (no questions asked) for thereturn of a rust-colored French clutchlost or stolen in or around the HydePark Herald Blgd. May 28. Containsimportant addessses. Call 493-4532.LOST: Attache case tan near 58th andKenwood. Valuable papers, Rewardcall 753-2552 work 684-6817 home.FOUND Vic. 60th and Ellis largeShepherd. Call 684-5835.LOST One family gold ring lost atAlpha Delta Phi on May 23. If foundplease return for thirty dollar rewardor call 753-3257 and ask for Kevin.PERSONALSWRITER'S WORKSHOP (Plaza2-8377)Pleeease! Anyone who ordered aYearbook or senior photos from theYearbook come and get them8:30-10:30 Mon thru Fri in Ida Noyes218. Phone 753-3562.Leah Hortense Enz It's so hard to saygoodby. Have fun always Thanks foreverything. Your's forever in the dirtydirt. Love, Trojan.SENIORS and others! We're trying toget together a group of people to goskydiving during final week Instruc¬tion is included, and there would be asubstantial discount. Call Doug at241 5431 or Hank at 705 Shoreland.BOULDER We make better musicthan some; inclines or not. All personais after this will be in a foreigntongue J leave it to you to educate theteacherProf HicksIDLE TREAT DEPT : (Att'n-Fac Ex)if you don't get my personals to theMaroon on time, I'm gonna put SuperGlue in your typewriter. Qwerty PSWhere is everyone?13th Law of Gizmatics: You cannot rationally explain being the third car in a 20 car collision, to anyone.GIZMOMich (igan?) Do itashimashite. Tohoeoide no setsu wa, dozo o-tachiyorikudasai. Eji-san wa kurasu de ichibanutsukushii kata desu. Bruce.GROWING orbits, remember? Wehave to be brave about this thing. Butwe can keep a strait face forever? Andanyway, the 'COGITO ERGO HIC' isa big draw. There'll be another, if notme. Someone else. And he will alwayssay to you how the weather neverceases to amaze him. You will smile,knowing it wonderful. AllwaysRocket.ACHTUNG!ENJOY LEARNING GERMAN THISSUMMER! Take APRIL WILSONScourse and highpass the German ex¬am. Starts June 23. 3 sections, M-F.10:30-12, 1-2:30, 6:30-8. To register,call: 667-3038.INTENSIVEGERMANHighpass the German Exam this sum¬mer, study with Karin Cramer nativeGerman PhD using the comparativestructural translation method. Coursestarting June 23 M-F 9-11, 6-8. Call493-8127.MARRIOTT'SGREAT AMERICAGo spinning, soaring, screaming andsplashing-and save! Buy GreatAmerican discount tickets at theReynolds Club Box office and save upto $1.95 per person. Tickets good from5-3 to 7-27 and 8 25 to 9-13.DISCOUNTTICKETSFOR GREATAMERICAYou've read about Rose! You've beenpleased with Plitt! Now marvel at ourdeal on Marriott's Great Americatickets! Check it o7t at your nearestReynolds Club Box Office.UC HOTLINE753-1777Are you partied out? Studied out?Tired out? Down and out? Call us andtalk it out. The UC Hotline-questions,referrals, and someone to talk to 7pm-7am.UC HOTLINENOTICEThe Hotline will be closed for the sum¬mer starting at 7 a.m. Friday, June 13.We will, however, have a tape on withalternate numbers to call. We willreopen in the Fall. Have a good sum¬mer!GRADTICKETSWill buy convocation tickets for Fri-day3p.m. Call 955-5814.PROGRAMMERFORHIREProgrammer fluent in COBOL, PLI,FORTRAN, SPSS, and others seeksfree-lance assignments. Prefer flexi¬ble hours. Call 288-1676.HOUSESITTINGGoing on vacation? A day, a weekend,a week? Will house-sit. Referencesavailable. Call 493-6186, eveningsCREATION MINDThe Rita Warford/Mwata BowdenEnsemble-in concert Friday, June 6 atthe Blue Gargoyle, 57th and Univ. $4.00donation.VACATION HOMEFOR RENTMichiana View Lake Mich, one blockfrom beach, 4 br, 2’/j ba $250/wk avaiiJuly. 624 5978 or 753 8074ACUPUNCTUREFor the summer class, call and leavemessage at 493-1233, 642 2819 or288 6807.EDWARDO'SHyde Park's best pizza Salads andsoda too BYOB, 50c corkage Mon.,Tues., Wed., Thurs., Sun., 4:00 to11:30 Fri., Sat., 4:00 to 12:30 ClosedMon 1321 E 57th St Delivery Service.241 7960$! charge LOST SCORELarge conductors' score to Mahler 5thSymphony disappeared from podiumafter Saturday night's UniversitySymphony Orchestra concert. Impor¬tant to one person only, and she wouldlike it back. If you have the score (orinformation on its where abouts) callthe Dept of Music at 753-2612. No questions asked.WILL PAYFor one ticket to June 14 graduationCall 684-6849ALASKASeeking experienced backpacker(s)interested in traveling through-outAlaska this summer. Call Paul7529538LOU GRANT IIIAndrew Its been real, but may HarperWest collapse on you for mispellingmy name Try using a dictionary as atool next time. Wish you could takeyour lovely weather with you. MUPPETS FOREVER.RossiIMPORTSParty with the Imports to raise fundsfor Int'l People's Arf Fest, Saturday 9pm to 2 am at the Winter Paiace, 5100S. Ellis$l donation at the doorSYMPHONYAUDITIONS: UC Summer SymphonyOrchestra Michael Jinbo, conductor.Works by Prokofiev and Tchaikovsky.Rehersals start June 25. For auditioninfo. Call 753-3923 days or 752-0433eves.MADRIGALS, ETCIf you liked us 4/23 on the quad, comehear us 3-5 pm Sat. Art Fair 57th andKenwood BON TEMPO SINGERSSUMMERACTIVITIESA summer in Hyde Park is not com¬plete without the Hyde Park ArtCenter Classes, exhibits, lectures andmini-courses will be offered at 53rdand Blackstone. Call 947-9656 for in¬formation now.TONIGHTHear Edmund White, author of “Noefurnes for the Kino of Naples" and“States of Desire" read from his newfiction this evening at 8 pm in the IdaNoyes Library.VOCAL RECITALDiane McCullough, mezzo-sopranoEric Weimer, pianist June 14th at 8:30pm. Lutheran School of Theology, 1100E. 55th ST. Adm. $5.GRADUATING?MA OR PA ANALUMNUS?JUNE GRADUATES: Are you theson/daughter of an alumnus? Or of afaculty member? If so, please call theUNIVERSITY OF CHICAGOMAGAZINE, 753-2323 before Graduation.SCHOOL'S OUTWell, almost. Come hear the U of CJazz Band in their last concert of theyear Friday, June 6 5pm Hutch Court. INTERNATIONALPEOPLE'S ARTFESTIVALFundraising party with the ImportsSaturday, 9 pm to 2 am at the WinterPalace, 5100 S. Ellis.PLEASE HELPWill lady owner of small gray terrierwhich bit an oriental boy in the Bixlerlot on May 26 please call 643 2032 Mustcertify proper vaccination of dog orboy will have to receive rabies shotsNIGHTDESKCLERKMidnight till 8 00 am-Switchboard-Pricing of Chits. No experiencenecessary-we train. Quadrangle ClubCall Mr Fulop, 753 3696 or 493-8601.LESTROARMONICOL'estro Armonico will perform a con¬cert of Baroque chamber musictonight, Friday June 6, at 8:30 pm inthe Chicago Theological SeminaryChapel, 5757 S. University Ave. Donation $3.50, students $2 00TRAVELLING?Youth Hostel Cards (Inexpensivehousing throughout the U.S. and 50other countries) and Int'l Student IDCards are available at the Student Ac¬tivities Office, Ida Noyes rm #210.INQUIRY #6Is now available Pick up your copy ofthe Spring Quarter issue in Harper.Reynolds Club, or Ida Noyes.ANDERSON NEW HQ59 E Lake, 346-7979 25000 for III ballotby 8/4 call for more infoBACKYARD SALEGood furniture Oak table w/chairs,beds desks, dressers and more Sat.June 7 or call 684 6566.T-SHIRTSNeed wild and wonderful T-shirts forsummer rampages? Come to the T-shirt Bazaar, today 11:00 1:30 in HutchCourt. (R.C. Lounge in rain.)JAZZ CONCERTCelebrate the end of classes with theU.C. Jazz Band-Friday, June 6 5pmHutch Court.EDMUND WHITEhear writer Edmund White read fromhis new fiction this Friday, June 6th at8 pm in the Ida Noyes LibrarySALES & MANAGEMENTSEMINARADMINISTRATOROur company is a recognized leader in human resourcedevelopment offering training programs for businesses andindividuals We are a fast growing operating company of aFortune 10O CorporationWe have an excellent part time opportunity for an assertive,articulate trainer with sales and/or management exper¬ience; interpersonal discussion facilitator skills are a mustThis position requires 6-9 days per month working asadministrator of sales and management seminars BA. BSor equivalent expenence preferred Please forward resumet0 Mr. C.F. ChalfinJensen Tracy Consultants711 5th Ave.New York, N.Y. 10022^ an affirmative action employer (male female) ^The Chicago Literary Review, Friday, June 6, 1980 — 31Would you believe thatthis man incited 40,000 peopleto riot?§nviDAIIandTEENAGE RADIATIONOpening Act - Acme Thunder, featuring:John Jeremiah, the Aliota Brothers andHarvey MandelTONIGHTIDA NOYES HALL9:15$1 MAB Feepayers$3 Others