COMMENDABLESnTender TransmutationnA. G. Mojtabai: Autumn;nHoughton Mifflin; Boston.nby Joseph SchwartznAutumn is a shy novel, itsnbrevity a sign that it does notnwish to call itself too insistentlynto our attention. Its shortness isnalso an indication of Miss Mojtabai’snstyle—the use of suggestionnto create overtones, thingsn”divined by the ear but not heardnby it”: WiUa Gather’s novelndemeuble. Of all styles open tonthe writer, it is the riskiest to use.nTo heighten our sense of the inexplicablenbut abiding mysterynand charm of the real by suggestionnalone remains the most arduousnstyle to achieve. 1 catmotnsay that Miss Mojtabai has beennaltogether successful, but I amnwilling to applaud the risks shenhas taken and to commend hernwork.nOne of her most tantalizingnrisks is the use of a taciturn firstpersonnnarrator. Will, now retired,ntells his own story, andnwhat he has to say must be, in anmanner of speaking, forced outnof him. The structural method isnscenic, probably cinema-scenicnrather than novel-scenic; verynshort tableaux are carefully orchestratednso as to move withnsystematic force toward climaxnand conclusion. The prose, as itnshould, disappears in the telling.nThe novel speaks of being old,nalone, and disappointed and eschewsnthe conventions of melodrama.nWill and his wife had theirnretirement all planned, exceptnDr. Schwartz is a professor ofnEnglish at Marquette University.n38inChronicles of Culturenfor her unexpected death. Alonennow for five months. Will is determinednto stay at his vacationnhome year-round. He nevernplanned on being alone; he findsna newspaper headline to be aptlyndescriptive of his own life:nUNIVERSE MAY BE COLLAPS­nING. “Where am I?” Will cries.nHe and his wife had been happy.nHis relationship with his onlynson, married and far away, is nonlonger a good one.nWhy didn’t I enjoy him morenand when did I last? I haven’tnchanged, I don’t think, but henhas. Once he was loving,npert, sharp as a tack.nWUl himself had been an “armynbrat,” constantly on the move,nonly two years in each post. Hen”always wanted to stay put,” havingnlost his pals because of thenfamily’s mobility. Staying put hadna good deal to do with the strongnrelationship he had with hisnwife, and now with no one. Hentries without success for a seriousnrelationship with a widow. “Inwant to be looked after… that’snwhat I miss.” But she cannotnbreak through the wall he hasnbuilt around himself; she cannotntake his late wife’s place. “Wenpush into each other’s Uves,” andnnothing comes of it but “backingnup.”nIn his son’s tree house WUlndiscovers a teenage boy asleep.nA runaway? Someone on a journeynand simply resting? Possibly,nperhaps, an imaginative projectionnof his great need to looknafter someone as well as to benlooked after? The young strangernis described as sleeping like anbaby in the tree house shortlynafter WUl remembers how henwould put his ear to his wife’snstomach when his son was insidenmaking a sound “like somebodynknocking.” What remains of thisnmeditative novel is concernednsolely with WUl’s discovery ofnanother who can stand for hisnwife and son, someone who answersnhis need to cure his loneliness.nThe stranger does notnwaken in Will’s presence, andnwhen Will falls asleep whilenwatching him, he disappears.nBloody or ghostly, the stranger isngone. Just as surely as autumn isna prelude to winter, so some sortnof letting go precedes our dying.nLUce every man, WiU must let go,nalbeit reluctantly, the thingsnwhich tied him to the earth; hisnhome, his wUe, his son, his possessions.nRecognizing mutabUity,nhe sheds things. The stranger, anIN FocusnImpolite ImpressionsnWilliam B. Helmreich: WenThings They Say Behind YournBack: Stereotypes and thenMyths Behind Them; DouWeday;nNew York.nby Frank WaltersnA graduate student in thenhumanities will go out of his waynto avoid stereotyping a racialnminority and so think himselfnnot a racist. Our cultural ethosndemands that we view racesnequally in every way, which reducesneach race to sarneness.nWilliam B. Helmreich offers ancorrective to such lightweightnthinking by asserting that races,nethnic cultures, and other discretengroups of humans do pos-nMr. Walters is a technical urrlternand former English teacher.nnntranscendental visitor 1 think, isndark and cold. The angel of death?nWUl is tired: “FU lie down onlynfor a minute” before the journeynand “rest.”nWhen Will “awakens” no onenis there. “Ho^v dark it is … .nSomeone out there calling mynname?.. . Hello? I’m here.” Thisnevocative ending brings to mindnone of Theodore Roethke’s finernpoems, “Meditations of an OldnWoman.” When she experiencesnintimations of mortality, she toonchallenges mutabUity with thencry, “I’m here.” It is a toweringncry of identity only if there isnsomeone to hear it to whom ournidentity makes a difference.nThere are “so many stories forngrowing up,” Will says, “and nonenfor growing down. How come?”nMiss Mojtabai has done her bestnto correct that imbalance. Dnsess features unique to themselves.nBut his book also exemplifiesnmany of the flaws commonnto liberal inquiries into man andnhis habits. Though Helmreichnobserves the principle that seriousninquiry must separate fact,ntheory, and conclusion, he weakensnhis analysis by embracingnpopular and deceptive definitionsnof important terms and by borrowingnsome of the trendy theoriesnof sociology’s more spuriousnpronouncements on humannbehavior.nWhat we usuaUy mean by stereotypingnis closer to a moderndaynrevision of the Socratic “knownthyself” Man’s first topic in philosophynwas the self, and therenhe found a nature common to aUnmen, i.e., specific traits of actionnand appearance. According tonprevaUing interpretations, thesen