faith gives to ordinary life, but he decidesnagainst it, choosing instead thenrealm of “freedom” and “reaEty.” White’sncritique is cheap and evasive: he showsnthe Scotts to be hypocritical, governednby the same Hobbesian passions as everyonenelse in this melange.nThe conclusion of A Boy’s Oiim Storynmakes explicit the disturbing logic underlyingnthe novel’s action. The heron(he never gets a name: presumably he isnsomething of a homosexual Everyman)nis initiated into “adulthood” by a finalnsymbolic act: he gives sexual gratificationnto a pot-smoking teacher againstnwhom he has secretly informed with thenidea of getting him dismissed. It is an actnof absolute power over another, a waynof getting back at the men who refuse tonlove him. This is exactly paralleled innthe way White concludes the story: justnas the title is a parody of the Victorian/nEdwardian boy’s novels, so White parodiesnthe traditional ending where the futurenhistories of the boy’s companionsnare briefly related. He kills oif several ofnthe characters in grisly ways, and revealsnMr. Scott’s torrid homosexual alto withnhis priest. Both White as novelist and hisnfictional champion commit acts of aggression,nvaguely directed at “society” orn”morality” or just “men.” The usual antithesisnis wrong: the opposite of love isnnot hate; it is power. But then usual andnconventional beliefs don’t hold in thisnbook. White’s novel only serves to perpetuatenand legitimize the tragic conditionnof homosexuality.nJohn Updike’s books come forthnmuch like Solomon’s children: we admirenthe fecundity of the masters, but arendubious about the attention their offspringnreceive. Bech is Back consists of anloosely connected group of stories continuingnthe adventures of the Jevnshnnovelist Henry Bech that began in Bech:nA Book. Bech provides Updike with anwry, ironic consciousness through whichnhe can engage in humor and satire. PoornBech is whisked all over the globe by hisncreator in this comic grab bag: the religiousntourist attractions of Israel, then28inChronicles of Culturencultural pretensions of Third-Worldnnations, the vulgarity of Canada and Australia,nthe inanity of upper-middle-classnsuburbia, all these come under thenscrutiny—for what it’s worth—of HenrynBech.nInsoiar as there is a common themenrunning through Bech is Back, it is thenrole of the novelist in contemporarynAmerica. It is a question which Updikenmust have put to himself in private, andnone on which he expends some levity innthis public display. For some time Bechnhas produced no fiction (winning himnthe Melville Medal for the American authornwho has maintained the most meaningfiilnsilence ); no substantive reason fornhis quietism is provided. In the longestnchapter, “Bech Wed,” the Jewish intellectualnNew Yorker’s frustrations withnthe distractions and trivialities of Gentilensuburbia are displayed. The result ofnBech’s marriage to Bea Latchett is hisnwriting of Think Big one of those fatnpaperbacks New Yorkers read in subwaysnand Chock Full O’Nuts restaurants:nsex, money, intrigue, and more sex for anthousand time-passing pages. On onenlevel Think Big is Bech’s reaction to thenvulgar world of his wife, but Updikenshows Bech at work on the novel beforenhis marriage. Updike never takes the effortnto explain wty Bech writes thennovel and from what causes it springs.nThere is a clue, though: Bech plans tonfollow Think Big with Easy Money.nWhat holds Bech is Back together isnsolely the surface tension maintained bynUpdike’s mastery of style and comicnsense. Beneath its surface the book isnhollow, a plasterboard wall concealingnonly structural studs that are unevenlynplaced. It may be unMr to ask for morenfrom a light satire, but to a culture in dissolution,nas ours is, light satire can actnnot just as comic relief but as a generalnanaesthetic. We are certainly justified innasking for a little intellecmal substancenbelow the satire.nStanley 1n’ Elkin’s George Mills is one ofnthose frustratingly good novels whosenparts are superior to the whole, Elkin is annnpowerful contemporary practitioner ofnthe novel. His originality derives notnfi-om trendy tinkerings with narrativenform, but firom a compelling personalnstyle and the timeless virmes of beingnable to tell a story, draw living characters,nand create the illusion of life itself Elkin’snprose is reminiscent of WyndhamnLewis’s: syntax can become a vehicle ofnmeaning in the texts of both. Elkin is farnfrom being a realist in the traditionalnsense of the word; his characters oftennspeak a heightened diction which is dramaticallynappropriate, lifting the storynonto a symbolic plane. It is refireshing tondiscover a true craftsman at a time whennthere is so much artiness and so little art.nGeorge Mills is a hefty object, Victoriannin size ( 500 pages) and in the use ofna single character’s name as title, whichnpresages the examination of that life.nHowever, George Mills is a compositenfigure: the title represents a male line ofnMillses stretching from the Middle Ages,nall of whom possess the same “bluecollar”nmentality. Elkin’s use of thisnmetahistorical character is daring, butnultimately fruitless. It is meant to symbolizenthe blue-coUar frame of mind thatnjustifies its own subservience to the rulersnof society, and the Millses do developna philosophy to protect themselvesnfrom having to act and take their destinyninto their own hands. The central formulationnof this idea comes in this commentnon one of the Millses:nHe still believed in his late, you see,nstill saw himself in the myth victim’sndelicious position, squeezed dry ofnforce to change tiis life, with his eyenon all the eleventh hour opportunitiesnthat could change it for him. Almost,nas it were, on fate’s side, confidentnhe’d broken the code, taking the positionnthat destiny had its fine print, oraclenits double entendre, that whatevernhappens to people is a trick—God’snfast one.nIn the last George Mills, the main characternof the novel, this attitude is whatnhe considers to be his “state of grace.”nThe trouble with all this is that legitimatendescription of a single charactern