The owner of a New York stationerynstore I know scrimped and saved all hisnlife to give his children a liberal artsneducation. His children hate and despisentheir father’s work, for they are surenthey are destined to be Mozarts. Thenfact is that they have no more abilitynto be Mozarts than their father, theirneducated airs and graces notwithstanding.nThe result is twofold. First, an amateurn”literature” (as represented bynPortnoy’s Complaint or Ladies’ Man)nhas resulted from wealth, idleness,nboredom and abundant paper and printingnfacilities. Second, many of thosenwealthy, idle and healthy Americannmiddle-class children who have failedneven to become pop singers or authorsnat the level of the New York TimesnBook Review or the New York Reviewnof Books are frustrated for life. Mr.nPrice belongs to the first category, andnMr. Becker to the second. It would,nperhaps, be worthwhile to supply everynbook like Price-Becker’s with the followingnjacket blurb:n”I am Price-Becker. I am mediocre inneverything. I am an ordinary, common,nboring New York Philistine.n”But this is not all. There are manynmen and women who are not singersnor writers or musicians, and nevernwanted to he, but who smile (and men,nwomen and children around arencharmed), who laugh (and everyone isnin love with them), who gave a dimento the driver of a stalled car to callnthe mechanic (and everyone is movednto tears). I am not that kind either.nI am a New York Philistine who isnalways totally wrapped up in himself,nwho alienates, antagonizes and disgustsneveryone in sight, and thennblames his loneliness and alienationnon his wrong upbringing, his heredity,ncapitalism, commercialism, creepingnfascism, the Pentagon, originalnsin or air pollution.n”So how can I attract attention, love,nadmiration? With bad manners. True,nin the last quarter of a century, thou­nlOinChronicles of Culturensands of boring New Yorkers, posingnas writers, poets, or thinkers, havenbeen doing precisely that. The chancento outdo them is diminishing. Thus,nI must use twice as many once unprintablenwords per page, or, if thisnis too late, I will be coarser than anyonenelse. My sex scenes will be morenlifeless, crude and repulsive than anyone’s,nand I will combine them withnlavatory scenes, or old-age decrepitudenscenes, in such a disgusting waynthat all my rivals, whether associatednwith Rolling Stone, Village Voice, ornNew York Times Book Review, willngasp and turn green with envy. I willnraise even common pornography tonthe second power of vulgarity, so tonspeak. Usually people seek pornographynas a substitute: pornography posesnpathetically as sexual love and triesnto imitate its affection, intimacy andneven beauty (certainly the porno girlsnare advertised as beautiful, not ugly).nI will make pornography all-ugly, allrevolting,nall-inhuman. It will benasexual pornography, so to speak, thenpornography of pornography, if younwill, the kind of pornography no onenwould want if I were a professionalncommercial pornographer.n”I will make myself and whoeverncomes near me as miserable as possible,nI will turn my mind and my lifeninto a cesspool. I will be as disgustingnas a human being can possibly be. Butnthis is my only bid for genius, andnhence fame, love, admiration. Theynwill say that my book is even morenrepulsive than Portnoy’s Complaint.nSo I must be still greater. I am a mannof genius—a new Mozart and a newnThomas Aquinas at once.”nActually, the jacket blurb speaks ofnPrice-Becker “rapidly losing his mind”n(a sheer invention, to give it all a “Dostoyevskianntouch”), of his “excursionninto Hell,” his “living death,” and then”human instinct for loneliness.” Price-nBecker himself also drops hints herenand there to show that bad manners arenabysmally profound, metaphysical,nreligious.nJcimily Dickinson or John Steinbecknwere insincere, for sincerity is bad manners.nPrice-Becker is tremendously sincere.nHe turns his soul, or at least hisnviscera, inside out. And what do wensee in his utmost depths? “I loved hernbadly. Madly. She laid her head on mynchest and I was in heaven.” End of thenparagraph. You see how oceanicallynsoulful (or at least humanly normal)nPriceBecker is deep within, after onenhas gotten through pages of obscenities?nHe is a normal, average human beingnwho can even say normal sentimentalncommonplaces. Why doesn’t he marry annormal, average human girl and stopnpublishing such occasionally sentimentalncommonplaces amidst huge pilesnof ill-mannered trash? What’s the problem,nMr. Price-Becker? Just learn hownto say “Good morning!” and you’ll benall right. Let the New York Times BooknReview market someone else’s bad manners.nBesides, remember that as soonnas the fashion is over, they will forgetneven your name anyway. DnBooks in the MailnThe Principles of Ethics, Volumes I and II by Herbert Spencer; Liberty Fund, Inc.;nIndianapolis. A discourse on ethics by the XIX century individualist philosopher.nWill America Surrender? by Slobodan M. Draskovich; The Devin-Adair Company;nOld Greenwich, Connecticut. A well-documented survey of U.S.-Soviet relations andnthe possible dangers ahead.nA Public Philosophy Reader by Richard J. Bishirjian; Arlington House Publishers;nNew Rochelle, New York. An examination of America’s political philosophy which includesn17 essays by conservative scholars.nWhat It Means to Be Human edited by Ross Fitzgerald; Pergamon Press; Elmsford,nNew York. A collection of philosophical, social and political essays on what constitutesnhuman nature and humanity.nHuman Needs and Politics edited by Ross Fitzgerald; Pergamon Press; Elmsford, NewnYork. A collection of essays which examines the concept of human need and its functionnin structuring government.nnn