The Drooling Darling of the NYC CognoscentinJerome Charyn: Secret Isaac; ArbornHouse; New York.nby Louis EhrenkrantznR ichard Kostelanetz wrote thatnJerome Charyn’s fiction “. . . has establishedna solidly developing body ofnachievement.” Saul Maloff has decreednthat Charyn is “a greatly gifted writer.”nThe New York Times promulgated thatn”Charyn’s gifts are the important ones.”nStripped of all extraneous theorizing,none evaluates a novel by applying thenfollowing criteria: Has the writer saidnanything? Has he said it well? Has thennovelist created a literary entity in whichnparts relate to each other in a consistentnmanner, and is the method of communicationnchosen suited to the reality henhas constructed?nIf the writer has been unable to “saynanything,” everything else becomesnmeaningless. All the arcane argumentsnabout the relation of content to formncannot save a novel from oblivion if thennovelist cannot create a reality that isnable to survive, even on its own subjectiventerms. That is why Secret Isaac is andismal failure. There is no observablenconnection between the bizarre eventsnin the story. The characters urinate,nfornicate and murder without motivationsnperceptible to the reader.nIsaac, First Deputy to the Police Commissioner,nand a legendary hero of thenNew York City Police Force disguisesnhimself as a hobo in a “nameless hotelnjust off whore’s row.” The reason isnnever made clear, since all the criminalsnand policemen know who he is. OnlynAnnie Powell, the newest whore innTimes Square, refuses to acknowledgenIsaac’s authority, importance, or evennhis existence. Quite unfortunate, becausenhe falls in love with this lady ofnMr. Ehrenkrantz, a New York Citynradio commentator, publishes and editsnthe Cultural Watchdog Newsletter.nthe night. Annie has a “D” carved intonher cheek by “The King,” DermottnBride. Annie has joined the oldest professionnto pay Mr. Bride the money withnwhich he once bought her before takingnher away to Ireland. Why does Isaacnfall in love with the most unlikely ofnheroines? Why (since Isaac thinks nothingnof beating up or drowning a suspect),ndoes he let the key link in the mob gonduring an interrogation because thenPerhaps he does it because he has anfacility of appearing literary even whilenwriting comic book prose. Isaac identifiesnhimself as “Moses Herzog” in Dublin.nShades of Bellow? John Rathegar,npoliceman on the take from “The King,”ndeposits the money in various banksnunder the names of Leopold Bloom andnGabriel Convoy. Shades of Joyce’s modernism?nHow far is the letter “D” fromnHester Prynne’s “A”? Bellow, Joycen. a unique amalgam of psychological insight and scatological farce.n• Timen’Absolutely fascinating, as was to be expected.”nsuspect has a coughing fit? If Isaac isnthe super detective, why does he learnnof “The King” only when a sleazy pornonmerchant tells him about Bride? (EvennCharyn wonders about that one: “IsaacnSidel shouldn’t have been ignorant ofnthe emperor of Times Square.”) Thenreader never does find out why Isaacnloves Annie or why Annie Powellnwouldn’t apply for a loan from HFCnrather than taking to the streets.nJames Joyce could create a self-containednworld because his reality has anninner referent, the result of a compellingnorganization. Once one knows whatnKafka is about, one can relate the seeminglyndisparate parts of The Castle. Oncenone knows what Charyn is all about, onenturns quickly to a different author.nAnd what is Charyn about? A literarynimpostor, relying on conventions creatednby more serious writers, comes firstnto mind. Almost the entire book ofnSecret Isaac is derivative. When henstands on his own, Charyn relies solelynon stereotyped images to get himnthrough. Where he professes knowledgen—after all, in order to “say something,”none must “know something”—he revealsnignorance. And yet, the criticalnpraise continues. The question is, howndoes he get away with it?nnn—Library Journalnand Hawthorne are not influences tonbe easily scorned. To a critic reviewingnthe novel in the New York Times, itnmight appear dangerous to miss thencoquettishness of the pastiche. The “literary”nimportance of the innocentntravesty is heavily underscored in thentext: “That ‘D’ on her could sting anman’s eyes. That girl’s no goddamnhooker. She was being punished fornsomething she did. Annie’s sin.” SeymournEpstein, in the Sunday Times,npicked this up immediately. “The HesternPrynne of Times Square,” henexplains.nSince any character’s lines could benspoken by any other character, they allnspeak with one voice. A professor’s wifen(he’s a Joyce scholar—naturally) uponnfinding out from Isaac that Annie is anprostitute because of Dermott, who isnone of her husband’s ex-students, says,n”I’ll help you kill the bastard, I swear.nWe won’t tell Marsh. Marsh’s a chickenshit.nI’ll go to Dermott in my raincoat,nget him to visit me in your room. We’llnclub him with a pair of lamps, hide himnunder the bed. How will we git rid ofnthe body?” Such tendencies to violencenoccur to almost anyone and everyonenin the book: “Isaac had a maddeningndrive in him to arrest every pimp atniSlnChronicles of Culturen