JL he basic narrative device which distinguished betweenntrash writing and Hterature is found in the motivating force ofnthe characters. In the past, entertainment’s Hterary figuresnwere moved through pages by sentimentaHty or the survivalninstinct; these two ingredients fused nicely into melodrama.nToday, satiation seems the only reason for survival, which, ofncourse, eliminates melodrama. The drive for satiation is annabject basis for existence; its fuel can only be crude sex orngreed for money. The sense of power derived from them has tonbe among the most primitive human feelings. Violence becomesnsurrogate aesthetics: the degree of naturalism and expressionismnin its portrayal is considered the stylistic mark of excellence ofntoday’s pulp writer; and its diversity attests to his or her “talent.”nIn the XVIII century picaresque novel—that time’s leisurenfiction—the most potent device of the writer for engagingnsympathy and attention was the resourcefulness of hisnprotagonist. In the ’70s, atrocity has become the supremenvirtue of the trash author and his “hero.” If we continue alongnthis path, penetrating deeper and deeper the predilections ofnthe youth, the old game of lions contra Christians seemsninevitable as family entertainment in the foreseeable future.nBut are the Robbinses, as repulsive as they are, solelynresponsible for all that.” Have they been left to themselves toncruise uninhibited around the universe of human experiences,nreactions and destinies.” Not to my mind. Rather, they arenmere surface manifestations of deeper forces. They hardlyngrasp them, but they instinctively understand how to milk anfast buck from them. What is at issue is the general humanncondition in the contemporary world. The prevalent liberalnnotion of it, the tenor or flavor of liberal ideas, emphasizes thensociological construction of human vicissitudes, or extols thensuperiority of a social order over a moral order—the routinenliberal, post-Marxian fare for Americans, so difficult tonchallenge in the face of the liberal monopoly of the massmedianand mass culture. They engender a cultural climate innwhich the Susanns and Robbinses obtain a license to do whatnthey want, write what they want, advocate what they want.nNo one would dream of mobilizing a national consensus againstnthem as the liberals would claim that such a social outragenwould abridge their constitutional rights. They take fullnadvantage of this aura, as they are unmotivated by anythingn*If you are not yetnbecome one:n*If you would like to learn more about it:nbut the rapacious “idea” to serve themselves. This could bencontained by a concerted effort from society, but not beforenthe New York Times Book Review ceases to write aboutnSidney Sheldon, one of the trashiest of the lot, in this way:nWhatever his failings as a writer, Sheldon is nolollygagger.nHis research is extensive. It doesn’t matter that his glimpsesnof the houses of the mighty are as revealing as a fourshillingntour of the Tower of London. Sheldon has beennthere and he has done his work. He lavishes love andnaffection on the cliches, which are the building blocks ofnhis writing, until they shine like so many Kohinoors. He isnas diligent in laying out the rickety devices of his plotting asna Japanese sand sculptor. Sheldon is not an author callouslynwriting down to his audience in hopes of picking up a quicknfew hundred thousand dollars. Like Jacqueline Susann,nwho is his spiritual den mother, Sheldon is a writer workingnat the height of his power. There is a passionate sincerity tonhis work that is unmistakable. He really believes this stuff,nand the force of his commitment is powerful enough tondrag us along with him.n1 Lt is doubtful that the New York Times, whatever itsnintentions, will cease to propagate and advertise Sheldon andnhis ilk. The Times pretends to be devoted to objectivity, butnobjectivity is no longer a sufficient weapon in the pandemoniumnof the modern mass culture. It is all too clear that, thanks tonthe specific influence of the media, uncondemned wickednessnmeans wickedness promoted, that what is not forcefullyndenounced as evil becomes evil that is acceptable, if notnencouraged. As our reviewer points out in this issue, thenhighlight of Sheldon’s novel, so benignly lauded in the abovenexcerpt from the Times, involves nailing a woman’s knees tonthe floor. This is enough for me to suspect that the pop trashnliterary entertainment of the last decade has somehow achievednits popularity, wealth, weight and prestige with the casualnsanction of the New York Times and its peers in the liberalnestablishment. Even though the honorable journal wouldnprobably self-righteously reject any responsibility for thenconsequences of such a silent acquiescence.na member or supporter of the Rockford College Institute, and would like tonplease contact:nThe Rockford College InstitutenRockford CollegenRockford, Illinois 61101nTelephone: 815/226-4016nnn—Leopold TyrmandnChronicles of Culturen