A Cautionary Tale for Adultsnby John Glass, Jr.nAt Lt one point in Lancelot, WalkernPercy’s latest novel, the protagonist andnnarrator, Lancelot Andrewes Lamar,nvisits the set of a movie being made innthe small Southern town in which henlives. Lance’s wife, Margot, has a part innthe movie, and some scenes are beingnfilmed at Belle Isle, the Lamar familynmansion. On this occasion, however, thencrew is set up in town for a scene innwhich the movie’s hero, a “Christ-likenhippie” who has come to revive all thendead folk in the community, liberatesnthe librarian by having sexual intercoursenwith her against a background of novelsnby Dickens, Thackeray, and Scott. Worriednthat Lance may not fully appreciatenthe subtleties of the scene, the directornhastens to explain that the novels representn”the drying up of Western juices.”nHe is terribly excited by the symbolismnof it all: “What we are trying to getnacross,” he informs Lance, “is that it isnnot just screwing, though there is nothingnwrong with that either, but a kind ofnsacrament and celebration of life.” Thenhippie, he adds, “could be a high priestnof Mithras.” The absurdity of all this—nand much more like it—Percy handlesnextremely well. Indeed, Lancelot providesnadditional proof, if any were needed, thatnWalker Percy is a very talented comicnwriternLike all serious comedy, however,nPercy’s has a grim side. The director’snenthusiastic explanations of symbolism—npunctuated by reminders to the actorhippienthat it is vitally important to hearnMr. Glass, a Southerner and an Englishnscholar, by nature takes a reserved viewnof Catholicism’s quandaries in Louisiana.nIS InChronicles of CulturenWalker Percy: Lancelot;nFarrar, Straus & Giroux; New York, 1977nhis fly being unzipped—serve as a kindnof prologue to the most important partnof the episode. After one take, as thenhippie zips his fly and begins to complainnto another actor about bad advice fromnhis broker. Lance catches sight of thenreal librarian, a woman he has known allnhis life. Heretofore an apparently sensiblenwoman, she seems suddenly possessed.nAlmost in tears, she is begging that thencompany use her house for a scene, andnhearing that her plea will be considered,nshe weeps openly and wrings her hands,novercome by gratitude. “I just can’t tellnyou what it means to me,” she sobs. Lancenthinks she has gone mad, but she is notnthe only one. A moment later anothernperfectly respectable matron appears,noffering to do “anything, anything, fornthe company, even carry klieg lights.”nThat ordinary sane people should behaventhis way is, of course, funny; but tonunderstand the special grimness of thenscene, one must realize that women likenthese—sober and respectable spinsters,nwives, and widows—were for long yearsnthe conservators of traditional values andnmores in small Southern towns. Thatnthey, of all people, should be afflictednwith this madness points up emphaticallynthe disruption of our age. This point isnwell made, and Percy himself seemsndeeply disturbed by the madness he hasndiagnosed.nThat madness and its effects are anmajor concern in Lancelot, but the concernnis not a new one for Percy. In threenearlier novels he has examined the predicamentnof modern man and presentednprotagonists who are alienated from thenworld in which they live. The case ofnLance Lamar, however, seems to be thenmost desperate so far Lance tells his storynwhile confined to a cell in the NewnOrleans Center for Aberrant Behavior,nnnor as he himself more simply puts it, “annuthouse;” and much of his time is spentndenouncing the moral confusion of modernnsociety. In the end he utterly rejectsna corrupt world and determines to establishna new order. One is not unsympatheticnto his desire, but there seemsnlittle likelihood of success in such anventure.nLance’s aberrant behavior, the behaviornfor which he is confined to the Center,nincludes a little electronic voyeurism, anmurder, and a rather spectacular bit ofnarson, all part of what he calls a quest fornthe unholy grail, genuine evil. The questnbegins with Lance’s accidental discoverynof his wife’s infidelity, a discovery whichnsobers him—literally—and forces himnto look at himself and his world for thenfirst time in years. But such a quest isnespecially difficult when the prevailingnbelief is that “everything and everyone’sneither wonderful or sick and nothing isnevil,” and Lance in fact concludes thatnhis search has failed, that there “is nonunholy grail just as there was no HolynGrail.” He is mistaken. He does find whatnhe seeks, but he does not recognize then”nothing,” the cold emptiness, he discoversnat the heart of evil.nOn *ne suspects that there will benmany readers who will not like whatnLancelot has to say. Lance Lamar’s denunciationsnof the permissiveness of modernnsociety are harsh and sweeping, but theynare very often just. But many, even ofnthose readers who agree with Lance’snjudgment, may be uneasy about the endnof the novel. For Lancelot is finally anthoroughly Catholic novel, and at thenend Percy offers only two possibilities:neither the violent rejection of the world,nwhich Lance proposes, or acceptance ofna Christian sacramental view.n