a final editing down. It’s the drowningnout of false voices.nThe final distillation of being has somethingnto do with “language is the deepestnmeaning.” Be yourself; that is whatncounts. Get free; become ecstatic. Histrionicsncaused by ecstasy. “A blindnmight” shakes things, and there is no onento blame or credit for the “worst of thenterror.”n1 he terror James Axton comes intoncontact with is the murder cult, whichnhas no purpose except terror and thenbringing of death. Victims are selectednbecause their initials are the same as theninitials of the place where the murder willnbe done. The killings are ritualistic andnarbitrary. The members of the modemdayncult are “secular monks”; they do notnkill for human motives like honor or revenge.nTheir home is the desert becausenit has no history. They do the terrible andndecisive thing—they kill. “They follownyou like a crooked shadow.” The cultnmatches letters only; it intends nothing.nBut it means, nevertheless, that the onlynway to contend with death has becomendeath. These arbitrary killings “mock ournneed to structure and classify, to build ansystem against terror in our souls.” Yet thenmembers of the cult must have been atnone time ordinary people just like Axtonnand his acquaintances. Still, the cultistsndevote their life to producing death. Ournsaving grace as persons is that we know—nalone of all animals—that we will die.n”The final denial of our base reality, in thisnschematic, is to produce a death Anneedless death. A death by system, bynmachine-intellect.”nAll this becomes clear when Axtonndiscovers that he has been unknowinglynworking for the CIA all along. Everythingnabout the cult can now be referrednto the CIA. The CLV is the system gonenmad, an arbitrary death-dealing cult.nOne must work backwards a bit at thisnpoint. “America is the world’s livingnmyth.” As such, it must accommodatenwhat people need. We must absorb “thenimpact of their grievances.” After thisnshrewd analysis, DeLillo arbitrarilynmakes the point that most of their grievancesnare justified. The U.S. is the mostnhighly developed country technologically,nand the people who “bring technologynare the death dealers.” Techniciansnbring new kinds of death withnthem. Kathryn, Axton’s wife, tells himnthat the United States is the theme of thencorruption of the innocent. Americansncontaminate; “the theme of cancer andnits spread.” Although naively believingnin its own innocence, the United Statesnchooses strategy over principle everyntime in its dealings with others. Hence,nthe great significance given to the CIA:nIf America is the world’s living myth,nthen the CIA is America’s myth. All thenthemes are there, in tiers of silence,nwhole bureaucracies of silence, innconspiracies and doublings and brilliantnbetrayals. The agency takes onnshapes and appearances, embodyingnwhatever we need at a given time tonknow ourselves or unburden ourselves.nThe mistake Axton makes, letting himselfnbe used by the Agency, justifiesnKathryn’s bitter description of him asn”politically neuter.” He feels more culpablenthan those who knowingly carriednout their designs. Whatever narrativenthe book contains ends with Axton’s res­nignation. The last word is given to a briefnsection fi-om his son. Tap. Tap, nine yearsnold, writes of a prairie boy who wants tonspeak in the spirit’s voice but catmot. Hendreams of another world, the country ofnhis heart. He wishes to free himself fromnthe dreadfiil woe of the coming world litnby lightetiing. Like Huck Finn, he runs.nHe rutis however to “the nightmare ofnreal things, the fallen wonder of thenworld.” For anyone who ever wonderednwhat happened to Huck, here’s the answernin this pessimistic conclusion.nUeLillo’s naive analysis of what happenednto the promise of America andnthe extraordinary burden he places onnthe CIA as a symbol of our death willnstrike sensitive readers as overdone,nwillful, mistaken, and unfair. Fortunately,nit is much more opaque in thennovel than in the tentative analysis Inoflfer above. The expression of DeUllo’snloss of feith is irresponsible. We Americansnare not the monsters he portrays.nWe are the members (and creators) ofnthe best of the open societies in existence.nOur imperfections appear largernthan they are because our achievementnis so huge. To have what we stand fornsymbolized by the notion of death is annoutrage. DnArt Is Elitist &nOther Impolite ObservationsnPeter Uwe Hohendahl: The InstttU’ntion of Criticism; Cornell UniversitynPress; Ithaca, NY.nby Gary S. Vasilashno ne hundred years ago, Germannwriters such as Goethe and Schiller hadna profound influence on writers in English-speakingncountries. The criticism ofnsuch men shaped, to a certain extent,nt’nMr. Vasilash is associate editor ofnChronicles.nnnthe critical discourse in Britain andnAmerica, to say nothing of their homeland.nPerhaps the only German who hasnan abiding effect on contemporary criticism—^asnwell as on seemingly all else—nis Karl Marx. Marx is always trotted outnfor his views on a particular subject, andnif he didn’t make a direct statement aboutnthe subject in question, then his “interpreter”ntakes one from another topicnand, througji a bit of equivocation, makesnit apply: a monograph entitled “Karl Marxnon 1984” can be expected to emerge atnany moment—^if it hasn’t already rolledn^^13nJuly 1983n