hasn’t been written about Washington.nBy “similar,” I mean a book thatnattempts to capture the dynamics ofnWashington life. There are dozens ofn”Washington novels” published eachnyear, but most of these only deal withnthe political world. This is a singlemindednessnparticular to our era; authorsnin comparable periods of historyndid not restrict themselves to politics.nIn other periods everything but politicsnwas fair game. Suetonius, full of courtngossip, was a popular author in firstcenturynRome, but few Romans attemptednto imitate him. In EdwardiannEngland the politician was as absentnfrom English novels as the businessmannis in contemporary American fiction.nWhy are “Washington novels” thendominant form of fiction about thisncity? The answer to this question requiresnanother question, one first posednby Gavin Stamp in The Spectator.nTake any large metropolitan area.nWhere in that area can you find residentsnwhose families have lived in theirnhomes for three generations?nIn most large American cities, includingnNew York, that question cannbe easily answered. In Baltimore, fornexample, the deepest-rooted familiesnare in the working-class neighborhoodnof Hampden and the upper-crust RolandnPark. In Philadelphia, the elitesnstill live in the “Main Line” suburbs tonthe northwest.nM O VnrnI N G ?nLET US KNOW BEFORE YOU GO!nTo assure uninterrupted delivery ofnChronicles, please notify us in advance.nSend change of address onnthis form with the mailing label fromnyour latest issue of Chronicles to;nSubscription Department, Chronicles,nP.O. Box 800, Mount Morris, Illinoisn61054.nNamenAddressnCitynState Zip-n8/CHRONICLESnWashington has a few families whonhave been in town for generations, innthe older suburbs of Alexandria andnKensington as well as in Georgetownnand the “Gold Coast,” a black neighborhoodnbordering Howard University.nBut these families are exceptions rathernthan the rule. In general, Washingtoniansnare mobile.nThis is partly because Washingtonnhas grown dramatically since FranklinnRoosevelt’s taste for centralized governmentnmade the city a boom townnfor bureaucrats, partly because Washingtonnhas never had any major industrynbesides government. The ties thatnbind both workers and owners to anplace are absent. Families may producengenerations of bankers or factory workers,nbut I’ve never heard of a familynthat produced generations of civil servants.nSo it is that the communities that donform in Washington are based on tastenrather than tradihon. Wealthy lobbyists,nthink-tank heads, and veteran journalistsnlive in Cleveland Park. Youngntrendies — “Style” section writers,nstaffers for environmental groups, andnpublic-interest lawyers — live innAdams-Morgan. Administrative assistantsnand policy analysts live on CapitolnHill.nWashington is rigidly segregated,ndespite being two-thirds black, andneven though segregation is the result ofncustom rather than law. Not only arenthere relatively few blacks in the city’snelite professions, but few whites visitnthe black regions of the city. Commutersncan get to their offices without sonmuch as passing through predominantlynblack areas. The incident that beginsnBonfire of the Vanities — ShermannMcCoy’s missing a freeway exit andnending up in a black neighborhood —nwould not happen in Washington.nBut I think the main reason whynWashington has no Bonfire to call itsnown is because most Washington novelists,nlike most novelists, write aboutnwhat they know. Given the sharp demarcationsnin the city of race andnwealth, and given the lack of authenticncommunity life, Washington novelistsnwrite about people largely like themselves—nrootless consumers (or producers)nof information. I may benwrong; the “Washington novel” couldnjust be another market created by NewnYork publishers. I don’t believe, howev­nnner, that editors on Park Avenue are sonnarrow-minded that they insist thatnWashington novelists never have charactersnstanding in unemployment linesnor dying of crack overdoses.nWill “Washington novels” ever expandntheir horizons to include thenworld in which most Washingtoniansnlive and work? I predict that the firstnperson to write a realistic novel aboutnDC will be a mystery novelist, who willnuse our recent wave of drug-relatednkillings as a vehicle for exploring thensocial dynamics of the city. Washingtonnmay never have its Tom Wolfe,nbut the city is ready for its RaymondnChandler.n—Martin Morse WoosternEDWARD ABBEY, a novelist, essayistnand sometime ranger and firenlookout with the National Park Service,ndied on March 14 at his home nearnOracle, Arizona.nBorn 62 years ago in Home, Pennsylvania,nafter World War II he discoverednthat there is life beyond the EastnCoast, and, since 1947, he had beennresiding in the Southwest.nAbbey, whose idols included Rabelais,nKnut Hamsun, B. Traven, Celine,nand Beethoven, wrote books on travelnand adventure, peppered with philosophicalncommentary, that took issuenwith most of the “givens” cherishednby unreconstructed liberals andnneoconservatives alike (he was oncendescribed by a “liberal” reviewer asn”puerile, arrogant, xenophobic andndopey” after he confessed, as an asidenin one of his books, to believing “thatnmass immigration from the LatinnSouth — or from any other source — isnnot a good thing for the workingnpeople and material well-being of thenUnited States”).nHis books included The Brave Cowboyn(1956), later made into a film bynDalton Trumbo, Lonely Are the Brave,nstarring Kirk Douglas, Desert Solitairen(1968), The Monkey Wrench Gangn(1975), The Journey Home (1977),nAbbey’s Road (1979), Good Newsn(1980), One Life at a Time, Pleasen(1987), and The Fool’s Progressn(1988). He had completed the longawaitednsequel to The Monkey WrenchnGang shortly before his death. It is duento be published next winter.n— Wayne Luttonn