in disgrace, but not before he hasndelivered a charming speech which impressesnsome of the conferees and vowednto write a great novel—which, of course,nwe know he does.nJelnhausen is all too transparendynGrass. When Chaucer or Dante appearnin their own works, they are personaendistinct from the author, and theirndownishness or fallibility provides an insightninto the truth that is the artist’ s concern.nGelnhausen is too close to Grass tonbe much more than self-indulgence, anreflection of the young Grass, who feltninadequate among the writers of 1947,nand who went away to write The TinnDrum, which won the Group 47 prize inn1958. If there arc any “rude peasantntruths” (presumably opposed to bourgeoisnlies) uttered by Gelnhausen, I can’tnfind them.nThe same problem applies to thennovel as a whole. Allegory can succeednonly by depending on the reader’snknowledge of the external system tonwhich it corresponds, though it shouldnalso have a life of its own. The danger ofnallegory is that it may be read in a mechanicalnway, like a guidebook which explainsnevery detail along the way. Whennthis happens—that is, when allegory hasnno internal life of its own—reading becomesnthe working out of a puzzle rathernthan an important literary experience.nThis danger is even more real when thenexternal system is restricted in scope; thenreference mThe Meeting at Telgte is not,nsay, the doctrines and concepts of thenhistoric Christian faith (as in Bunyan),nbut the particular political situation ofnpostwar Germany. Grass might denynthat everything in his novel has a one-toonencorrespondence with that situation,nbut the connection is awfully close, andnhis tendency to drift into banality or selfservingnparallelism cripples the novel’sneffectiveness.nThe last straw comes when, at the closenof the meeting, the poets attempt tonwrite an appeal for peace. Grass is appropriatelynironic as he shows their firstndraft to be a hodgepodge of strident,n10nChronicles of Culturenideological rhetoric and self-interestednproposals. Good enough. But their finishednversion, albeit more moderate inntone and demands, sounds like the platformnof the German Social DemocraticnParty. The town of Telgte is halfway betweennProtestant Osnabriick and CatholicnMiinster; or, reading the allegory, betweennthe bourgeois, democratic Westnand the communist East. Grass emphasizesnthat both groups are solidly bourgeoisnand Protestant, but Telgte is a placenof Catholic pilgrimages, and the destinationnof those pilgrimages is a miraculousnMadonna (which one poet visits surreptitiouslynin a barn, where it is hiddennfrom bands of marauding Protestants).nThe god that failed for men like IgnazionDiplomaq^ in the line of FirenFrank J. Devine: El Salvador: EmbassynUnder Attack; Vantage Press*; NewnYork.nby Benno W. VaronnIn the summer of 1979,1 spent a fewndays in San Salvador as the guest of DonnErnesto Liebes, Israel’s Honorary ConsulnGeneral and a coffee exporter. When henmentioned the name of the Americannambassador, I pricked my ears: Frank J.nDevine had been the second in commandnin the American embassy in SantonDomingo for part of the time I was stationednthere as ambassador from Israel.nThat was in the mid-60’s, when PresidentnJohnson decided to land 22,000nMarines in the Caribbean nation thatnhad erupted in a murderous civil war.n*Judging from the publisher’s imprint, AmbassadornDevine could not find one Americannpublisher who would endorse his devastating testimonynagainst the Central American left. He thusnhad to finance the publication of his booknhimself. (Ed.)nMr. Varon, now retired, is aformer newsmannand was Israel’s Ambassador to thenDominican Republic.nnnSilone—that of Soviet communism—remainsnalluring for Gtinter Grass and hisnSDP.nA he gathering at Telgte comes tonnaught: the inn, with the appeal fornpeace still inside, burns to the ground.nThe commentator Leonard Forster claimsnthat Grass is contrasting that 17th-centurynfailure, where circumstances werenoverpowering, with the 20th-centurynsuccess of Richter, Grass and Group 47.nThis would be a satisfying conclusion ifnone could accept that the modern Germannwriters actually are restoring order tonGerman society. But if Grass’s novel isnany indication, the situation is ominousnindeed. •nThose were dangerous days for foreignndiplomats, and the danger created anbond among those who were caught innthe events, and I was delighted at thenprospect of seeing my colleague again.nMr. Liebes accompanied me. I noticednsome guards standing at the entrance tonthe embassy residence, but I can’tnremember anything ominous in the ensuingnconversation. Of course. AmbassadornDevine knew that I was an oldnhand in Latin American affairs, and thatnwhatever he mentioned would fall undernwhat is called in Spanish losgajes del officio,nthe unpleasantnesses that go withnthe job. He seemed remarkably calm, ancivil servant who was doing his duty withoutnany attempt at dramatizing his situation.nOne month after my departure, I receivednword that Ernesto Liebes had beennkidnapped by leftist terrorists. At thentime they were called just that. This denominationnchanged when their hitand-runnoperations led to a full-fledgedncivil war; they were upgraded to guerrillas.nMr. Liebes’s kidnapping was partnof a fund-raising operation: the Salvadorannterrorists filled their war chest bynexacting ransoms from kidnapped busi-n