In short, we have to lament the metaphor’snliterary and political influence.nTo write an entire book around such antheme would be to cram truth into annill-fitting straitjacket; and it is greatlynto Mr. Lapham’s credit that he has writtennnothing of the sort. What he hasndone is something less pretentious andnmore interesting—namely, he hasncollected a number of his favorite essaysndown the years, mostly from hisnown magazine, Harper’s, pressed themnbetween hard covers and given the resultna fancy name. Fortune’s Childnis not bad as such names go, but thenbook might equally well have been entitlednFool’s Paradise or The BrigandnUrge. If anyone contests this, he mightnexplain how Mr. Lapham’s very funnynaccount of how the musical comedynKelly coasted to first-night catastrophe,nor his atmospheric report of a Miaminmurder trial, or his sympathetic portraitnof a courageous soldier, fit into thenannounced theme. Clearly they do not;nequally clearly they are among the bestnessays in the book.nIf the essays vary in quality, the reasonnshould not surprise an editor of Mr.nLapham’s experience. He conforms tonthe old saw that we write best when reportingnsomething we have witnessednor when discussing a subject we knownwell. In particular, he is an excellent reporter—vivid,nfunny, with an ability tonevoke atmosphere and a good ear for thenquotation that establishes character. Onensuch quote, from his sardonic accountnof the Beatles’ pilgrimage to the Maharishi,nprecisely catches the common sensenof the least “intellectual” Beatle:nthe flies had begun to settle on thenfood .. . but the Maharishi told themnthattopeople lost in their meditations,nthe flies no longer mattered verynmuch. ‘But,’ said Ringo, ‘that doesn’tnzap the flies, does it.”nAnd on the press, recent Americannfilms, the moral legacy of the slaventrade, the confusion between pornographynand free speech and much else, henwrites with knowledge, clarity and ankind of sharp reasonableness. Of journalists,nfor instance, he shrewdly remarksnthat they often seek refuge in “anfanciful prose style that conceals theirnown lack of information.” Alas, thatnis the very problem with other essaysnin the collection. There are several innwhich cloudy inexactness and multiplyingnabstractions suggest an embattlednMr. Lapham, alone at his typewriter,nseeming to hear time’s winged chariotnhurrying near in the shape of tomorrow’sndeadline. Perhaps he has spent four pagesnand much ingenuity on an idea that isnturning out to be a dead end? No matter.nIt is too late to start again. He must pressnon through the mists to the uninspirednclimax. We thus get such sentences as:n”The sense of time falls in upon itself,ncollapsing like an accordion into the evangelicalnpresent… nothing can exist, becausenanything so foolish as to make itselfnvisible must submit to the passage ofntime.” Nor is this quotation unfairlynwrenched from its context. One essaynconsists of nothing but four pages of thisnkind of rambling. It purports to show thatnAmerica is a nation of dreamers, but itsnactual effect is reminiscent of sitting innan examination hall, bereft of any relevantninformation but trying to spin outna one-sentence idea into the requirednfive-page answer.n1 hen there is Mr. Lapham’s logic.nAll too often his methods of controversynare argument by allusion and proof bynsweeping gesture. Sometimes these resultnin a statement so clangingly perversenthat a refutation is scarcely necessary.nHe blithely asserts, for instance, that althoughnPresident Nixon had revealednan aggressive disorder of mind both innhis Checkers speech and in his speechnto the press upon losing the 1962 Californiangubernatorial election, “none ofnthese confessions could be admitted asnevidence of Nixon’s instability.” Onenexclaims “Eh, what.'” and reads the passagenagain for clues to hidden subtlety.nBut no, it must be a careless equestrianngesture, born of the knowledge that nonone holds the rich to account for theirnnnsins against reality.nOther logical follies are less blatantnand their ramifications have to be traced.nIn the course of arguing that great nations,nnotably America, and respectablencorporations use criminal methods as anmatter of course, Mr. Lapham cites thenfollowing proof:nIn Vietnam theU.S. Army encouragesna tactic of indiscriminate murder andnfinds, after a prolonged investigation,nthat the entire burden of guilt restsnwith Second Lieutenant WilliamnGalley.nBut, surely, I interject in my woodenmindednand literal way, Lieutenant Calleynwas not found guilty of every warncrime committed in Vietnam.’ He wasnconvicted of a specific act—the murdernof unarmed and unresisting villagers,nincluding women and children, at MynLai. And if the perpetrators of such ancrime had not been prosecuted, surelynthat would have been good cause to accusenthe Army of “encouraging a tacticnof indiscriminate murder”.’ Perhapsnother such crimes were concealed withnthe connivance of the entire U.S. militarynestablishment.’ But, to be convinced,nI should require more solid evidencenthan the impressions of a mannwho believes that President Nixon’sn1962 speech, in which he promised thatnthe press would not have Dick Nixonn”to kick around anymore,” was neverncited as evidence of his psychologicalninstability.nWe have, then, something of a mysterynon our hands. Why are sharp andnwell-argued essays followed by vaguenrhetorical word-spinning.’ Haste and thendeadline are surely insufficient explanations.nAre we not given a clue by Mr.nLapham’s invention of the equestriannclass—a device that enables him tonattack people of different and even oppositenopinions as if they were somehownidentical in all important respects.’nVagueness and lofty abstraction performna similar function. All are devicesnto protect Mr. Lapham from the vulgarnnecessity of taking sides in political dis-ni^^m^^^tlnMarch/April 1981n