There was a great deal of hashish innAmsterdam. The kids called it hashnas though it were as innocuous as andish of chopped meat and potatoesnserved over the counter of a greasynspoon restaurant.nAnd perhaps it was. Marijuana or itsnvarious derivatives was the least concernnof anyone in Amsterdam.nAnd it’s of little concern to the novelist;nindeed, it’s presented as being okay.nLissie, no matter how depraved she acts,nstill comes across as being a good girl,nDaddy’s girl, because she never sticksna needle in her arm. And it’s okay thatnJamie dumps his wife because Joannanreally does love him, and besides, Hunternimplies, just as Lissie and her generationnhad to “find themselves,” Jamiendid, too, and his marriage was just anbum trip. Jamie doesn’t even talk to hisnwife about the marital problems he perceives,nhe just does his own thing.nThe conflict in the novel comes fromnthe father-daughter relationship: Hendoesn’t like her lifestyle, she doesn’tnlike his. He writes her simpering, snivelingnletters; she abuses every trust andnexcoriates everything he loves. Thisngoes on and on. In the penultimatenchapter, Jamie finally tells Lissie thatnhe never wants to see her again. If henhad done that when he should have,nthe book would be about half its length.nBut there is that photo-album inevitability:nno two characters who have beennsympathetically portrayed for some 400npages are going to end up unhappy. Sonas a resolution Hunter rewards thencharacters. No one pays for the painnand suffering they’ve caused. There’s anleap to 1979 and the “new” Jamie andnLissie. He’s more hip and laid back;nshe’s married to a dentist and shops atnSaks (where they accidentally meet).nAll that’s missing is a trailer reading:n”And they lived happily ever after.”nNothing like cheap sentimentality tonclose a novel that’s full of values thatnshine like electroplated 10-K gold lovenbeads on sale at the souvenir shop, nextnto the post cards.nAnother snapshot from 1968; anVictorian-style home on Hill Street innAnn Arbor, not far from the Universitynof Michigan campus. Within residenmembers of the Trans-Love Energiesncommune. If this commune is rememberednin the annals of the counterculture,nit will be for establishing thenWhite Panther Party. As might be assumed,nthe White Panthers were similarnto the Black Panthers; at least theirnbadges were the same, a leaping panther,nthough the color scheme—fornobvious reasons—was different. However,nwhile the Black Panthers spent angreat deal of time being involved innand we demand a free music, a freenhigh energy source that will drive usnwild into the streets of America yellingnand screaming and tearing downneverything that would keep peoplenslaves.nTrick or treat.”nOne of the comments that a membernof The MC5 mutters on this albumn(which includes a song praising then1967 Detroit riots) is “I’m not black,nbut sometimes I wish that I wasn’tnwhite.” That idea apparently got to thenMinisters of the Party, and they realizednthat by so clearly differentiating themselvesnfrom their “brothers,” the BlacknPanthers, they were dooming them-n”[in The Chaneysville Incident] the skill with which the narrator’s attitudes arenchecked and balanced…”n—New York Timesnshootouts when they weren’t flippingnpancakes for their freebreakfast program,nthe White Panthers were nonviolent;nthey were all growl and no bite.nAdmittedly, leading White Panthernmembers would carry rifles and wearnbandoliers, but that had more in commonnwith Halloween than revolution.nOne White Panther had a federal warrantnout on him (this was a rare instancenof violence; he took part in anbombing), and he was caught when henwas stopped for littering.nThe Hill Street establishment wasnbig on rock-and-roll, and it even had itsnown house band. The MC5. The linernnotes to The MC5’s first record albumnwere written by John Sinclair, “Ministernof Information” of the Party. (Sinclairnlater became a minor celebrity in thenhippie world: he was incarcerated fornthe possession of marijuana and no lessna personage than John Lennon came tonDetroit to perform on Sinclair’s behalf.)nPart of the liner notes read:nWe are a lonely desperate people,npulled apart by the killer forces ofncapitalism and competition, and wenneed the music to hold us together.nSeparation is doom. We are free mennnnselves through separation. One solution,nI suppose, would be to stick with thenanimal metaphor and call themselvesnthe Zebra Party. Instead, they callednthemselves the Rainbow Peoples Party,nand they replaced the leaping whitenpanther with a marijuana leaf superimposednover a red star. Drugs and thenViet Cong, that was the ticket. (I’mnsure that if Evan Hunter had knownnabout the group, he would have hadnLissie Croft join it.)nThe Chaneysville Incident by DavidnBradley has absolutely nothing to donwith so-called parties named after animals,nnor does it include a single rockand-rollnband. It is a novel which describesna historian’s search for the reasonnbehind his father’s mysterious death:nwas it suicide, murder or an accident.”nThe approach taken in the novel bringsnto mind a comment made by Robin W.nWinks in the introduction to his ThenHistorian as Detective: Essays on Evidencen(Harper & Row, 1968): “The historiannmust collect, interpret and thennexplain his evidence by methods whichnare not greatly different from thosentechniques employed by the detective,nor at least the detective of fiction.” JohnnWashington, the narrator of Then^^m^mmmmi^mm^nXovember/Deceiiiber 1981n