regarding Garrett’s critieism, in fact, isrnthat it too often gives the impressionrnthat the author has never met a book—rna novel especially—he didn’t like.rnWhere Professor Garrett (in my opinion)rnerrs, he is led astray chiefly by mellowrnover-generosity: George Garrett emphaticallyrnis not the John Simon ofrncontemporary literary critics. Thernphrase “one of our very best writers”rncomes too trippingly at his call, whilernhis assessment of Bobbie Ann Masonrn(for instance) as “an artist who is beginningrnto show a potential for major accomplishment”rnis ludicrous. (A singlernsentence quoted by Garrett from Mason’srn”Private Lies”—”Now they wererncalled hairdressers, or better still, cosmetologists,rnwhich sounded like a grouprnCad Sagan would be president of”—tellsrnyou all you need to know about the “art”rnof Bobbie Ann Mason.) How can a criticrnwith so rare a literary palate recommendrnMs. Mason’s work even as anrnaperitif to the 12-course meal preparedrnby his literary hero, William Faulkner?rnThe answer is precisely that you do havernto have some fun at this game.rnIn addition to being a critic, GeorgernGarrett is a novelist, playwright, andrnteacher, busy with wider occupationsrnthat have naturally and inevitably setrntheir stamp on the criticism itself. Garrett’srncritical writing is never academic inrnthe usual and pejorative sense of thernword, substituting as it does a poet’srnimagination and intuition for the desiccatedrnpedantry of the literary scholar. Itrnis, however, pedagogical, meaning thatrnthe motivating intent of the critic isrnidentical to that of the professor—tornmake the subject of discussion as interestingrnas possible to an audience most ofrnwhich can be safely assumed to have littlernor no prior concern for the material.rnNo latter-day professor of English or creativernwriting can permit himself the luxuryrnof restricting the syllabus to goodrnauthors and valuable literary work; thernZeitgeist compels him to include thernpopular and the topical even when it isrnmeretricious, or at best mediocre. But ifrnyou must teach Barth and Vonnegut andrnMason and Ann Beattie, you cannot dornit without gusto and enthusiasm, nornmatter how false and auto-inspired. Andrnit cannot be easy, when class is over, simplyrnto shut off that enthusiasm in thernprivacy of your study, face-to-face with arntypewriter and a deadline.rnWhat matters, since Garrett apparentlyrnhas no ambition to reconstituternthe Western literary canon on his own, isrnnot that he is capable of overpraising undeservingrnwriters but that he is a brilliantrnexegcte of the work of good andrnsuperior ones, as well as of those whomrnhe professes “the masters.” His essay “ArnMatter of Style in ihe Great Gatsby”rn(“Thus behind its seemingly bland andrnpolite surface, Gatsby is, in many ways, arnwildly experimental novel, a trying outrnof what would become familiar, if morernvarious, strategies of our serious literaturernand, especially, of the range of ourrnliterary language”) is a freshly originalrnpiece of criticism that should interestrnMatthew Bruccoli, while M. E. Bradfordrnmight be suitably impressed by Garrett’srn”The Influence of William Faulkner,”rnas well as by his essays concerningrnFaulkner’s eariy poetry and literary reviews.rnPerhaps the virtuoso piece of therntwo volumes is the result of a first-classrnliterary sensibility applied to a secondclassrnliterary work that is nonetheless thernproduct of a genuine writer. “My SilkrnPurse and Yours,” originally publishedrnin 1968 by the Hollins Critic, is arnlengthy essay-review of Making It, thernnotorious autobiography of the youthfulrnNorman Podhoretz that in retrospectrnappears to have been a prophecy of therncult of literary celebrity that prevails inrnAmerica today and that has become thernsine qua non of artistic reputation andrncommercial success. “Though MakingrnIt appears to be a simple-minded fabliau,”rnGarrett concludes,rnit is more complex and more fabulous.rnThe “real” Norman Podhoretz,rnthe author of the book,rnhas created an allegory of pilgrimage.rnBut it is a false pilgrimage.rnThe protagonist arrives at what isrnclearly Babylon and is fooled byrnthe “Welcome to Jerusalem”rnsigns. There he is, up to his kneesrnin the Slough of Despond andrntrying to make the best of it becausernall the maps say this is thernDelectable Mountain. In his innocencernhe wants to believe andrndo right. Innocence is the key torncharacter. He is the bumblingrnnaif of great satire.rn”Ladies in Boston Have Their Hats”rn(My Silk Purse and Yours), having describedrnWASP humor as “complex, incorporatingrnmany of the primal WASPrnassumptions and attitudes . . . even asrnit ridicules much that is most characteristicrnof WSP society,” goes on to identifyrnTom Wolfe’s work as the reaction ofrnan upper-middlc-class Southern WASPrnto the vulgarity and hypocrisy of NewrnYork City. The insight is important beyondrnits immediate critical validity, sincernGarrett—in “The Star System” andrn”Once More Into the Breach, DearrnFriends, Once More”—presents an essentiallyrnWolfean view of the New Yorkrnpublishing and literary world that Wolfernhimself has so far not shown the couragernto write about, though he long ago dispatchedrnthe New York art establishmentrnfrom which he stands at a safe remove.rnIf George Garrett had qualms aboutrnrazzing the dispensers of his own contractsrnand advances, it doesn’t show.rnThe “stars” of contemporary Americanrnwriting, he insists, are generally speakingrnno better—and no worse—than thernrun of their unsung and unpaid fellowrnwriters, being more or less the beneficiariesrnof luck, publicity, and aggressivernhype by their editors and publishers.rnAnd in “Southern Literature Here andrnNow,” he attacks the “system of artificialrncelebrity which no longer describes arnreal condition in the literary world . , .rn[i]f it ever did . . . [but which] coincidesrnwith the commercial and self-servingrnaims of publishers and the whole peripheryrnof professional intellectualsrnaround them.” Garrett even argues thatrn”the concept of the master artist” is exactlyrnthat, a conceit from which the writerrnhimself acquires a model and thernscholar an image, while “the critic acceptsrnthe notion of a few masters, surroundedrnby a crowd of apprentices andrnjourneymen, because it makes publicrn5Jrncriticism, as it is understood, possible.”rnThe process by which the old Republicrnof Letters has been supplanted by thernnew literary Versailles-on-Hudson is simplyrnanother of the many examples ofrnhow America in the past century hasrnbeen transformed from a democracy intornan oligarchy under cover of a rhetoricalrnblanket celebrating “democratization,”rnGeorge Garrett—Professor ofrnCreative Writing at the University of Virginiarnand recipient of many prestigiousrnliterary grants and awards—is enough ofrnan establishmentarian to have witnessedrnthe process firsthand, and enough of arnrepublican at heart to denounce and deplorernit. crnMARCH 1993/27rnrnrn