er fertile wit, his superb master}’ of thernlanguage, and, if we hang aronnd longrnenough, his insight into human naturernand its relation to eternit}’. You do notrnhae to be nice to deliver these goods; inrnfact, niccness might get in the way. It certainlyrndoes in Wangh’s fiction, where hisrnrogues are infinitely more interestingrnthan his decent characters.rnAs inan have noticed, the tension betv’rneen Wangh’s orthodox and wavwardrnseKes gave his mature fiction its distinctivcKrnbracing character. Now, withrnthe publication of his complete stories,rnincluding the juvenilia and undergraduaternefforts, in one volume, we can seernhow this troubling dialectic was his litcrar-rninspiration from the beginning of hisrncareer onward. It should be noted thatrnmany of tiiese works seem to be warmupsrnfor his longer fiction. Almost all arerner’ good, but with the exception of five,rnthe- are not pure Waugh.rnHis first published fiction in 1926 isrnappropriate] entitled “The Balance.”rnWe meet Adam Doure (no one namedrncharacters better than Waugh) a distraughtrnyoung artist whose failedrncourtship with an equally young lady ofrnaristocratic lineage has turned him suicidal.rn(Waugh was 2? when he wrote thisrnstory, and it reworks his own difficultiesrnin courting Evelyn Gardner, whosernmotiier, Ladv Burghelere, disapproved ofrnhim for all the predictable reasons.) Atrnthe conclusion of a night of wild drunkenness,rnAdam attempts to poison liimselfrnonl to be saed when convulsions forcernhim to vomit the chemical potion out hisrnwindow. When he finally collects hisrnwits, he walks out into the countrysidernand, pausing on a footbridge, has a conversationrnwith his reflection in a pond.rnHe concludes that his romantic tormentrnvas founded on nothing more substantialrnthan a passing dream. His reflection inquires,rn”Is the balance of life and death sorneasily swaed?” He replies, “It is the balancernof appetite and reason. The reasonrnremains constant—flie appetite varies.”rnHe then tells his double that he will de-rnotc himself to his art, with which he villrnattempt “to preserve in the shapes ofrntilings the personalitv whose dissolutionrnyou foresee inevitably…. That is the balance.”rnIt is a young man’s stor)’ done uprnin a self-consciously art}’ manner by havingrnriie narrative told as though it were arnsilent film complete with title cards.rnWithout l^eing a success itself, the workrnindicates the direction Waugh was torntake. The film conceit allowed him tornkeep his narrator calnilv detached fromrnriie emotional turmoil he reports while atrntiie same time indicating a longing forrnsome principle of permanence.rnThere were others who had dejDlovcdrnriie unruffled narrator to comic effect—rnWilde, Saki, Firbank, Wodehouse—butrnWaugh perfected flie device. Reportingrneer}’ possible excess and wayward lunae,rnhis early narrative voice never abandonsrnthe civilized precincts of flawlessl}rnmeasured prose. FA’CU in a trifle like “PeriodrnPiece,” this technique makes somethingrnspecial of his portrait of L,ad}rnAmelia, an elderly widow trained to refinementrnbut inclined to vulgarih.rnLady Amelia had been educated in tiiernbelief that it was the height of iniproprietv’rnto read a novel in flie morning. Now,rnin the twilight of her days, when she hasrnlitrie to occupy die two hours betweenrnher appearance downstairs at quarter pastrn11:0(), liatted and fragrant wifli lavenderrnwater, and the announcement of Imicheon,rnshe adheres rigidK’ to fliis principle.rnOnce luncheon is over, howeer,rnshe feels at libert}’ to indidgc her rcccnfl}’rnacquired passion for American auriiorsrn”in the school of brutal realism and grossrnslang.” As her secretary reads to her inrn”delicately modulated tones enunciatingrnpage by page, in a scarcely comprehensiblernidiom, the narratives of rape and betrarnal, Lady Amelia occasionally elinckle[rns] over her woolwork.”rnIn “Incident in Azania,” Wangh’srnoice manages to walk the border betweenrnciilization and savagerv to wonderfullyrnironic effect. The subplot concernsrnBritish colonists in Africa whornnever let emotion interfere vith goodrnform. When natives bent on extortionrnkidnap a missionary and send his “rightrnear loosely done up in newspaper andrnstring” to the considate, the colonists exhibitrnadmirable restraint. After expres.singrnsome concern,rntiie life of the town began to resumernits normal aspect—administration,rnathletics, gossip; the Americanrnniissionar}”s second ear arrivedrnand attracted little notice, exceptrnfrom Mr. Youkoumian, who producedrnan ear trumpet which he attemptedrnto sell riie mission headquarters.rnNoriiing more is heard of the unfortunaternmissionary until the story’s close, whenrnwe learn in a passing aside riiat his “nowrnmemberless trunk . . . has been found atrnthe gates of the Baptist compound.”rnFaced with this news, the British commandingrnofficer promises to take action.rn”I am going to make a report of riie entirernmatter,” he ganielv declares.rnWaugh frequently set his stories inrnprimitive locales because, as he explained,rnhis literary sense came alive inrn”distant and barbarous places,” especiallyrnat “the borderlands of conllicting culturesrnand states of de’clopnient, wherernideas uprooted from tiieir traditions, becomernoddlv changed in transplantation.”rnThis is not surprising. The .savagery andrncivilization he discovered tiirivingside byrnside on his excursions to Ab}’ssinia,rnKenya, and Brazil were sure to intriguernone so divided between riie appeals of orderrnand anarchy within himself And therncontrast is generally not flattering to F.uropeans.rnWlien a new young lady arrivesrnin izania, she is put through a slv but rigorousrnexamination by tiie eommunity’srnestablished ladies that is far more excruciatingrnthan what flic local nativ e gids mustrnendure in flieirown rites of passage. Asrnthe Sakuya women chanted theirrnprimeval litany of initiation, [a] nornless terrible ceremony was heldrnover Mrs. Lepperidge’s tea table.rnFirst riie questions; disguised andrndelicate over the tea cake butrnquickening in their pace as tiie tribalrnrhythm waxed high . . . fallingrnfcister and fester like ecstatic handsrnon the taut cowhide, mounting andrnFor Waugh, barbarism was never arnmatter of geography or race, as he madernclear in “Out of Depfli.” On a visit tornLondon, a wealthy American meets arnmysterious magician who sends him 500rnyears into the future to discover fliat Englishmenrnhave regressed to riie primitivernlife of tribal hunters. Their rudimentaryrnsocial and economic organization is providedrnwith whatever tenuous stabilih’ itrnhas bv the armed benevolence of Africanrnimperialists who provide not only arnsource of social order bitt also spiritualrnsustenance, as the 20tli-century visitorrnlearns during a reverse “Heart of Darkness”rntrip up riie Thames River. In riicrnwilderness, he detectsrnsomeriiing familiar; a shape inrnchaos. . . someriiing was beingrndone . . . that twenty-five centuriesrnhad not altered. In a log builtrnFEBRUARY 2000/2 5rnrnrn