Fast Mental FoodnWilliam F. Buckley, Jr.: MarconPolo, if You Can; Doubleday&Co.;nNew York.nby Becki KlutenWhat is America’s answer tonJames Bond up to now? In WilliamnF. Buckley, Jr.’s latest, thenredoubtable Blackford Oakesnsteps into fictional shoes thatnwere worn in real life by FrancisnGary Powers. We are back withnour old friends (CIA spooks all)nand lovers from Buckley’s firstnthree spy novels, and Blacky is innfine form. Having been involuntarilyn. .. ah. . . disengaged fromn”the service” at the end ofnWho’s on First, he is reluctantlynreinstated to assist in OperationnTango—crucial to U.S. security.nAnd of the plot I’ll say no more,nas I consider reviewers (and anyonenelse) who prematurely revealnthe workings of a mystery to benof the most despicable sort.nMarco Polo is a fast-paced,nwell-balanced melange of glamor,nsex, suspense and ideologyn(not necessarily in that order).nIt^s obvious that Mr. Buckleylikesnhis hero. He has madenBlackford Oakes into everythingnBuckley himself might havenbeen, could have been, perhapsneven wanted to be. Oakes maynbe Buckley’s “road not taken.”nAnd the reader, too, can hardlynhelp but like Blacky Oakes.nIt’s apparent that Buckley hasnfun with this kind of writing: hencan indulge his tongue-in-cheeknstyle to his heart’s content. I’llnbet he makes wagers with him-nMrs. Klute is on the editorialnstaff of the Chronicles.nCOMMENDABLESn34inChronicles of Culturenself as to how many of his readersnwill be familiar with the obscurenwords he slips in from time tontime. And since a novelist is allowednto invent his own props,nwe discover such contraptions asnthe “Zapp microdot machine.”nLike Alfred Hitchcock, Buckleyncan’t resist appearing in hisnown creations. Even without thenbiographical similarities betweennB. Oakes and W. F. Buck­nley, a reader will not likely forgetnthe name of the man who wrotenof Blackford Oakes that he “begannto read Buckley’s Up FromnLiberalism. But his mind wandered.nHardly Buckley’s fault.”nMarco Polo, like Saving thenQueen, Stained Glass andnWho ‘j- on First, is a “fun read.”nMr. Buckley reaches with it anbroader, and probably different,naudience than he does withnhis magazine, syndicated columnsnor TV program. And hisnchosen vehicle for conveying hisnideology is certainly more polishednthan that of his compatriiotsnMoss and De Borchgrave.nMarco Polo, though, seemsnshorter than the others. It isnrumored that Mr. Buckley doesnhis novel-writing on airplanes.nThe Charms of ConvenancenW.H. Davies: Young Emma;nGeorge Brazillcr; New York.nby Lindy EUingwoodnThis love story shows the importancenof manners and conventionsnin both the telling andnthe hearing of a tale. W.H.nDavies, an English poet of thenearly 20th century, decidednwhen he was about fifty to seek anwife with whom to establish anquiet domestic life in the countryside.nYoung Emma (writtennin 1924 but not published untiln1981) is his account of how henfound and married a twentythree-year-oldncountry girl onnher own, and pregnant, in London.nDavies describes himself as anshy man, but mentions “hownmuch my face has inspirednothers with trust and confidence.”nStrangers, especiallynyoung girls, frequently stop himnin the street to ask for directions:nMiss Fllingwood is on the staff ofnthe Chronicles.n”Do they take me for a professionalnguide?” It seems quitennatural that when his eyes meetnthose of his future wife as shenalights from a bus, she immediatelynsmiles, waits for him to approachnher, and then takes hisnarm and without hesitationnunites her path with his.nAffection and courtesy are thenhallmarks of the relationship,nwhich begins with Emma’s liveinnattendance upon Davies.nWhat Price Study?nFran Lebowitz: Social Studies;nRandom House, New York.nOne would be well advisednnot to read Fran Lebowitz’snbooks in public places—strangersntend to look askance atnsomeone whose shoulders arenshaking with silent laughter.nLet’s be honest, though, SocialnStudies does not equal the calibernof Metropolitan Life, hernfirst effort. One can hear thennnDavies recounts his efforts toncure the venereal disease he hadncontracted before he found Emma,nand tells of trying to get thenseemingly ignorant and unawarenEmma to do the same. Innsimilarly dispassionate fashionnhe describes Emma’s miscarriage,nin part brought on (possiblyndeliberately) by her wildnrompingand roughhousingnwith him. It is a mark of Davies’snsubtlety and decency that whennone finishes this book, one remembersnmost the lovely romancenrather than the somewhatnsordid events which constimtenmuch of the story.nIs this a snow job? The tone ofnthe book is so uplifting thatnDavies and his subject seem acceptablenon their own terms. Hendecided he wanted something,nsought it patiently and honestly,nand realized his dream most satisfactorily.nUnconcerned withnconventional morality, he actednwith what appears to be dignitynand honor. Compare Davies’snbook with a typical best sellernthat might be written today on ansimilar subject, and at once it isnevident how charm has been replacednby dullness, dignity bynsordidness. This book makesnpainfully clear how the mannersnand customs of Davies’s culturenare superior to those of the socialnenvironment from which currentnbest sellers emerge. Dnominous tolling of deadlines innseveral chapters. At some pointsnher wit seems too close to pique,nand here and there portionsnseem to be mere attempts to fillnspace.nThere—justice has beennserved, and we can proceednsimply to enjoy the choicest ofnthe Lebowitz efforts. In lookingnat a book like this, one may benforgiven for having favorites—innfact, it would be unforgivable ifn