accomplishes is to reduce them to a fewnsentences. These lives seem not so muchnlittle as small. Of one woman, for instance,nwe are told that the only notablenthing she ever did was to go for Koshernmeat every Friday. Whether she lovednher husband, if she had children, wasna good cook, whether she was talentednin any way—all that he considers unimportant.nWhat Mr. Spyker considers of crucialnimportance are his speculations onnwhether someone was a homosexualnor lesbian, the sexual proclivities of hisnsubjects and whatever various perversionsnhe can dig up. If the character isnfrom the distant past and he can findnno facts, or even rumors, he simply addsna few speculations of his own.nHe seems to be trying to prove thatnNew England, despite its reputation fornhard-headed common sense, can rivalnthe West Coast as a haven for weirdos.nAs he single-handedly destroys the mythnof Yankee normalcy, he injects what’snrepulsive in sex to guarantee his placenon the current literary market. Why anyonenwould consider a mission to hangnout one little place’s dirty linen for publicninspection is a mystery. Perhaps Mr.nSpyker himself can tell us: “… thenSpuycker name, though celebrated locally,nis not commonly associated withnthings of cultural variety,” he writesnin his book. (BK) DnNossiter’s VetonBernard D. Nossiter: Britain — AnFuture that Works; Houghton MifflinnCompany; Boston.nAt a time when everybody who evernloved things British, from Chaucer tonWodehouse, and from the Garrick Clubnto Winnie-the-Pooh, returns from Englandnwith tearful eyes, Mr. Nossiter, anWashington Post London correspondent,nthinks that everything is all rightnand under control. He believes that thenvisible and palpable ruin of Pall Mallnand the transmogrification of OxfordnStreet into a dilapidated oriental shuknare not ruin at all, but the demonstrationnof the new, laid-back British lifenstyle, the English version of the charmsnof life and civilization as they shouldnbe experienced in a post-industrial societynthat ought to see value in the relaxednpleasures of existence rather thannin any strenuous effort.nNear the end of 1978, Anthony Burgessnpublished a novel entitled 1983,nwhich portrayed Britain a year afternOrwell’s deadline. The laid-back stancenis brought to its ultimate consequencesnand England is drowning in a limbo ofnindifference and inhumanity broughtnabout by the labor unions’ rule of bothnthe society and human instincts. Asnfiremen are on strike, and nihilism isnthe official social morality, the wife ofnBurgess’ protagonist burns to death.nScreennSerious ArtnThe Deer Hunter; Directed by MichaelnCimino; Written by DericnWashburn; Universal Pictures &nEMI Films.nby Eric ShapearonIs The Deer Hunter an antiwarnmovie.’ The problem starts with thenIliad. Was the Iliad anti- or pro war.’ Itncertainly was against the perishing ofnthe just and the cruelties of fate. It alsonwas sort of pacifistic and internationalistnbecause it evoked the beguiling virtuesnof serenity and the dignity of diversenorigins. But it was also fiercely tribal,npatriotic, chauvinistic, macho, andnshamelessly in favor of competitivenessnand bravery as virtues. It was literarynart—perhaps the first to torment mankindnwith the vicissitudes and incertitudesnof interpretation.nThe Deer Hunter is the first seriousnart in two decades to emerge from thenHollywood film boutique. As v/zt per sennnThis has been viewed by the leftishncritics in the United States as thenauthor’s pure, if unsavory fantasy, whennthey reviewed his novel in November,n1978. Three months later, in real-lifenBritain, a giant strike of firemen, sanitationnworkers and hospital attendants,ndirected against the social democraticngovernment of Mr. Callaghan, cost severalnhuman lives: idle, impassive firemenncoldly watched people trying unsuccessfullynto escape burning houses,npatients died when doctors were forciblynprevented from entering hospitals whosenemployees were on strike. In the meantime,nMr. Nossiter’s book appeared,nand the Progressive, an Americannmarxist journal, wrote that it “. . . is anstimulating book, and a useful antidotento the diet fed us by the press.” If thisnis how Britain’s future works, we prefernher dark, imperialist past. Dnis evil, all art is somehow antiwar. Butnthere are just wars, necessary wars, andnwars whose nature and consequencesnwe are unable to decipher during excruciatinglynlong stretches of history.nThere’s war in The Deer Hunter, a warnthat one cannot dismiss simply withnantiwar feelings. This war could andnshould have been won by us—the movienreluctantly conveys this message, atnleast to me. And, I hope, to all thosenwho have already understood somenbitter truths. Others who opposed thisnwar, and never came to doubt their ownnrighteousness, will only feel reinforcednin their beliefs as they leave the theatre.nThese are the risks of true art.nThis movie is a powerful remindernthat only art is capable of putting thenfoolishness of nations into a propernscope. In America of the ’70s, a movienon Vietnam was necessary to bare thenbenighted franticality of the ’60s defeatismnwithout showing a single, drugstonednwar protester. When a commu-nZ7nChronicles of Culturen