Nn,, , . , , ‘You know I have always loved you.n__^ aturally, the system is to blame. ^nd there’s something else you mustn’The system was the Nothing, the ‘es- know.’ntablished Nothingness’ on whose gar- ‘Yes, what is it?’nbage one could live, had to live,” ‘That some form of socialism mustnacknowledges Fritz. The poverty of his come, must prevail . . .’n”There is a moral -.uul ae.slhiiic inicyriiy lo hi^ work.”n— {London) Times literary Supplementn”Boll is a good man, a MTVUIU DI V;IIIH– whu IICHTVI- uur n-spici.”n—Sew York limes Book Keriewnyouth made him long for the riches hennow enjoys, but at least he has the decencynto feel guilty about his success.nSabine’s wealthy in-laws worry onlynabout increasing their wealth and stavingnoff some bogus communist threat.n”They’re forever conjuring up the Rednperil, they’re pathological about it andnpathologically boring, they see starvationnstaring them in the face when sales rise bynonly twenty-nine million instead ofnthirty-five million, they defend the middlenclass, to which they don’t belong,nagainst the Socialist threat while knowingnperfectly well that their very concentrationnrepresents the greatest threat tonthe middle class,” Kathe asserts. Sonthere. If only capitalists weren’t songreedy, the people of the wforld wouldnlive in peace. Don’t look to religion fornthe answer: the priests are all sleepingnwith their girl friends while preachingnchastity to the congregation. In fact, allnof the radicals have come out of thenchurch. The army is no solution, fornthat’s where the terrorists learned theirnskills with explosives. No, compared tonthe minions of the system, the radicals ofnthe left are angelic; it seems as thoughneverything they touch turns to gold.nThanks to them, Sabine found true lovenwith her married security guard. Sabine’snfriend has been similarly blessed as anresult ofdeath threats aimed at others. “Indaren’t say it aloud but, you know, wencan thank those maniacs for it, thosencrazy criminals,” she says.nBoll’s philosophy is ridiculous, but hisndialogue is enough to provoke anyone tonviolence. Says Fritz to his wife:nMercifully, this inane novel will donnothing to fiirther the cause.niVlextco Bay, the new novel bynPulitzer Prize-winner Paul Horgan,ncould not be more different from thenstandard ideological novels of the last fewnyears. A reader will search in vain fornreferences to capitalist pigs or Americannimperialism. Horgan, a historian as wellnas a novelist, has set his story around thentime of World War II, when patriotismnwas strong. Many of his characters temporarilynsacrifice prosperous careers tonlend their services to the United Statesngovernment. A few lose their lives.nThough the plot is rife with the old conventionsn(beautiful brilliant womannfinds happiness with a perfect man onnher third try), it has been so long sincenmost of us have read a novel like this thatnits once-standard fare seems positivelynrefreshing. Diana Macdonald, only childnof a well-to-do newspaperman, marriesnsuccessful playwright John Wentworthnand lives a glamorous life during the warnyears in Washington, D.C. The marriagenOccurs against the wishes of Diana’snfather, for Wentworth is a generationnolder than she and of questionable sexualninclination. The marriage is childless andnunhappy since, in addition to his selfabsorption,nWentworth likes to manipulatenthe people in his life in the same waynhe manipulates the characters of his comedies.nWhen applied to reality, hisnmodus operandi backfires, however, andnDiana mns off with Ben Ives, a scruffynyoung painter of promise whomnWentworth has befriended with justnnnthis scenario in mind. “In schemingntheir lives, what had he done to hisnown?” Wentworth wonders, surprisinglynpained.nDiana’s life with Ives is the antithesisnof her past. A precursor to the hippies 20nyears later, Ives believes in doing whatncomes naturally among natural things.nTherefore he and Diana head for Texas,nwhere they live hand-to-mouth on hernearnings from selling refreshments tontourists. Ives, meanwhile, travels freelynin search of ideas for his paintings.nThough pleasant enough when sober, henis a mean drunk who kills a man in anrestaurant over a harebrained womannand escapes by sea to certain death duringna storm.nIn the background of these events isnHoward Debler, upon whom Horgannhas bestowed intellect, loyalty, integrity,ncourage, and drive. Debler, who hasnkept his feelings for Diana to himself,nnot only rescues her from the pain,nhumiliation, and loneliness she feelsnafter Ives’ s crime, but gives her happinessnin Roman Catholicism, marriage,npregnancy, an upper-class style of life,nand the reflected glory of a husband’snspectacular career. All of this supposedlynhappened 35 years ago. Nevertheless, anfeminist reader of modern literature willnhave difficulty suppressing a sneer.nDoesn’t Horgan know that marriage,npregnancy, and the Roman CatholicnChurch are the enemies of women andnalways were? Diana Debler, with hernbrains and beauty, should have been thenfirst Mary Cunningham. What a waste.nIn truth, though Horgan uses thenEnglish language beautifully, he doesnnot endow his characters with the depthnand psychological complexity that wouldnmatch his linguistic acumen. Diana is anparticular problem. Wentworth wants tonwrite his plays, Debler wants to write hisnhistories, Ives wants to paint. All threenwant a beautiful woman. What doesnDiana want? Here, after all, is a womannof ability who effortlessly and automaticallynloves three very different men in anrather short span of time. What is itnabout her nature that gives her thisni^9nDecember 198Sn