late defender” of “the Judeo-Christianntradition” but as a characterization it isncloser to the mark than the usual invectives.nAn index (not to mention proofreading)nwould have increased the usefulnessnof this book. ccnMedia QuislingsnJames L. Tysonr Target America: ThenInfluence of Communist Propagandanon U.S. Media; Regnery Gateway;nChicago.nMost Americans understand thatn”news” from Tass is about as reliable asnpromises from real-estate speculators.nBoth are capable of paving swamplandnwith hyperbole. What relatively few ofnus realize, however, is to what extentnAmerican news reports are swayed bynprocommunist attitudes. James L.nTyson documents, in disturbing detail,nthe similarities between what manynAmerican journalists and intellectualsnoffer in their articles and broadcasts andnwhat is found in Pravda or Izvestia.nThis expose deserves serious attentionnbefore samizdat presses in South Dakotanor Idaho become our only reliablensource of news. ccnFREE with this coupon:n1984 andnThe Modern MindnPlease rush me your colorful review ofnThe Center on Religion &c Society, ThenIngersoll Prizes in Literature and thenHumanities, and the other exciting programsnof The Rockford histitute.nNamenAddress.nCitynState. .Zip.nSend to: The Iloekford Instituten934 North Main StreetnRockford. Illinois 6110.3n28/CHRONICIIS OF CULTUREnGod and Man atnHillsdalenThe Christian Vision: Man in Society;nEdited by Lynne Morris; ThenHillsdale College Press; Hillsdale, MI.n”Where there is no vision,” says Proverbs,n”the people perish.” Because thenvision provided by Judeo-Christianitynhas been fading for some time onnAmerica’s campuses, college graduatesninformed by a sense of purpose andnmeaning have become rare. As StephennMuller, president of Johns Hopkins hasnsuggested, higher education may nownbe producing merely “highly skillednbarbarians.” At Hillsdale College,nHillsdale, Michi gan, a serious effort isnbeing made to reverse this trend byninstituting a multidisciplinary ChristiannStudies Program. To initiate this program,nHillsdale invited a number ofnleading Christian scholars to join in anweek-long convocation exploring thensignificance of their faith in such diversenfields as physics (Stanley Jaki),nliterature (Thomas Howard), politicalnscience (Gerhart Niemeyer), pedagogyn(Carl F. H. Henry and Thomas Burke),npsychology (Paul Vitz), and philosophyn(James Packer). More such efforts arenneeded to resolve what Professor Henryncorrectly identifies as the current “intellectualnand moral crisis” in Westernncivilization. ccnWASTE OF MONEYnDuo-Tonenby Gary S. VasilashnG. Cabrera Infante: Infante’s Inferno;nHarper & Row; New York.nA wire service photo run in some U.S.nnewspapers prior to the Novembern”elections” in Nicaragua featured annimage that is both familiar and disorienting.nThe setting: a campaign rally innManagua for Sandinista presidentialncandidate Daniel Ortega. The centernof focus: a young girl, perhaps 13nor 14, who is wearing a conventionalnmajorette-style uniform—sparkles andnspangles. However, instead of twirling anbaton or pushing pom-poms, the girl isnholding a flag in one hand . . . and antoy machine gun in the other. Rah-rah,nshish, boom bang?nLately, there has been a proliferationnof documents coming into NorthnAmerica from the more-heated regionsnnnto the south. The items—photographic,njournalistic, cinematic, novelistie—arennot always what we mightnexpect. In effect, many of us are suddenlyndiscovering a world that is whollynunlike what we thought we knewn—because we never really knew it. Ournimages, protest though we may, are ancollage of Taco Bell, / Love Lucy, andnthe samba..nOne of the more interesting writersnwith roots in Latin America is G. CabreranInfante. Infante was born innCuba. In time he became Castro’s headnof the Council of Culture; in the earlyn60’s he was with the Cuban embassy innBrussels as cultural attache. Infante isnno longer passing out paperbacks ornscreening films on a sheet for the benefitnof his uniformed countrymen innAfrica or other countries closer tonhome. Infante lives in capitalist London.nInfante’s Inferno, an apparentlynsemiautobiographieal Bildungsrotnan,nhas obvious literariness which gives itnthe texture of a bona fide novel. However,nthe admirable quality very rapidlynbecomes a sore point as Infante becomesntoo literary for his—or thenreader’s—good. His obsession withndouble entendre is a case in point.nInfante racks (and I’m talking about thentorture device here) his store of literarynand cinematic knowledge in order toncome up with puns that go from amusingnto tedious in short order, as he pilesnone upon the other and then onto thenothers. Speaking of a young girl, annobject of his youthful lust (which agesnbut never wanes), he says: “She too wasnan adolescent. How green was my Vallinthen!” That would be fine if it were notnin close proximity to lines like onenabout a prostitute (all female figuresnfigure into this mold in one way ornanother): “Perhaps the erroneous notionnof the unhappy whore was learned innNana—whatever Zola wants, Zolangets.” The novel begins to resemble andense, long-playing record. Because thengrooves are so closely packed, there is antendency for the stylus to leap about thensurface. At first, the skips are jarringnand unexpected. Soon, they are anticipatednand annoying. Eventually we discardnthe disk. ccnGary Vasilash is contributing editor tonChronicles of Culture.n