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TIME: Almanac 1990
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1990 Time Magazine Compact Almanac, The (1991)(Time).iso
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time
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030689
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03068900.055
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1990-09-17
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BOOKS, Page 70An Old Master in Soft-CoversBy Paul Gray
A THEFT
by Saul Bellow
Penguin; 109 pages; $6.95
When Saul Bellow finished the manuscript of A Theft, he sent
it to his agent, who began the process of submitting it to
magazinaes. So far, so ho-hum. Was there an editor on earth who
would not preen at the prospect of publishing a novella by the
Noble laureate? As it turned out, yes. Two publications, which the
agent diplomatically refuses to name, rejected A Theft, saying the
piece was too long, although one suggested a reconsideration would
be in order if the author agreed to make some cuts. Thoroughly
steamed, Bellow decided that his awkward offspring -- bigger than
the bread boxes now in vogue in commercial magazines but shorter
than a novel -- deserved to be presented to the world in an
unconventional manner. And here it is: brand-new fiction by Saul
Bellow, in paperback.
While this break with normal practices may not seem
earthshaking to most people, those in publishing are walking
gingerly, anticipating possible tectonic shifts. No one can recall
a writer of Bellow's stature consenting to have his work issued as
a paperback original. That method has traditionally been limited
to certain classes of high-turnover genre fiction, such as westerns
and romance, and, in recent years, to works by relatively unknown
authors. Among the latter, Jay McInerney made his name with the
paperback Bright Lights, Big City, and Richard Ford's cult
reputation was considerably enlarged by his soft-cover novel The
Sportswriter. But original paperbacks still face stiff resistance.
Most libraries will not buy them, because they may not stand up to
repeated handling. Major book clubs prefer to select hard-covers.
Authors have reason to be wary. Lower prices mean smaller
royalties, although heavy sales can wipe out this disadvantage. But
someone who publishes in this manner cannot expect a hefty sum for
a paperback reprint.
Leaving aside its possible implications for the future of book
marketing, Bellow's gambit is a piece of unambiguous good news. For
a modest outlay, readers can buy an original work of art: a
world-class author producing a tale that is both thoroughly typical
and engagingly new. As always in Bellow's fiction, the important
characters in A Theft are astoundingly vibrant and intelligent;
they worry and talk brilliantly about "the big, big picture," i.e.,
life, and their moral place within it.
The new wrinkle is that Bellow's hero is a heroine. His past
books have offered plenty of strong, sensual women, but they always
revolved around a male, delighting or distracting him or simply
existing as another hurdle on his path toward spiritual perfection.
This time out, Clara Velde, an executive in a New York City
publishing empire, the matron of a Park Avenue co-op, married four
times and the mother of three daughters, rests securely at the
center of her universe.
Her most luminous satellite is Ithiel ("Teddy") Regler, a
foreign affairs expert slightly less renowned than Henry Kissinger
but equally in demand for consultations in Washington and around
the world. Teddy's Manhattan lawyer tells Clara: "He thinks no more
about going to Iran than I do about Coney Island." When they were
lovers in the '60s, Clara inveigled Teddy into buying her an
engagement ring with an emerald stone, costing $1,200 that he could
barely afford at the time. They did not marry each other, for
reasons neither quite understands, but a small army of other people
instead. "What a waste!" Clara marvels. "Why should there have been
seven marriages, five children!"
Clara and Teddy keep in touch, soul mates if not literal ones,
and she, ever busier and more independent, attaches talismanic
significance to the emerald ring: "In it Ithiel's pledge was
frozen." She loses it, grieves, collects the insurance and then
finds it wedged under her bed. The next time it turns up missing,
Clara knows it has been stolen.
Her immediate conclusion -- that the culprit is the Haitian
boyfriend of her Austrian au pair girl -- will offend liberal
sensibilities, especially since it turns out to be correct. Bellow
has ruffled racial feathers before, notably in Mr. Sammler's Planet
(1970) and The Dean's December (1982), and his new heroine's
thoughts will not heal those old wounds: "These people came up from
the tropical slums to outsmart New York, and with all the rules
crumbling here as elsewhere, so that nobody could any longer be
clear in his mind about anything, they could do it." But Clara is
here ruminating in anger and the natural resentment of a victim.
In calmer moods, she can recall listening to Teddy Regler talk
about the decline of civilization and privately disagreeing: "I
don't actually take much stock in the collapsing-culture bit: I'm
beginning to see it instead as the conduct of life without input
from your soul."
Clara is not a racist, as she twice insists. She is engaged in
a struggle that transcends boundaries of color and class: trying
to live truly and honorably in a compromised world. She triumphs
in the end, and so does her remarkable creator.