Down Mailer’s Way By Robert Solotaroff
University of Illinois, 289 pp., $10 I would not have thought such a good book could be written about Norman Mailer. His faults are so glaring: an incredibly wordy style full of empty wind; a small set of tawdry metaphors elaborated to ridiculous length; a crass, buck-grabbing exploitation of sensational issues; an ugly undercurrent of continual self-praise; a revolting ego so ravenous he is no longer able to imagine the thoughts of others and hence remains unable to write a satisfactory novel; a tiresome, oversimplified division of the world into good and evil; a complete and utter lack of a sense of humor. In the face of all this, I could only imagine a short comic tirade against Mailer on the order of Mark Twain’s attack on poor old James Fenimore Cooper. What else could be done? Robert Solotaroff has observed most of these faults, complained of them— sometimes passionately—and yet produced a study that finds a number of virtues in Mailer as well. He has gone through all the hash and found a few steaks.




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