The Armies of the Night

EN PALS

From the outs

The war in Vietnam was probably to be protested on every occasion, and any attempt to twist Hubert Humphrey’s nose was, in all favorable winds, a venture to applaud, but the exodus from the National Book Award’s assembly, as one might have predicted, was small, pilgrim small, by reports not unfarcical:

ry demonstration, it had better work, since novelists like movie stars like to keep their politics in their pocket rather than wear them as ashes on the brow; if it is hard for people in the literary world to applaud any act braver or more self-sacrificing than their own, it is impossible for them to forgive any gallant move which is by consensus unsuccessful. The measure of the