378
R. W. FLINT
obliges the former to be naive and the latter not?
I
suspect Elliott
of trying for his theory's sake to will DeMott back into Richard–
son's shoes, to endow him with a specious naIvete. DeMott is not
naive, he is merely inhibited.
The Body's Cage
has
all the elements
of a really extravagant hair-raiser. I'm afraid a good deal of the
author's crew-cutted, sensible decorum just goes to waste on it.
Flannery O'Connor is as shrewd, tough and funny as any
writer alive. She is also a truly formidable intellectual plotter,
a
most expert juggler of all those celebrated levels of meaning.
I
find it virtually impossible to speak of these two sides of her gift
in the same tone of voice. On the one hand, a delightful gothic
mortuary comedy, on the other a very serious and on the whole
successful ethico-religio-mythical drama with nothing less at stake
than rationalism vs. faith, true evangelism vs. false, and other
impressive oppositions too many to mention. This
is
far and away
the best single thing she has done, an advance in each of the
directions explored already in
A Good Man
is
Hard to Find.
R. W. Flint
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