Word: sheed
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...DAYS, the political novel, like politics itself, was a game only professionals played. But in the wake of the "new politics" amateurs like Wilfrid Sheed, former film critic for Esquire, are beginning to write a new brand of political fiction. People Will Always Be Kind is a good example of how this new type fails: like the "new politics" itself, the book is unorganized, self-righteous and too self-consciously concerned with style...
Professional politicians, most Americans assume, are at worst corrupt. Sheed thinks most of them are crazy. He may well be right, but the political novel isn't suited to expound such a far-reaching thesis. As a result, Sheed's book seems like a shotgun marriage of escapism and pretentious character analysis...
...title of the novel is taken from Siegfried Sassoon: "Does it matter? -losing your legs? .../ For people will always be kind,/ And you need not show that you mind/ When the others come in after hunting/ To gobble their muffins and eggs." The significance is that Casey, like Sheed himself, was crippled by polio as a boy. It seems to be this affliction that focuses his energy on politics, or, as Sam Perkins eventually sees it, on a compulsion to see healthy people brought to their knees. The novel's main concern, however, is the cloudy question of whether...
Virility. As a writer, Sheed can easily do a double back flip without spilling the wine in his glass. (He has dismissed book reviewing as a couple of insights and "a few simple waltz steps.") Unlike most stylistic acrobats, he is quite capable of writing a dozen plain sentences in a row if dazzle seems inappropriate. Thus, when he describes the reaction to one of Casey's speeches, it is the scene, and not the author's splendid suppleness, that lingers in the mind: "And when it was over, they exploded with a passion that would have sent...
This is an odd, shrewd book, whose quality is suggested by the reader's strong feeling at the end that Sheed's only real mistake was to quit writing about 200 pages short of his natural stopping place...