EXCEPT for a group of three short poems by Marvin Barrett and the usual reviews (of which Frederick Jacobi's musical criticism is to be praised), the new Advocate consists entirely of fiction. The scope of the whole is narrow, but the variety of the fiction is great. This has not always been true: too often the Advocate has reflected a single and special set of interests and tastes.

The first story, by Richard Scowcroft, is "The White Princess," announced as a chapter from a novel. It is a perceptive study of childhood, distinguished by the difficult balance it nearly maintains between humor and sentimentalism; its weakness is that it continues for at least one page after it is finished. The second story, enigmatically entitled "The Native In The World" (sometimes "The Native Of The World," which makes the matter no clearer) is by Howard Nemerov. Here, in the familiar world of the Houses, Dunster Street, and St. Clairs, we are invited to observe the psychological antics of unfamiliar characters. If Nemerov does not make his subject matter seem very important, that is because, in his handling of it, he does not make it seem convincing; it may be that he places too heavy a burden on his character, who not only suffers from paranois and homosexuality, but is besides, a drunkard, a drug addict, a bore to his friends, and a silly boy. Nemerov, however, is a writer to be taken into account; a brilliant stylist, he is the most accomplished writer of prose published by the Advocate this year.

Bowden Broadwater's story, "Several Blots on the Family Escutcheon," is an amusing account of domestic disaster in the genteel atmosphere of the best residence of a southern city. Mr. Broadwater's interest in decor is always a pleasure to come upon, and his use of this kind of detail here is very successful. If it sometimes seems that he conceives of his characters as mere extensions of decorators' fashions, that is at least a novel way of conceiving of characters; and in this story it is most appropriate of the several devices which characterize Broadwater's original satiric tone.

The last story, "We Can Go Home Now," is by William Parker, and an admirable complement of Mr. Nemerov's little tale of psychological melodrama it is. For Mr. Parker comes out in the open with melodrama that is above-board and does not hesitate to beat its chest. This is the story of an ugly party named Bert Coonrod who shoots one of his companions on a deer hunt not quite for the sheer pleasure of shooting him. Mr. Parker could do without the sections of italicized rumination of which he seems fond, and if he were handling other material, we should expect him to solve his problem more satisfactorily than he does here. If melodrama is not given to solving problems, no more should it ruminate.

Marvin Barrett's three related poems are entitled " Vacation Excursions." Of these, the first is as good as anything he has published in the are less impressive because, in spite of occasional past, perhaps better. The second and third parts brilliant lines, they depend too much on general statement and generalized diction; but who would complain of this--

"I leave to the worse than average street entertainer,

Less than talented, my split bassoon,

My pale chalks, my palsled monkey, all my pretty nerves,

As tools and subjects adoquate to his art..."

I am perhaps partial to Mr. Barrett's eccentric wit. But the Advocate, after all, is most palatable when it is witty, least palatable when it broods, or stews about in its own thin juices. There is very little stewing in the present issue, and an exceptional proportion of distinguished writing.