Something new in the Advocate, an editorial, attacks a prime stigma of our generation--a lack of moral attitude. Although the high-blown writing obscures the argument at vital points, the blame appears to lie both with the university and the student "intellectual coterie." If the author considered all possible results of his conclusion (that the university stamp a common belief in the nature of ethical principles on the student) he might hesitate and frown a little more.

Poetry occupies several pages in this Advocate and most of it is good if not exceptional. David Chandler's Sonnet achieves a poignant, sustained effect from a careful control of visual images and brilliantly worded passages. Neither the cadence, sound, nor form interfere with his feelings on growing up. The poem advances smoothly and communicates directly. Southampton Beach, by Charles Neuhauser, relies more on sense impressions and reflections inspired by them. In places, the impressions seem redundant, yet the transitions to reflection are expertly handled. It is sometimes difficult to know exactly what Neuhauser is saying, however, because he uses a development of ideas as subject rather than a word or clause.

Walter Kaiser uses about the same approach in his piece on Cezanne, Aix-en-Provence. The meter he choses (unconsciously or not) contributes powerfully to his thoughts on imponderable nature, giving balance and clearness to the total meaning. Tending towards obscurity, Robert Layzer presents a tribute to She Voyages which becomes entangled in odd grammar and unconnected images. Regrettably, he is unable to control some highly imaginative metaphors. What Winifred Hare means to imply in her caption, Song for Two People on Three Instruments, I will not venture to guess. Regardless of what she refers to, her piece creates a pleasant, colorful mood in fresh medieval tone. Considering her intent, this poem is the brightest of all.

Among the short story authors, only Nora Sayre has a firm command of language and an interesting subject. In Museum, she gives a warm, personal and unprepossessing account of people she saw looking at modern sculpture. Her prose moves swiftly, concentrates in her own feelings as a sculptress, and digresses on simple reactions of other people in an entirely captivating way.

Sabbath concerns the changing love between boy and girl in terms of an obsession with dogs. C. C. Humpstone fails to make the love affair or the obsession at all interesting. Yet he sometimes builds up an effect in descriptive passages, and his prose is generally light.

The most experimental selection, by Peter Sourian, is the most disappointing. An awkward, stilted, and needlessly repetitious monologue, Class and Dramatic Too is not only boring but anti-climactic. Although Sourian is willing to sacrifice readability for one simple effect--the loneliness of the speaker--the result is a yawn.