With very few exceptions, Advocate stories in the past few years have invariably centered on either idiots or children. Last year, children seemed to hold the lead, but this year, apparently, the imbeciles have taken over. Realizing that these subjects are easier for developing writers to work with, one still wishes that they would occasionally, tackle something more mature. The current issue of the Advocate, however, seems to contradict this preference, for the two best stories concern an idiot and a retarded hillbilly, while the one supposedly mature characterization is a dismal failure.

Bob Cumming's story about a man named Storey does not treat a very complex individual--the complexity is rather in Storey's situation as the white boss of a gang of Negro cottonpickers--yet the story itself is constructed with intricacy and maturity. By focussing on the irrational behavior of a feeble-minded, white cottonpicker, Cumming effectively portrays Storey's own loss of control with amazing brevity. Since the idot's situation can be stated more clearly and concisely than that of the maturer man, it serves as an excellent economizing device, while allowing the author to indulge his taste for plantation colloquialisms.

A story by Sallie Bingham about a hick named Ephram is almost equally successful. Although Enharm seems terribly nearsighted, in fact as blind as Silas Marner, Miss Bingham puts his difficulty to some use: as he attains a feeling of freedom and independence, he becomes more and more aware of the things about him. While this illumination-through-blindness technique seems a trifle overdone, the story as a whole is vibrant and entertaining.

In contrast with this intelligent treatment of the feebleminded is Robert Fisher's stale catalogue of bullfight lore. Fisher's use of a banal subject--the discovery of dedication, and death, in a bullfight--would be bad enough if the story were well-handled. But the author seems to have almost no control. Every possible detail and almost all the conceivable eventualities of a bullfight are crammed into the story, completely obscuring the character of the novillero who achieves his consummation in death. Besides this retailing of tauromachian local-color, Fisher afflicts his readers with a stiff, unrealistic dialogue (including some unconvincing, garrulous pre-fight speeches by the matador). Add to this a number of much mouthed moralizations on the art and significance of bullfighting and you have a long story which can easily be skipped.

The poetry in this issue is not all obscure. John Hollander's songs, sung by a picaresque hero called Dick Dongworth, are the most notable contribution. Hollander combines a slight air of humor and intense irony to good effect. He varies his rhyme scheme to fit the special tone of each poem, and his rhythm fails only at one point in the last song. Less monumental, but equally effective, is "In Rainwoods," written by an anonymous poet, blasphemously dubbed Sam Hall. The rainwoods contain soft red leopards and a girl and a great sense of wonder.

Rob MacDonald has written a fairly competent extended metaphor comparing the sea to a woman. He rather successfully captures both the rise and fall of the swells and their dark, light-drowing power. There is a strong suggestion of death wish and a good bit of alliteration. One line--"While limbs loll out long like a lover"--seems to have little meaning within the context of the poem, but the image is satisfying, and it trips off the tongue nicely. Fred Seidel's poem about death is filled with images. It is not as obscure as it might have been, but it is fairly good anyway. Robert Layzer contributes half of a good poem.

The most exciting thing about the current Advocate, however, is neither its prose nor its poetry so much as its new, businesslike format and its equally serious policy of having a lead editorial or review in every issue. The first of these, Charles Sifton's review of Leslie Fiedler's essays, handles an important topic with some comprehension and a bit of felicitous expression. The Advocate is at last beginning to advocate something, if only as an appreciation of others' ideas. Eric Martin's cover is pleasant enough, but its light blue might have appealed more in warmer weather. Biddle and Midgette illustrate well, as usual.