Into It, a derivatively late '60'ish novella is one of those septic, scratchy, scatological books in which the author, like one of his characters -- a would-be television comic -- has just tacked a few routines together out of anything that drifted into his sick head. The initial primal scene is both anal and terminal and the book goes on from there to tell how the narrator, Nick, becomes the #2 son of a Mr. and Mrs. Joe whose real son, Danny, sends them obscene video tapes. Ultimately Danny comes home or to what's left of it since Mr. Joe is in and out of the hospital. Nick is making it with Mrs. Joe whose avid corpulence is unbearable, and all of it ends in murderous thoughts about sons and mothers and sons (Danny kills his infant; Nick kills Mrs. Joe) in this climate of total extinction. It would have died a natural death in any case were it not for that horrid aftertaste.