A blend of Nathan (whimsy), Saroyan (idealization of the benevolent bum), handled in basic Anglo-Saxon (Robertson is the interpreter of James Joyce) for an idyll which ranges from the wistful to the crude. O'Reilly, returned soldier and psychoneurotic, on release from the hospital wanders across upstate New York in search of a vision which materializes in Livy, a young sculptress and all woman -- I mean all -- and a broken down carousel which they restore together. They are confronted by local opposition in the form of Van Krampp, who owns the town and resents the opening of the carousel; O'Reilly is brow-beaten and jailed, and finally cleared by a spinster Portia. This ends this story of the accomplishment of a dream. Whether ephemeral or earthy, I found it all rather dull.