Some will say Herbert Gold is beating a dead horse, throttling the mangy nag Americana in the grand, articulate manner which characterized the social criticism of the late fifties. But so long as American batten greedily on the produce of the barbecue pit, so long as they're stimulated by Henry Luce, and since More In Anger is out of print Mr. Gold's brand of vituperation is very much needed. Among the ruins: Jack Kerouac and the cult of hip ""like a sick refrigerator, laboring with tremendous violence, noise and heat, and all for one purpose -- to keep cool""; the fiction of the anti-hero and submissive virtue, ""There must be a reason, and if there isn't? Be nice."", the ""Woukaday world"" of Herman, Sloan Wilson and Cameron Hawley in which job is a brat; the fruity prose of Truman Capote, ""the chattering poets of decoration...A paragraph is a hammock in which words copulate prettily"". The author's faith in the holiness of love and the spirituality of some divorces is utterly challenging. ""Together we have put an end to the monstrous expectations of first marriage and without we may go on to what is possible."" The latter half of the collection traces Gold's reactions, personal and pointed, as he travels through Cleveland, Paris, Greenwich Village, and Detroit Amazingly articulate prone, acute observation, and a refreshing quality some brilliant social criticism.