The Hucksters skeleton- and the dry bones rattle. This time the would-be satire are directed towards war contract scandals -- an industrialist who stoops at nothing to get his way -- and a set of as unreal, contrived puppets as could be brought gether. The story is told largely in dialogue, and long before the end of its approximately 500 pages, one is surfeited with boredom, caring not a whit about the destiny designed to armor its wearers against atomic bombs (but actually inflicting them with gamma ray burns) -- nor about its promoter, Martin Strabo, colossal creek, profiteer, grafter, leecher, ambitious to become a member of the most exclusive Washington clubs, and to receive an appointment as an ambassador. His ""secretary"" duties involve sleeping with him at his will, almost fooled me; I thought she was on way out of the morass, but no. She fooled Kim, too, and then betrayed him by marrying the boss. Strabo's daughter, a spoiled limb of the family tree, is the only one who emerges with integrity reclothed, for Kim, who might have been something, is a negative shadow. Cheap and tawdry melodrama, and unforgivably dull.