Myra-Breckinridge-Gore-Vidal

problem set us by the French New Novelists. The answeris, like so many answers to important questions, neither yesnor no. The treachery of words is notorious. I write that I"care for" Mary-Ann. But what does that mean? Nothing atall because I do not care for her at all times or at any time inall ways. To be precise (the task set us in the age ofscience), as I sit here at the card table in my room, wearingan old dressing gown of Myron's, I can say that I like hereyes and voice but not her mouth (too small) or hands (tooblunt). I could fill many pages of yes-no and still not bring thereader to any deep knowledge of what it is I feel at 7:10P.M., March iz. It is impossible to sort out all one's feelingsat any given moment on any given subject, and so perhapsit is wise never to take on any subject other than one's ownprotean but still manageable self. What does Mary-Annthink of me? I could not begin to do more than guess nor, Isuppose, could she answer this question even to herself:liking, hostility, attraction, revulsion, self-aggrandizement,self-sacrifice, all mingled together with no clear motif savethe desire of each to exert power over the other. That is theone humaistant, to which all else is tributary. Dr. Montag stillchallenges my theory from time to time. Once he spoke ofthe maternal instinct as something not involving power. Butof course it does, in the most obvious way: the teat (orbottle) is the source of life to the baby, to be given orwithheld at the mother's pleasure. If there is any morefulfilling way of achieving total power over another humanbeing, I have yet to hear of it. Of course most peoplesuccessfully disguise their power drives, particularly from