r a magazine cover at all
times, and endlessly charming. He was also drunk for the entire
residency, but he managed to get through it without being thrown out.
Montpelier's administration was no challenge to Jamie after the
Pentagon where his final assignment was to impress members of Congress
with new weapons and the military "can do" attitude.

"One look at the toys and they would come in their pants. Never lost an
appropriation. Ha, ha, ha." His glance drifted out the window to the
wetlands behind the house. He told Joe of a tracheotomy in the jungle,
a soldier shot and dying in his arms. "He died happy. He thought I was
going to save him."

Joe had no wish to compare masculinity with Jamie. Joe lived in the
reverse disguise, his strength hidden beneath layers of sensitivity. He
spent more time with Walter. Besides, Eugenie, one of the faculty, had
fallen for Jamie and was with him as often as she could find him.

The students were divided into two groups, fiction and poetry. Joe was
in fiction and glad of it as he came to meet more students. The poets
were high strung; they tended to lapse into proud and delicate
silences. The fiction writers were gregarious, given to loud laughter.
Round tables in the dining room usually filled with one group or the
other.

On their second day, the students were scheduled to meet with faculty
members. Joe and Walter traipsed about the development and talked to
half a dozen of the most interesting teachers. Joe asked whether they
considered themselves artists, and, if so, what they understood that to
mean. One rubbed his forehead and said, "It was a good morning." He had
at least thought about it. Generally, yes, the faculty members
considered themselves artists, but, mumble, mumble. They accepted the
status and the authority, but they were confused about the
responsibility that art did or did not entail. One of the more widely
published professors had read a story the previous night. Joe asked him
if he felt that it was good enough to write a story which posed
questions but made no attempt to answer them. In this manner, over the
course of two days, Joe pissed everybody off. As a reward, he was
assigned to Roland, the most intimidating faculty member.

Joe had always identified with artists. But art meant painting. In what
way were writers artists? He didn't intend to annoy the faculty; he was
trying to get his money's worth.

Workshops were carefully choreographed. Each stu