William Kienzle - Masquerade

Winer’s dismissal of Krieg’s title “Reverend” was noted by everyone. The other writers smiled at Winer. Did their smiles indicate permission for Winer to speak for them, or did they constitute silent agreement that Krieg warranted no religious title? Koesler didn’t know, but it was interesting to speculate.

“My first comment,” Winer proceeded, “is addressed to the presence of sex and violence in literature, specifically in books of a religious nature. Unfortunately, I have not yet read all the books written by all of my colleagues. Yet, having met them and in a short span of time gotten to know them surprisingly well, I feel it may be safe to speak in their behalf.

“All of us-Sister Marie, Father Augustine, Father Benbow, and myself-are writing in the mystery or detective fiction genre. To begin with, the fiction is also popularly known as ‘murder’ mystery stories. It may or may not come as a surprise to you that there exist rules and regulations for murder mysteries. One of these rules is that there must be at least one murder in each murder mystery. That having been said, I feel it safe to suggest that I cannot think of any murder that does not have an element of violence to it.”

There were a few chuckles from the audience and smiles everywhere, save on Krieg’s face.

“Thus,” Winer continued, “it is not a question, I think, whether or not violence is compatible with religion. Good God, look at the Bible! It gets under way with fratricide-Cain killing Abel. And, in your so-called “New” Testament, it culminates with a most brutal death-the crucifixion of Jesus.

“What I propose is the consideration not of the presence or absence of violence as such, but rather whether the subject of violence is called for in the plot, and secondarily-and just as important-how it is treated.

“For instance, in one of my books there is a death of the daughter of the president of the synagogue. It is pivotal to the essence of the story. I intended the book to be a murder mystery. Thus, there had to be a murder. And there was. The book was peopled with characters I hoped the reader would find interesting. The interaction of these characters hinged on their relationship to the dead girl. Who had the motive, the means, and the opportunity to do the poor girl in? There were quite a few suspects. As it turned out, only the rabbi was clever enough to figure it all out.”

Winer smiled self-consciously. The audience was appreciative of his humor.

“So we have an act of violence in a book with a very religious setting. Was it necessary? Did it fit? Oh, yes, I think so.

“The next question: How was the description of violence handled?”

“Rabbi,” a student interrupted, “aren’t you just quibbling about taste? Good taste? Bad taste? Who’s to tell?”

Winer considered the question for a moment. “Ah, yes, my young man: taste. But good taste, bad taste, like morality and art, all depend on where one draws the line.

“For instance, in the case of violence-given in a murder mystery there is violence, given in life there is violence-one can write that so-and-so is shot or stabbed to death. Or, one can describe in lurid detail exactly how a person is tortured to death. All the agonies and terrors the torture victim suffers can be graphically depicted. More, one can dwell on the almost erotic pleasure the killer derives from the inflicting of torture.

“I would suggest that the first is an example of good taste, while the latter is in very poor taste.

“Sex. Sex is much like violence, a part of life. I think it almost impossible to write a book that has no reference to sex. If only to the stereotypical role of the sexes. There are traits considered feminine and those considered masculine; mannerisms, relationships that are inescapable in real life.

“When we come to intimate sexual behavior between people, once again we arrive at that line between good and bad taste. And here perhaps more than in any other situation it is difficult to know where to draw that line.

“People love each other sexually. They also manipulate and abuse one another sexually. And here it is not so much a question of description as it is minute detail. The word I’m searching for is ‘pandering’: what the Supreme Court likes to call ‘appealing to a prurient interest.’

“We could go very far afield with examples. Suffice to say that I believe you will find in the books of the writers on this panel a very decided effort to express violence and sex in reasonable taste. And I also submit that in the books of P.G. Press you will find not just bad taste but execrable taste.”

“Just a minute, Rabbi. .” Krieg’s seemingly perpetual beatific smile had almost completely disappeared. “. . It is grossly unfair of you-”

“Please,” Winer cut in, “allow me to finish. After that, the floor can be yours if you wish. We have many more days during which to thrash this out.”

Krieg, who had half risen from his seat, fell back into the chair. Sister Janet leaned toward him and whispered something. He nodded, and tried with little success to reawaken the plastic smile.

“We will have ample time to discuss these issues,” Winer said, “and I believe they are well worth an examination in depth. However, there is one more point I wish to speak to now. That is the statement Mr. Krieg made alleging that religion is, of its very nature, dull.”

Once again Winer’s denial of Krieg’s religious title was noted by all.

“For us, Jews and Christians,” Winer continued, “the notion and subject of religion quite naturally takes us back to the Bible.

“Now, how can anyone in his right mind think that the Bible is dull? The stories of Abraham, Moses, David; the prophets; the remarkable women, Ruth, Esther. Fulton Oursler wrote a book about the Bible and called it The Greatest Story Ever Told. And that is what it is: the greatest story ever told. It needs no ‘pizzazz.’ It needs no hype. It needs nothing but understanding and communicating.

“And I will leave you with a question: If the Bible, the primary source of our religion, is the greatest story ever told, why would anyone suggest that it needed, desperately needed, ‘pizzazz’? And I will suggest an answer to that question. The ‘pizzazz’ that allegedly is needed is brought out through gratuitous sex and violence in the most execrable taste imaginable.”

Krieg was on his feet, his complexion a preamble to a seizure. But before he could speak, a student broke in.

“Excuse me, Rabbi”-the student spoke loudly enough to override Krieg’s first syllables-“this is a sort of delicate point, but ‘the greatest story ever told’ and ‘execrable taste’ are apples and oranges.”

“The ‘delicate point’?” Winer inquired.

“P.G. Press books generally sell better than yours.”

The smile almost returned to Krieg’s face.

Winer shrugged. “It is as the man said: No one ever went broke underestimating the taste of the American public.”

“For what it’s worth, Rabbi,” said the student, “I think that is a cop-out.”

“Young man. .” Sister Janet began a reproof in a tone familiar to many parochial students of yore.

“It’s all right, Sister,” Winer assured her, “let the young man speak his piece. We want this conference to be as open and honest as possible. You were saying, young man?”

For a moment, the student seemed impressed enough with Winer’s forbearance to possibly withdraw his antagonistic comment. But his next thought was to make his point. “Whatever other reasons we’ve got for writing-altruistic maybe-we want to get published, we want to be circulated and read, we want to sell, we want to make money. I think P.G. Press has a pretty good track record doing just that.”