A Cool Million

Nathanael West's satire on the Horatio Alger myth takes literal chunks out of its hero -- eye, leg, thumb, scalp -- who nonetheless maintains his guileless hopes. West's aim is so wide that no one is spared. For example, a certain Sylvanus Snodgrasse is neatly dispatched: "Like many another 'poet,' he blamed his literary failure on the American public instead of on his own lack of talent, and his desire for revolution was really a desire for revenge. ... Having lost faith in himself, he thought it his duty to undermine the nation's faith in itself." And that may be the secret of the best satire: It cannot merely be a outpouring of bitter humor and scorn. At its center there must be a tiny, flickering spark of love.