Whatever else might go into a definition of true art, it must be capable of transcending it’s own era. For years (ever since the Dick Cavette show was cancelled, actually) it has been obvious that Mailer’s work will not accomplish this feat. As Kimball so clearly explains, it is impossible to understand Mailer’s prominence apart from the era that spawned him, an era into which he offered no insight or deeper understanding, but, rather, accepted at face value. His place in history will be up in the cheap seats, right next to Abbie Hoffman, Timothy Leary, Jefferson Airplane, and “My Mother the Car.” It wasn’t all a silly time, but Mailer embodies that faction that mistook its silliness for insight, excess for creativity and infantile expressions for a bold new direction. The 60s offered indisputable evidence of how things can really go wrong; the inevitable, subsequent corrections have, of necessity, been beneficial to the whole society. That Kimball’s essay, on Art’s and Letters, is the only one among the numerous Mailer obits listed under the heading “and a dissent” only shows that there is still a good bit of correction left to accomplish.