he Bread Company is a vaguely hoity-toity type establishment where we had fondue and beer with Michael Bérubé and Cary Nelson. They’ve got a real nice selection of breads, beers, fruits and cheeses. William had some kind of black beer (I think that’s what it was called, too, “Black Beer”) while Dirk, I and Bérubé each had fine foaming mugs of Alpha King Ale (big pint glasses—chilled).
We weren’t just having beer with Nelson and Bérubé because they were left wing intellectuals who generally sympathized with our goals in terms of restructuring American society. We wanted to talk to them, and they wanted to talk to us, because they were literary critics and every movement needs a couple of decent critics to describe how important literature is to society as a whole and to assure that the work of its writers will be taught well after the writers themselves are dead. Things hadn’t turned out so well with McCaffery in San Diego, but we thought Bérubé appealed to a wider audience anyhow. If McCaffery felt slighted, they could always take turns. |
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