Short Notices

WASHINGTON, D.C. by Gore Vidal. 377 pages. Little, Brown. $6.95.

Writing a novel about the capital is like writing one about Hollywood--even truth is parody. In this political fiction, Gore Vidal (The Best Man) tries hard to bring the Washington scene of 1937-52 to life, but to little avail.

At the center of the cast is James Burden Day, a Roosevelt-hating conservative Senator from the Southwest and contender for the presidential nomination. The characters, moving woodenly through a familiar plot about political chicanery, include the usual domineering millionaire publisher, the conniving businessman who keeps Senators in his pocket, the venal journalist, the young idealist, the Communist-turned-anti-Communist, and droves of beautiful, compliant women. Almost everyone is a villain, and Vidal seems to dislike his characters even more than the reader is bound to. The author recently observed that American politicians "create illusions and call them facts." Washington attempts to dramatize this theme, but it's all an illusion--and that's a fact.

THEODORE ROOSEVELT by Nicholas Roosevelt. 205 pages. Dodd, Mead. $5.95.

The telephone rings in the big house at Sagamore Hill. "Is that you, Archie?" pipes a small boy's voice. "No, this is Archie's father," a man answers. "Oh, well, you'll do," says the small boy. "Tell Archie to be sure to come to supper tonight." Grinning, Archie's dad, the 26th President of the U.S., hangs up the receiver. "How the creatures do order one about," he says.

Teddy Roosevelt not only enjoyed taking telephone messages for his six children, he seemed happiest when playing with kids--particularly the noisy, energetic clan of 16 Roosevelt young cousins who congregated in the summers at his sprawling house on Long Island's Oyster Bay. He loved to lead them on cross-country hikes, and if he climbed over a huge log or waded through a muddy pond, each child was expected to do the same. When one wet and bedraggled little Roosevelt tried to explain to her angry mother that she merely had followed the leader, the mother snapped: "Just because your cousin Theodore behaves like an idiot is no reason why you should behave like an idiot!"

Such childhood reminiscences are the best part of this slight memoir by Nicholas Roosevelt, whose father James West Roosevelt was T.R.'s first cousin and closest friend. While he brings no new insights on T.R., the author, now 73, nevertheless contributes to history by setting down recollections that nobody else could have supplied.

THE PURLOINED PAPERWEIGHT by P. G. Wodehouse. 188 pages. Simon & Schuster. $4.50.

The publishers profess to be perplexed about whether this is 85-year-old Author Wodehouse's 70th or 80th or maybe even 90th book. No use trying to count, they say, because in Wodehouse's puzzling world, as in Einstein's, one and one don't always add up to two. Quite true. Old Wodehouse-masters know it is equally fruitless to try to unravel the plot in one of his potty idyls. In this book, he sets out to tell the tale of a cuckoo American millionaire's efforts to steal an 18th century paperweight from an English manor house. What he also does in his incomparable way is to prove that, for a fellow who started effervescing back in the Edwardian era, he has a lot of bubble left in him yet. In fact, his fans will find that this book leaves P.G. about where he was before: one of the funniest writers of this and bygone times.

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