Abstract
Since his death in 1987, Robert Penn Warren has suffered the peculiar fate of American writers who fit uneasily, if at all, into the schools we concoct to house our national genius. These iconoclasts (oth ers who come to mind are John Dos Passos, who never quite fills the mold of a naturalist or a modernist, and James Merrill, whose formal labyrinths outdid new formalism before it had a chance to be new) find their reputations torn between hagiography and desecration. Fortu nately, a few of Warren's literary works have survived this tug of war, and we can enter the next phase of critical review. The essential phase, one might add, because if a writer cannot belong to a school, he needs to be part of the connective tissue of the canon, or we will surely slough him off. Two of the books under review here delineate the web of influ
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