Peter De Vries's old habit, sustained through twenty novels, of larding his narrative with mots, wisecracks, and malapropisms has been regarded by some as a vitiation of an art comic enough without external embellishments. And it is true that he gives us the impression of storing nuggets or nugacities until he has enough to decorate a book; then comes the secondary task of deciding what the book shall be about. But he has made the technique his own—a mixture of social comedy and vaude-ville—and for him it works. Take the ending of [Sauce for the Goose]. There is a party, and a man we have not met before and will never meet again says, "I don't for the life of me understand why people keep insisting marriage is doomed. All five of mine worked out."

There are not only cracks; there are supererogatory situations inserted just...