A couple of weeks ago, while I still had money in the bank, I went online and bought Charles Nelson's The Boy who Picked the Bullets up, on the strength of the same author's Panthers in the Skins of Men which had excited and entranced me--best investment I ever made. A totally wonderful, totally validating, totally my kind of book. Criticism seems to be scarce. Only Ethan Mordden, in his introduction to a collection of gay short stories entitled Waves, seems to have any idea of the significance of Nelson's work. Nobody that I know of has any understanding of his basic, paradoxical [Gay] Moral Sanity. Certainly not (I'll bet my jewels) the New York Times.