Chicago Sun-Times: Hooray for the silver spoon

IN PRAISE OF NEPOTISM: A NATURAL HISTORY

BY ADAM BELLOW

DOUBLEDAY. $30.

When I was growing up, we had a spoon in a kitchen utensil drawer that came to be known as "the Mouseturd Spoon." This old, tarnished item of silverware earned its name some long-ago midnight when a mouse scratched its way out from behind the cupboards, crept into the drawer and deposited a dropping inside the curvature of a spoon. My mother washed the spoon, put it back in the drawer and told us all to forget about it. But for years afterward, we kids hesitated when pouring a bowl of cereal for fear that we would open the drawer and reach for a spoon, and there it would be sitting right on top, like the bullet in a game of Russian roulette--the dreaded Mouseturd Spoon.

When I think about it, it is the only silver spoon that ever made a difference--for better or worse--in my world. I have never been the benefactor of a rich uncle, or an aunt with an oversized nest egg or, for that matter, a parent with a Nobel Prize collecting dust on the mantle. A rodent tarnished the only silver spoon I've ever known. And I would have it no other way. There's pride in earning your stripes.

But countless people have had their stripes handed to them on a platter--a world foreign to the majority of Americans. And this is why I read with interest, Adam Bellow's new book lauding the merits of a silver-spoon society, In Praise of Nepotism: A Natural History. I was intrigued by the very concept of a devil's advocate approach to the age-old practice of familial favoritism.

On the surface, Bellow's book is primed for controversy: the son of Saul Bellow, the Nobel Prize-winning author, pens a historical and eager defense of a cultural dirty word--nepotism. It is Bellow's hypothesis that nepotism is not only good for the world but also essential to its very existence. Bellow postulates that we are in the midst of a nepotistic revolution, where dynastic hand-me-downs are the order of the day. He calls this silver-spoon revolution, the "New Nepotism." And at the crux of Bellow's argument are the questions:

"What does it mean? Why is it happening now in the most democratic and individualistic society on earth? Doesn't it fly in the face of our commitment to equal opportunity and merit? Are we creating a new caste hierarchy based on occupation, similar to that of the medieval guilds? More to the point, how will we square our embrace of the New Nepotism with our traditional aversion to the Old?"

Bellow sets out on a quest to bring respectability and a cultural understanding to his subject and, in doing so, perhaps validate his own heritage. As an editor at large for Doubleday (the publisher of his book--more nepotism?), Adam Bellow is a publishing force in his own right. And he addresses dead-on his ascension in the book business and its relationship to his father's stature.

"Though my father had nothing to do with my getting a job, my employers were aware of the connection, and they undoubtedly assumed not only that I had "the right stuff" to be an editor by virtue of my parentage, but that my name and social background would be useful in my publishing career. They were right on both counts."

It is Bellow's argument that with the "New Nepotism," a name may get you in the door, but only talent, hard work and merit will keep you from getting thrown out. And this, the author suggests, is part of the healthy, newfangled meritocracy of the 21st Century.

With In Praise of Nepotism, Bellow shows how the world got to this point. He does so by charting the long, often fascinating, often dull- as-drying-paint, sociological history of nepotism. The sweeping global account spans the ages, from the clan system of ancient China, to the Greek and Roman oligarchies, right on up to modern-day, pop- culture America.

Nepotism, Bellow shows, is more prevalent today than ever before. The New Nepotism thrives in modern politics (the Bushes); it thrives in Hollywood (the Douglases); it's alive and well in sports (the currently beleagurered Kobe Bryant and father Joe "Jellybean" Bryant); and in pop music (Julio and Enrique Iglesias). And these are just a few of the examples given by Bellow to show how family ties afforded a chance to succeed and raw talent paid the bill.

In Praise of Nepotism truly soars when Bellow examines, to great effect, nepotism in the animal kingdom. We are not the only species who favor our kin, the author shows. Given the grand scope of his history, Bellow writes with considerable scholarship, all the more impressive because that he is not a professional sociologist, natural historian or anthropologist.

And this is, ultimately, the audience that Bellow's book will reach: scholars and intellectuals. For certain, this erudite treatise is no beach read. In fact, Bellow could have taken his own editorial scalpel to his miles-long polemic (the book clocks in at just under 600 pages). Given the Emperor's New Clothes factor, Bellow's book is bound to get solid reviews, considering the East Coast literati's love affair with his father and the fact that critics don't want to cop to falling asleep to something so drenched in Ivy League highbrow.

Still, In Praise of Nepotism is a remarkable feat of philosophy and history, interesting to those who benefited from a silver spoon, all the way down to those who, at the end of the day, were only given an offering by a smart-aleck mouse.

Sam Weller is a professor of creative nonfiction at Columbia College and the former Midwest correspondent for Publishers Weekly. He is at work on the authorized biography of Ray Bradbury, to be published by Morrow.

"Though my father had nothing to do with my getting a job, my

employers . . .

undoubtedly assumed not only that I had the 'right stuff' to be an editor by virtue of my parentage, but that my name and background would be useful . . . "

ADAM BELLOW

Son of Saul Bellow