First, let me say that I never worked for a radical magazine like The Outsider, which, according to Gerald Howard in his preface to Wilfrid Sheed’s comic novel, Office Politics, is based on magazines such as The Nation, Dissent, and The New York Review of Books.

 When I worked in an office, I never noticed the politics, if there were any, which I doubt. I never thought about the office except when I listened to the weather in the morning to decide whether or not to ride my bike to work.

In Wilfrid Sheed’s witty, sometimes bitter novel, Office Politics, set in New York City, nobody bicycles:  they are too busy hopping into taxis and smoking cigarettes.  The small staff at The Outsider, a progressive magazine, are depressed, because no matter how great their editing and writing, there is no chance of promotion.  The editor-in-chief,  Gilbert Twining, a brilliant Englishman, is so charming that no one knows whether he has been complimented or bullied until Gilbert finishes talking. 

 There has been enough mayhem at the office that the newest editor, George, who quit his job at a TV network to work for the magazine, is exhausted.  Part of the problem is that Gilbert “invites” George (command performance) to go drinking every night after work. Gilbert talks for hours about his obsession with pretty girls:  he looks at them but does not cheat on his wife.  George arrives home drunk late every night, and his wife is annoyed.

Office Politics is not exactly a satire.  It has been compared to Lucky Jim, but it is not nearly as light-hearted and funny. George is the lucky Jim of Office Politics, the rebel who makes a stand, but the brutality of the office is very different from the goofiness of academia. The browbeaten support staff is never allowed to do anything creative, and the ad man and the secretary/office manager are often nearly hysterical.

Gilbert oppresses everybody.  The two senior editors, hard-working, overweight Brian and cynical, scheming Fritz, are both bachelors who want to overthrow the magazine hierarchy.  At last they get their chance when Gilbert goes to California to give a lecture and has a heart attack. 

One expects utopia, right?  No, not at all.  The power dynamics are terrible. When earnest Brian snatches power, he micro-manages and gets lost in semicolons.  And he hysterically derides the ad man and the secretary even more cruelly than Gilbert did.

So can Fritz make the grade?  He plots to take over the office.  Every day, he humiliates Brian and tries to destroy his confidence.  And he also trash-talks about Brian to George over power lunches at ritzy restaurants.

Fritz is vicious, but he makes some salient points about Brian’s editing style.

“…This morning for instance we had a thing about putting the semicolon inside or outside the quotes on the stuff that comes from England.  I can’t even remember which side he was on, and something else about changing the typeface on editorials.”

(N.B. Yes, we’ve all met the kings and queens of semicolons. Do they need a semicolonoscopy?)

Soon it becomes obvious that Brian isn’t fit for the job but that Fritz will be a worse despot.  Gilbert is still in California. George is depressed. Who is the best person for the job?

We’re not sure which way George will jump. It seems likely that he will escape like lucky Jim, or perhaps he will deliberately stop just short of the finish line like Smith in The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner. The ending is surprising. Sheed had many choices, but I think he picked the right one.

This is a comedy of sorts, but the culture of the office is horrifying.  One friend did describe her office to me as “a bloodbath” when the publishing industry was floundering earlier this century and the staff cut dramatically.

I hope your own office experience has been as benign as mine. My favorite office job was unbelievably mellow. Paradise, really.