Salter does have an audience. His memoir, Burning the Days(1), received attention, and in the 1960s he contributed screenplays for popular movies like Downhill Racer. But Salter’s novels and short stories have not found broad readership. As an admirer, I have tried to make sense of this problem. It may be that the work seems dated. The subject matter and viewpoint are ruggedly, unashamedly masculine. War and womanizing play central roles. The style draws on Hemingway and, more especially, the existential novels of the postwar period. The tone is unsparing. No man, however well-meaning, will remain likable to the reader. Every weakness of the characters will be exploited, every flaw revealed. Considerations of social class enter in a manner that can seem old-fashioned—as if F. Scott Fitzgerald were right that the rich are different, and more fascinating. But oh, the way Salter pulls it off! The sentences are adamantine. The control is absolute. If Salter wants to change voice, he does, peremptorily. The author is in charge. We can trust that the tale will be a good one.