Books: The Impish Iconoclast at 60

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Being 60 is a place that he is still getting used to. He reveals one instance of what "getting older" means in his case: "You don't have the strength to push people around any more." At this moment, Michael Mailer, 19, handsome and muscular, is heard moving about in a nearby room. Mailer leans forward in his chair and lowers his voice conspiratorially: "I used to be able to look at that kid and he'd cower."

The moment is quintessential Mailer, combining swagger, a touch of menace, self-mockery and high good humor. Such charm in close quarters could overwhelm a roomful of enemies. How could anyone not wish this impish iconoclast happiness, prosperity, long life, enough success to make him happy and enough failure to keep him on his toes? But mellowness? Hold that for a while, spare him and the rest of the world such tedious peace. Says Mailer: "I've never been impressed by mellowing. Usually the people who have mellowed always have just a touch of sadness, because maybe they shouldn't have survived. You just can't sit there and say, 'I'm in the prime of life, isn't it wonderful. Lose 10 Ibs., I'll be better than ever.' You always have to doubt yourself. The only security I ever feel is that I won't turn pious. But that's a dangerous remark to make, because the devil's always listening."

—By Paul Gray. Reported by Janice C. Simpson/New York