DICTATION: A Quartet.
Cynthia Ozick. Houghton Mifflin. 192 pages. $24.
In the title story of Cynthia Ozick's new collection, the Polish-born English novelist Joseph Conrad reflects on the ''glorious lavishness'' of Henry James' prose. Ozick cut her teeth on James, and in a half century of fiction writing she has never forgotten the lessons of the master. The four stories in this slim volume would have probably met with his finicky approval. Grounded in expressive detail, they follow James' admonition to catch ''the color of life itself,'' with the cascading grace of Ozick's style complementing her insights into human folly.
In Dictation, a chance meeting occurs between James and Conrad's stenographers: Theodora Bosanquet and Lilian Hallowes. Like her employer, Theodora is gay, though far more brazen about it; Lilian harbors unrequited love for the married Conrad. As ''the conduits of genius,'' they believe they deserve a place in literary posterity, so they join forces to put their stamp on two classic tales.
Wryly feminist in tone, this is an amusing examination of the nature of authorship. The Edwardian setting passes historical muster. A footnote shrugs off the few dates that are wrong as an artist's prerogative to be loose with the facts.
Some time ago Ozick took up playwriting, with mixed results. Out of this experience arose Actors, about a self-hating Jewish actor who reluctantly accepts a Lear-like role in a Jewish tragedy. The ethnic emotionalism demanded of him is not his cup of tea; he prefers Gentile reserve: ''Something grand, aloof, cynical; he could do Brit talk beautifully.'' But just when it looks like he will succeed, a ghost of Yiddish theater past punctures his facade.
Chronic guilt is shared by indoctrinated Jews and Catholics, and At Fumicaro explores its manipulative effect on the latter. In Mussolini's Italy, an American art critic has a steamy fling with a teenager. But his religion prevents him from treating it casually or from even patting himself on the back for behaving nobly: ``He saw that he had committed the sin of heroism, which always presumes that everyone else is unreal, especially the object of rescue.''
Ozick saves the best for last, with What Happened to the Baby? The narrator recalls a family friend who invented a universal language to counter Esperanto. A Joe Gould-like figure who haunts 1940s Greenwich Village, he appears to be merely another street hustler until his ex-wife reveals the sad reason behind his obsession. This story is a perfect example of the expansive possibilities of a neglected genre.
This year marks the beginning of Ozick's ninth decade, but her mind is as supple and comprehensive as ever. She will, one hopes, continue to run circles around the younger talent in the field.
Ariel Gonzalez teaches at Miami Dade College.
