Special Feature

Paradise on Demand Lionel S. Lewis and Dennis Brissett

he apparent inability of some Americans to enjoy leisure has been a recurrent theme in social commentaries over the last three decades. Ironically, the increase in "free time," "free money," and easy credit occasioned by the modernization of society seems not to have freed Americans from their puritan commitment to work. Many people take second jobs; others transform their homes into work places. Still others measure their play by work standards. While idleness may no longer be considered the devil's workshop, busyness is certainly construed as the path to fulfillment, self-actualization, and success. To do nothing is to waste one's time, energy, and, possibly, money. To do anything without specific purpose is to blunt one's potential, for in contemporary society, the narcissistic search for meaning ignores the value of doing something for its own sake. People increasingly manipulate other people, as well as their own activity, for the larger purpose of personal growth and development. It is not surprising, then, that a favorite leisure pastime of many Americans involves using free time and money in order to travel. Traveling is a consuming activity in all senses of the word. One must prepare, one must depart, and one must return ready to share one's experiences with others. No matter that the traveler often has become a tourist, merely verifying predigested experiences with what Boorstin has called pseudo-events; he still is not idle, frittering away potentially valuable time and energy. Moreover, the purposes of vacation travel are varied--the vacation as work, as education, as paradise, as another opportunity to consume, as a time to be indulged--if not exacting. One need not worry about why one is traveling; the idea of purposeless travel has become nearly a contradiction in the American consciousness. The usual experience of leisure travel for most Americans has evolved around the vacation. Ideally, vacations are respite from the obligations of work, a time to relax, to be free from the irksome structured activity of one's work-a-day world. Increasingly, though, they have become times of being active, of doing, rather than undergoing. While the vacationer of the past might feel that

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doing nothing was the implied reward for hard work, the contemporary vacationer seems to view that time as an opportunity to expand his experiences and knowledge of the world. Today, increasingly, people " g o on" vacations. In former times, they simply " t o o k " them.

Purposive Vacations Vacations have come to be dominated by an ethic of purposiveness; for the most part, people know not only why they are going on vacation, but what to expect when they get there. In fact, the realization of purpose tends to be the criterion by which vacations are judged good or bad, or even enjoyable. The ideal vacation seems to be one that carefully serves the goals for which it was intended. In order to characterize this ethic of purposiveness, we turned to the seemingly endless variety of vacation literature (much of it printed for organized tours) available to individuals through commercial travel agents. The focus of the commerical vacation literature is directed toward spending time at particular places, either foreign or domestic. Some attention is also given to the journey itself. Needless to say, such vacations typically represent a considerable investment of the vacationer's time and money. We have necessarily ignored those vacations where people simply putter or work around the house, such vacations always having been typified by activity and purpose. We also ignored the travel involved in visiting family, friends, and acquaintances, though these journeys seem to be increasingly characterized by activity and purpose. Following Strauss's analysis of urban imagery, our examination of this literature was grounded in the belief that the imagery contained in vacation literature establishes a symbolic world that functions to influence the vacationer. The brochures both shape and articulate the distinction now made between work and non-work in American society. A primary design of most travel literature is to orient the would-be vacationer to the sights, sounds, comfort, and activity of vacation places; indeed, to transform the

0147-2011/81/0701-0013502.50/1 9 1981 Transaction, Inc.

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naive potential traveler into a professional vacationer. Vivid and detailed descriptions of the varied opportunities for sightseeing, eating, drinking, and other activity promise the traveler a unique experience of gratifying the senses in a tolerant and comfortable milieu. A particular vacation may, for example, "provide a full, complete and unabridged program of sightseeing." But most of all, there is activity; one vacation place is described as "the Action place with lively, non-stop Action." No matter what the traveler's preferences, the range of available activity is endless, even if it involves simply "working on a tan." The cataloguing of things to do seems limited only by the frailty of the human imagination. Throughout, the vacationer is admonished that to satisfy one's every wish is not only acceptable, it is expected. Doing something, however, does not seem its own reward. The implicit message in the travel literature is that a professional vacationer should clearly have something larger in mind. Vacations are viewed as means, not ends. To be sure, in some instances, relaxation and fun are cited as acceptable rationales for activity, though usually only if there is strong and unstinting commitment to these rather undignified purposes. For the most part, the vacation literature makes clear that there is much to be gained if the traveler will only use his vacation time with resolve and dedication. The dominant theme here is the broadening and enrichment of one's personal experiences and, consequently, perspective on life. Whether one sets out to partake of the breathtaking beauty of the Grand Tetons or Swiss Alps, or to study the civilizations of the Southwest Indians or the ancient Greeks, or to forage in the backreaches of modem civilization or in the entrails of the most modem urban centers, the purpose is often defined in terms of personal growth. It is not the satisfaction of simple curiosity or the fun that one will have that is deemed important. Rather, it is the sense of development and enrichment resulting from a careful appreciation of different cultural and social experiences. Sometimes, merely a sense of history is t o u t e d - - " at lease once in a lifetime, every American should take a step back into history by visiting Philadelphia" or Boston. The experience may not seem all that enriching on the surface, as in "shaking hands with a kangaroo." Nor is the acquisition of enriching experiences necessarily all that time-consuming or arduous; one brochure points out that " y o u learn much about Korea simply by walking from room to room in the Sheraton Walker Hill." But the point is that you learn, you do not merely enjoy. Whether the modus operandi is a guided tour, lecture, photo safari, or simply talking with the natives, the emphasis is on the careful enlargement of one's personal horizons. As the enrichment of one's experience is good, so also is the acquisition or development of personal skills. Photographers and archeologists are provided ample opportunity to exercise their talents. Tennis specials, golf specials, skiing specials, jogging specials, even fossick-

ing specials are abundant. For those who wish to learn new skills, there are instructors and specialists in nearly every facet of the fine art of avocational counseling, be it swimming, sailing, bowling, needlepoint, windsurfing, scuba diving, dancing, boomerang throwing, or sheep sheafing. Again, the emphasis is on doing, but also on doing things correctly. Mere loafing or gawking seems to be considered undesirable, but less so than being a mere amateur at one's activity. Unless, that is, the vacationer is interested more in being at the " f i g h t " place at the " f i g h t " time. In some brochures, the development or maintenance of a high prestige "identity" seems to offset the importance of having enriching experiences or developing personal skills. Here the exclusiveness of the locale seems to mitigate against any necessary activity. "Dining regally," or "reclining in the lap of l u x u r y . . , in an exclusive Florida retreat" promises prestige, not action. Experiencing "jet set living" or occupying "the legendary home of Kauai's ruling class" takes precedence over the pedestrian activities of the not-so-fortunate vacationers. Those persons desiring prestige can be assured that their accommodations "are individually selected for the discriminating traveler" and that they will be staying in "deluxe hotels whose names [ t h e y ] . . . will want to put o n . . . [their] postcards." And the most pleasant part of all of this is that the vacationer need only be there. He need not be preoccupied by anything but his presence. For those not so fortunate to be at the " f i g h t " place and those who disdain the incessant pursuit of enrichment or skill development, there is always the luxury of falling back on the American penchant for acquiring material goods. The variety of goods available to the eager consumer is seemingly endless: locally made perfumes, native straw work and wood carvings, china and crystal lamps, jewelry made from conch shells, leather goods, pottery and authentic handicrafts, wicker work, " t o p a " woven mats and Indian saris, dolls in native costume, ceramics, dirndls, cashmeres and tartans, silks, liquors and even "honeymoon shirts" are but some of the "unique" artifacts the willing vacationer may acquire. While purchases are typically made to embellish the homes, the offices, or the bodies of vacationers upon their return home, the purchase of some goods is immediately useful. One brochure advises its clients " t o shop for a colorful aloha shirt or muumuu to wear to tonight's get-acquainted cocktail party," while another promises that " o n the way home we will exchange impressions and boast of our purchases." Overall, to shop while vacationing is touted as an exercise of one's adroitness at consumerism. Vacationers are admonished to " c o m p a r e . . , bargaining skills with Thai housewives"; " t o pass up a purchase and move on to another stall, rather than give i n - - i t ' s a game you will come to enjoy"; to " b e prepared to mix, get involved, bargain and most of all, b u y . " To encourage purchasing, the advantages of duty-free allowances are extolled. In a truly American vein, one travel company even issues a shopping dis-

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count card which is "valid for purchases at popular stores in Lima, Cuzco and Iquitos."

Searching for Paradise From the beginning of recorded human history, people have been in search of paradise. Evidence of this pursuit is at the heart of all cultures9 From the Greek poet Hesiod and the biblical Garden of Eden, through Thomas Aquinas and Dante to Bacon and Marx, the idea of a celestial or terrestrial paradise has been a persistent theme in Western thought9 Some observers of the American scene contend, however, that this preoccupation is absent in contemporary society9 Lionel Trilling has argued, for example, that "in the degree that the promises of the spiritual life are made in terms of pleasure---of comfort, rest and beauty--they have no power over the modern imagination 9 Peace and bliss, he continues, "propose to us a state of virtually infantile passivity which is the negation of the 'more life' that we crave . . . . We dread Eden . . . . " This seems an overstatement. The paradisiacal life may have to be slightly modified to satisfy the seemingly contradictory needs of relaxation on the one hand, and the " m o r e life" on the other9 The brochures are full of evidence that the search is continuous. Those qualities usually thought to be essential elements of paradise, the expression of our innermost desires--naturalness, peace, harmony, innocence, and the like--seem remote from the daily lives of many Americans9 Not unexpectedly, most vacation literature promises such a world: an unspoiled garden, a perfect repose, an ideal escape9 A traveler may expect to find on a vacation all of those elements which have traditionally characterized paradise: "trees, water, fruit, birds, flowers, breezes, fragrant odors, fertile earth, harmony and proper order among all living things 9 The harsh, arid land yields gold, iron, opals and great harvests of wheat, wine, and fruits. On her pastures are bred the finest Merino sheep9 Out beyond the lights and laughter, Waikiki is another world at night9 The darkness breathes with the rise and fall of the surf. The wet sand is cool; footprints of the day have washed away. A warm wind rustles the palms. The peace seems timeless9 This is Waikiki as it was before anyone cared to count the hours of the day . . . . Salt spray, exotic foods and flowers scent the air. One knows he or she is in paradise when contact has been made with nature (the sun, wind, snow, surf, land, sea, and sky) and nature's children (native people: " Y o u can hear New Yorkers speaking an English all their own, with a hundred different accents"). Most of the time this contact is superficial and segmented, for these foreign people are represented as just another part of the local

color--much like the standardized hotel decorations or souvenirs that can be purchased in the tourist shop in the hotel lobby9 Sometimes natural surroundings seem unnecessary. the Americana is just across the street from world famous Bal Harbour Mall, where stores such as Saks Fifth Avenue, Neiman-Marcus and Cartier offer the ultimate shopping experience. One can go, for example, on a Toledo shopping excursion which includes a visit to the Libbey Glass Factory Outlet, Farmer Jack's Super Market, and K-Mart, in addition to a stop at a shopping mall "which has 76 stores, including Montgomery Ward and Lions." It seems the ideal earthly paradise may combine natural or rural charm with urban convenience 9 The descriptions, nonetheless, largely reflect a purity and perfection that was Adam and Eve's, if not always that of their twentieth-century descendants. To be sure, Eden is not always pictured as a pristine environment 9 It is, in fact, more often than not represented as a place where people can have fun, a great deal of fun, no matter what their interests: "Overlooking the magnificent harbor from Victoria Peak, Hong Kong offers scenic splendors, free-port shopping, non-stop entertainment and delicious foods." Although the brochures often make implicit and explicit mention of earthly or sensate pleasures such as sex ( " a perfect holiday for singles . . . . there are so many people to do it with"), such references are no more frequent than those to sand, sun, sports, sightseeing, and the sea. The sexual element does not take on a special significance, although some brochures offer an ample complement of scantily dressed sunbathers. Sex is depicted as just another activity along with sunning on a deck chair or on a palm-fringed beach, mastering a championship golf course, or sweeping down a ski slope9 In this plush resort not far from Tel Aviv, you find the biggest cars and the smallest bikinis. 9149 the most intimate restaurants and the most modern hotels9 Most importantly, it could all be good, clean fun, nothing like a Roman Saturnalia. 9 so we trekked soggily back to our car and went back to our condo 9 That wasn't the end of it, though9 A few days later we found our way back, and spent a glorious afternoon, swimming and sliding like two children of nature, with all of paradise to enjoy by ourselves9

The more senses fed at the same time, the better. " L i v e amidst antiques9 Savor lobster, homemade apple pie, potables from our tavern. Nomaan Rockwell Museum close b y . " Food without cultivation, plenty with-

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out labor, has always been a paradisiacal theme. Much of this is not unlike Ovid's description: The earth herself, without compulsion, untouched by hoe or plowshare, of herself gave all things needful. And men, content with food which came with no o n e ' s seeking, gathered the arbute fruit . . . . Anon the earth, untilled, brought forth her stores of grain and the fields,' though unfallowed, grew white with the heavy, bearded wheat. Streams of milk and streams of sweet nectar flowed, and yellow honey was distilled from the verdant oak. Paradise is merely more of the world of food, lodging, souvenirs, and the like that is the everyday experience of its inhabitants. In other words, it is another commodity in a consuming society - - t h e perfect place to indulge hedonism. Searching for paradise in the fleeting present rather than some distant past or future gives the pursuit an ephemeral character not so apparent in other times and places.

Predictable Adventure In addition to harmony and perpetual springtime, the vacationer must also be provided comforts--comforts not only of the familiar, but also of the technically advanced and highly organized world that Americans know so well. "Aruba has a high living standard. So the water is clean. The electricity works. And everything runs on time." To make sure the vacationer is not overwhelmed by strangeness, a common reference point can be used. Our journey continues as we motor east through the picturesque Austrian countryside to Salzburg, the famed "Sound of Music" city. . . . the full day excursion to Lefaga Village, where "Return to Paradise" with Gary Cooper was filmed. Or visit nearby Mismaloya in Puerto Vallarta where the film "Night of the Iguana" was shot with Richard Burton and Ava Gardner. It is made clear that nature can indeed imitate art. It would seem that a balance between the recognizable and unusual is deemed the most desirable, a paradise that is at once strange and familiar. . . . just 40 off-shore miles from Florida's Miami Beach, but a whole world away from your usual day-to-day routine. It's more modern than most spots in the Caribbean a r e a . . , perhaps that's why so many go back again and again. Even with all the promised activity, the literature stipulates that the vacationer should be completely at ease. Everything will be taken care of; little left to chance. Daily activities are so planned that one can be certain there will be few surprises. The vacationer will be

safe from spontaneity as well as from the unexpected. " F o u r Winds takes care of everything for y o u . " Those who are still unsure are told in more than one brochure that they "will be pampered." Olson promises that a vacation will be "well planned, excellently executed, personally escorted" so as to be "carefree and economical." There are "arrangements for hotels, transportation, special features and local guides" so that one is "relieved of the myriad travel chores which frequently can mar an otherwise ideal experience." Because some aspects of this life may appear novel, it must be depicted as very ordered, predictable, and controllable. It is obvious, then, that while a principal theme in the travel literature directs the vacationer toward new (or at least atypical) experiences, there are sufficient assurances that a vacation will also be characterized by familiar and comfortable elements. While the literature promotes the extension and development of one's lifestyle, it also proffers constant reassurance that the vacationer will be secure during his involvement in the novel and sometimes exotic worlds through which he will travel. Nowhere is this sense of security more clearly indicated than in the numerous characterizations of travel agents as true professionals in whom people can put their complete trust: Architect, Lawyer, Doctor. You use their services because you need their professional knowledge, their integrity, and their genuine interest in you. And so it is with your Travel Agent: a competent professional you can count on for service and advice on any and all aspects of your vacation: flights, fares, accommodations, tours, rental cars and so on. No matter where you go or how long you stay, trust your Travel Agent to show you the way that's best for you! Although some of the literature assures that its promises will be delivered--some even offering money-back guarantees--the emphasis is rather on the stipulation that the professional travel agent knows y o u - - w h o e v e r you are--well enough to plan a vacation that will ensure a continuity with your everyday needs and expectations. Growth, perhaps; but not disruption. Development, certainly; but not change. Surprise, maybe; but no disappointment. Excitement and perhaps even apprehension; but never embarrassment. This sense of continuity is apparent in the coaching that is either conveyed or promised in the travel literature, often touching upon such specific matters as currency and tipping, climate, safety tips, and especially clothing. Vacationers are constantly advised that it will be necessary to modify their attire according to the time of year, locale, and nature of activity. In most instances, a rather definite line is drawn between formal and informal attire: "Bathing suit, native wraparound sulu and shorts are ideal for daytime wear at resorts, but not in town or villages, where dress is formal." Rarely is the matter of dress code left open, although one brochure did stipulate

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to "dress how you like. On one of our private beaches, undress how you like." Very often, orientation sessions are planned for the vacationer: . . . lectures and discussions designed to supplement your knowledge of the destination; they include, to some destinations, walking tours, guide books and specialized literature, briefings, special invitations and gatherings. They seek to highlight the distinctive characteristics of each city or resort area. If this is not enough, many vacations include the knowledgeable tour director or guide who enables the traveler to get the full picture: " . . . customs, tradition.., people, all are discussed, described, explained as you actually see them, questions answered as they occur." A sense of security emerges from the careful delineation of agenda, itineraries, and scheduling. It would be easy to mock the brochures of many package tours because they appear to be so pre-programmed and overscheduled as to resemble work schedules. Yet this does not seem as crucial as the fact that a well-specified vacation itinerary establishes a solid structural basis for the vacationer. While the content of the vacation might take one into the realm of the unfamiliar, the form of the vacation is stable and dependable. This stability and dependability of form is often buttressed by a thread of Americanization which is promised throughout the vacation. So although "cruising on a Delta Santa Liner is a unique experience, your ship is American with American officers and crews." One vacation provides "full American breakfasts and dinners everyday." Another promises "everything from McDonald's to elegant gourmet dining." Still another advertises their cruise as "like taking the best of the U.S. with you--the comforts and casual luxuries--as you travel to some of the most extraordinary destinations in the world." And the vacationer need not worry about a language barrier, at least when purchasing native artifacts: "best of all, you find no language barrier when making your purchases.., because English is spoken almost everywhere." Even that literature which does not cite the Americanization motif does usually speak to the feeling of being " a t home away from home" in different parts of the world. Again, a measure of the familiar underpins the experience of the unknown. In the best of all possible worlds, then, one can have the exotic at almost no risk, and one can be involved in a great deal of activity while seeming to relax. No matter what, one is as safe perhaps even safer---on vacation as in one's own living room. The modem vacationer need not concern himself with even the most basic responsibilities. One can return to the state of infantile passivity or dependency, safe and amused, while being on an "Adventure Tour." While you play on the beach the crew cooks lunch fish cooked over an open fire, eaten with

your fingers, followed by Bahamian fruits and all of the rum swizzle you can drink. It may all sound like a challenging undertaking, but the vacationer is told that it really isn't. With the uncertainties that usually accompany adventure minimized, people can have the predictable experience they are really seeking. At sea, but never out of sight of land, your sleek ship leisurely plies protected waterways through the maze of islands that fringe the west coast of British Columbia and Alaska. A final, prominent theme in the vacation literature involves the establishment and maintenance of friendly relations. Vacations are described as offering unique opportunities for contact and interaction with people in an open, friendly, and warm environment. While friendly relations may be construed as providing either purpose or reassurance, they are usually imbued with such significance as to permeate the whole vacation experience. The tolerant atmosphere of the vacation is said to engender a cordiality, intimacy, and warmth far exceeding that which characterizes the ordinary relations between people. Loneliness, rejection, and isolation are emotions unbecoming to the vacationer: There are no strangers . . . . From the first cordial introduction you have the warm feeling of belonging. You're an important member of the family. If you don't have a traveling companion, don't hesitate to join us. You will never need to feel lonely or left out, you'll be included in every activity, preplanned or spontaneous, by day or night. The literature constantly reiterates that "making new friends with whom to share new experiences is part of the pleasure of travel." And if a person is unable to form friendships with his fellow passengers, there is always a staff member who at the very least is a "congenial companion," perhaps even someone: Fluent in a variety of languages, well-versed in the history, economics, culture of Europe, he's also fun to be with. Well-educated and so well-bred you'll feel as if you are traveling with a delightful friend. His congeniality gives your trip that extra life that lifts it right out of the ordinary. And that's the way it should be. Assurances are given that human contacts will be primarily with people like oneself, but if all else fails, there are always the natives, depicted as eager to enter into close relations with the vacationer. In fact, developing friendly relations with the natives is often advertised as an added ingredient of any successful vacation and a cost-effective one to boot--one brochure proudly proclaiming that " i n Aruba--the friendship is free." Even if friendly relations somehow do not develop, at least the

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vacationer can learn how to be friendly by acquiring some of the graciousness and charm of the natives. Travel agents are advised that: Two weeks in our Fiji smile school could do your customers the world of good . . . . Don't feel too bad if the year you've had has left you short on condition (smile wise) or your winter has given you nothing to smile about. Our teachers will soon have you in great shape and smiling all day long without even raising a sweat.

Putting Life in Our Lifestyles The symbolic world created by commercial travel literature yields three principal themes. Vacations are depicted as times of rather feverish activity, the literature consistently prodding the vacationer to be in a high state of readiness in order to take advantage of the vast array of action possibilities. Secondly, vacations are construed as purposive behavior. The multiplicity of rationales and justifications cited in the literature would seem to preclude the possibility of the vacationer feeling anxious or guilty about spending hard-earned money and precious time on a good vacation. Vacations also are described as experiences that promote the development of warm and cordial relations with others. Short-term alliances or even dalliances are seen as an almost inevitable consequence of the vacation experience. It is not this emphasis on purposive activity and friendly relations that gives us pause, for these were rather anticipated given the nature of modern society, but rather the ambivalence toward vacations evident in the literature. People are instructed to enrich their lives, to develop their skills, to enlarge their horizons, to let loose; but at the same time, they are assured that all of this is not really very dissimilar in form from the manner in which they normally lead their lives. This blending of the ordinary with the extraordinary bespeaks a caution which can do little but diminsh the richness of one's time away from work. The blandest or most contrived experience becomes an adventure--all without uncertainty. It resembles watching attractive members of the opposite sex on the beach, a vicarious experience. Most of what is unusual or romantic about vacations is that they are in unusual or romantic places. There is novelty without physical discomfort. It has the makings of an illusion. The individual is promised that he or she can observe without actually experiencing. The amenities one has learned to expect are first and foremost assured. It is commonly understood that the new and different can be quite threatening, that people seem to feel most c o m f o r t a b l e in familiar surroundings. S o m e t h i n g familiar--animate or inanimate--can provide the sense of security necessary for vacationers to enjoy the strangeness of another country, another environment, or another mattress. The vacation literature promises that

the novelty of a strange macroenvironment can be experienced from a protected microenvironment. Vacations may be safe and interesting, but are they rejuvenating and exciting? Ideally, a vacation would be one of the few occasions able to provide people with experiences in which both the vagaries and supports of ordinary life are suspended temporarily. On vacation people could turn to creating a reality apart from the dictates and concerns engendered by their day-to-day commitments. Rather than simply describing the possibilities, the travel brochures actually define the situations of vacation. They offer promises, reassurances, directions, and injunctions to create a definition of the situation for the would-be vacationer. The literature directs not only the perception and overt action of the vacationer, but the sentiment and purpose as well. Through the specialized language of vacation literature, people are told what to look for, what to do, how to feel, and how to think while on vacation. Because they will not have an opportunity to see first and then define, it is doubtful that they will see anything more. It would seem to be a rare vacationer who would be free to construct a more personal and refreshing experience. It is possible that this ambivalence toward stepping out of the ordinary pace of society is a result of the " m a s s production of distraction" of which C. Wright Mills spoke. Suzanne Jordan has commented on the American disdain for personal deprivation, observing that many Americans now have extensive opportunities for instantaneous fulfillment of their wishes, An ethic of realization and fulfillment seems to be replacing an ethos of anticipation and yearning. Perhaps this is part of the dilemma, for to be able to satisfy one's whims with relative ease may leave individuals with a rather shallow sense of continuity and stability in life. It could be the awareness of this fact that establishes the caution, the hedge on truly stepping outside our familiar worlds. It appears that as the vacation has become an increasingly taken-for-granted element of people's life (or more accurately, work) style, it has become less significant. It may well be that we could put some life back into our lifestyles if we treated our experiences as unique and precious rather than common and disposable. Just possibly, the vacationer should be mindful of Bertrand Russell's advice that " t o be without some of the t h i n g s . . . you want is an indispensable part of happiness."ff]

Lionel S. Lewis is professor of sociology and adjunct professor of higher education at the State University of New York at Buffalo. He is the author o f Scaling the Ivory Tower: Merit and

Its Limits in Academic Careers. Dennis Brissett is professor of behavioral science and sociology at the University of Minnesota--Duluth School of Medicine. He is co-editor, with Charles Edgley, of Life As

Theater: A Dramaturgical Sourcebook. Lewis and Brissett co-authored "The Big Toe, Armpits, and Natural Perfume: Notes on the Production of Sexual Ecstasy" in Society 16:2.