One accepts [the characters in "His Own Man"] as artificial, polished and pleasantly unreal; their problems are not real problems, but those of a novelist experienced enough to know that all's well that ends badly…. "His Own Man" is sensibly restricted to less than 200 pages, and is written with such verve, such an effervescence of wit, that it is like taking a bubble bath, with a well-iced absinthe on the side. One emerges refreshed—and a little groggy.