Never heard from Michael Lewis, whom you dub an American celebrity writer, but I am all in favor of his current tour of Europe (“No Longer among the Euro-Weenies,” August 20, 2011). As you explain, he is best known for penning “entertaining accounts” of life on Wall Street. Now he is touring Europe’s troubled economies, starting with Ireland. But he has excited your ire on account of his dabbling with mighty Germany. In particular, he went as far as fooling around with its ingrained “fascination with feces” in connection with its abhorrence of other countries’ debt. Yuckety yuck. But there is something about Lewis that I appreciate without much hesitation: so far he has managed to avoid persecution for libel because he is nothing but a fiction writer. A clever trick, this. The writers of the European Enlightenment resorted to fiction whenever they wanted to skirt the persecution of the almighty church. So much for intellectual freedom in this brave new world of ours.