Word: ain
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...because "educated people pay attention to their views. For example, in the February, 1962 Readers's Digest..." Publisher Ginzburg tells us about his courageous interview with George Lincoln Rockwell, someone who "proves it can happen here." And finally, a man named Bennett, clearly a member of the if-it-ain't-filthy-it-ain't-real school of psychoanalysis, probes the sexual symbolism of Christmas. Not surprisingly, Santa comes out of it, Father Santa. How dull...
...ruined. In What You Hear from 'Em?, Aunt Muncie, the Negro housekeeper, retains a measure of dignity only as long as she can believe that the two white boys she raised for a widowed doctor will come back home to live. But when she realizes that "they ain't never coming back," she feels somehow demeaned and resorts to "old nigger foolishness...
...pollsters rarely reach the farmers and retired old people who live along these roads. When a stranger calls to one of them as he wipes the mud off his tractor's engine with a stick, the farmer ambles over to the road's edge, considering the question: "I ain't sure, Mister. I ain't sure I should say even if I was sure...
...Ain't." Abandoned here, Beckett's book would have been a maddening parody of all human effort to pose the existence of God, either from man's need or from the ordered complexity of the universe. But the author presses on to a familiar clench-jawed conclusion. Bom has imagined it all-the encounter with Pirn, the divine listener, the grand design. He is alone in the mud with arms spread in the pitiful shape of a cross. His only solace is the belief that someday he will...
...bland assertion of Beckett's title -How It Is-is likely to engender the irritated reply, "No, it ain't." Yet the real fault of this book and of Beckett's recent works is not the question of whether God exists or whether life has meaning. It is that despite Beckett's ingenuity, his touches of great eloquence, his flashes of brilliant wit, he simply has nothing new to say, and what he says over and over again does not much need saying. As with most of Beckett's metaphors for the human condition...