Word: authorative
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Left. By Editor-Author Ed Howe, an estate valued at $200,000; in Atchison, Kans. To Society Editor Nellie Webb of his Globe, he left $1,500. To Niece Adelaide Howe he left $50,000. To Sons Eugene Alexander and James Pomeroy he left the remainder except for $1, which went to Daughter Mateel Howe Farnham who in 1927 won a $10,000 prize for Rebellion, a novel in which she satirized her father...
...turbulent, brawling in one of the bars; writers from the artists' colony amorously intriguing; rich yachtsmen, cabdrivers. These candidoes, written too deliberately from the "slice-of-life" point of view, too fortuitously presented in the plot, are not always so fortunate. But most readers will agree that Author Hemingway can rest well content with the knowledge that in Harry Morgan, hard, ruthless, implacable in his lonely struggle, he has created by far his most thoroughly consistent, deeply understandable character...
...among the more conscientious watchers of U. S. letters, the question still smouldered: What's to happen to Hemingway? On the twin assumptions that (1) once an author had chosen a given field he could not depart from it, and hence (2) once he had exhausted that field or the public had tired of it, he was through as a writer, Hemingway was through. He had made himself the principal spokesman of the violence, aimlessness, brutality of war and the wartime generation. Violence, aimlessness, brutality were pretty well washed up as literary material. Ergo, Hemingway too was washed...
...influence on contemporary literature. After these three books, however, came the slump. Apart from Win, er Take Nothing (1933), a volume of short stories, the eight succeeding years saw only two books, both failures. To most readers Death in the Afternoon (1932) was an impossibly verbose testimonial to the author's enthusiasm for the spectacle of bullfighting. Green Hills of Africa (1935) was an exhaustive and exhausting account of a month's big-game shooting, marred by the ill-temper of its gibing digressions on critics and fellow writers. The first had been letdown enough...
Overlooked, however, was the fact that Hemingway is far from being a run-of-the-mine writer, and so not entirely subject to such standards. Disregarded also were certain further clues. Green Hills of Africa, by its very ill-temperedness, hinted that the author, too, was worried. Death in the Afternoon, from one aspect a kind of huge "Anatomy of Death," contains much information on its author's basic philosophy. "All stories," he remarked there, "end in death, and he is no true-story teller who would keep that from you. . . . There is no lonelier man in death, except...