Word: authoress
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...general obscurity and murky symbolism are quite justified. Granting Arcadia its moments of brilliant imagery, and a really fine scene between the artist and his ex-mistress, the poetry is not, intrinsically, worth the effort of picking what is good from the shielding verbiage. Neither does the authoress, V. R. Lang, enjoy so glittering a reputation that one is compelled to find out just what she means. Another poet's cry for "more substance and less art" is in order, despite many moments and touches of merit...
Unfortunately, she is about par for a blustery course. Robert Newton, as the law officer, and Emlyn Williams, a pirate, can do little more to support a disjointed script sagging mainly from the over-productive imagination of authoress Daphne du Maurier. Both the screen play and the acting proceed at a hurricane pitch, which makes Jamaica Inn seem considerably older than its tender fifteen years...
...half a dozen languages picked up along the way, lies almost as easily as she smiles, and has only one purpose: to get out of Greece and back to England and the safe, respectable provincial house where her mother's people lived. When Hebe finally leaves Greece, British Authoress Robertson seems to lose interest in the story. But until then, with an eye as piercing as Greek winter sunlight, she watches the cruel, stunted life of that bitter land during the civil war, when a whole village could be butchered for a few gold coins, or shrewdly examines...
...Scenery and Alexandra Orme's Paris Original are light summer fare, earmarked for twin hammocks stamped "His" and "Hers." Author Paul who often as not writes about Paris, this time has written an autobiographical boy-faces-life yarn set in the remote reaches of 1910 Idaho and Wyoming. Authoress Orme's novel is a girl-meets-love story set in the feline, high-fashion world of postwar Paris. Each book lightheartedly holds a slightly askew mirror up to human nature and smiles bittersweetly at what it sees...
...point here, a trace of something that does not stink, a sort of negative odor that puts it above Spades." There are people who love a country, and they find it stricken, and there is a girl whose love is wider than a country. It is good that the authoress loves the country of which she writes, but there is a vapid, too-plaintive air that distracts the sympathy of the reader. "If you were born in Israel, you were a sabra, tough and tan on the outside, sweating in the sun, your heart and lungs and everything crying...