Word: bleak
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Frank Thomas is definitely a major-league power hitter, and a good one, but he, Ashburn, and Kanehl, are really the only bright spots in the Mets' bleak picture. and next year there may be just Thomas and Kanehl...
...Hunt is about a war lover, a man for whom war is not hell but home. It is set in the bleak, blasted terrain of Korea a few months prior to the cease-fire at Panmunjom. Private Endore (John Saxon) is a broody loner. Each night he smudges up his face and like a blackface minstrel of death steals out behind the Chinese lines on a one-man patrol. With snakelike grace, he slithers up to an isolated and unwary outpost guard and slits his throat or plunges a knife into his heart. Then follows an infinitely more chilling ritual...
...Bleak Ending. The author's dawn men are a tiny, dejected band-six adults, one of them a moron (his mind makes few telepathic pictures), a small girl and an infant. Hungrily they trudge to their upland hunting grounds at the end of winter. They know that their numbers a're fewer than in past years, but they do not know why. Neither does the reader, who is left to speculate on plagues and warfare. Golding gives no more information than is available through the eyes of the Neanderthals-a difficult technique, but well suited to evoking...
...Jefftown Journal is hardly a bargain. All who read the paper live within the walls of the Missouri State Prison at Jefferson City, where the Journal is printed by its inmate staff. The Journal's policy is to look for the silver lining; it reports the bleak news of prison life in the brightest voice it can muster, and it encourages prisoners to work toward rehabilitation. But most Journal readers share a common misery that goes untouched by such institutional cheer. Lately they have found a wry spokesman in the Journal's superb cartoonist, Prisoner 69652, Sammy Reese...
...Margit Saad) in his own bed, and after that night she sticks as close to him as a birthmark. He has a bigger caper in mind, lifting ?40,000 from a race track. To the syncopated beat of the score, the job goes off with tingling finesse. In a bleak, snow-bitten field, Johnny digs a hole and buries his loot; two reels later, when the crime syndicate crushes him, it proves to be his grave. The sound track mourns and mocks him with the teasing, empty sensuality of a saxophoney prison-ballad blues...