Word: blends
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...stunning book with vast foldout copies of hand-decorated maps by 15th and 16th century master mapmakers. The text, a blend of history and cartographical lore, discusses the methods by which cartographers recorded the shape of the continents in the wake of discoveries by the great explorer-adventurers...
...plot is a strangely appealing blend of whimsy and nightshade. Dennis Pitt (Anthony Perkins) is a paranoid, intrigue-minded young wanderer who has convinced himself that a local factory is polluting the river and poisoning the entire population. With the help of a naive drum majorette (Tuesday Weld), he grandiosely plots to foil the sinister scheme. Their plans, of course, go haywire; so do they. The girl carelessly murders a nightwatchman at the factory, and discovers that killing is not only much less strenuous than high school band practice, it is-for her-much more fun besides. Perkins initially...
...extended short story. This is an experiment at contrapuntal fiction, for the two tales are linked in a number of ways, including the presence in both of a common character-a slightly rumpled female named Tillie Seltzer. Taken together, they are outwardly frivolous, ultimately marked by an unsettling blend of anguish and resignation...
...main choir, symbolizing in Schutz's words "the joy of the blessed souls in heaven." TheGloria, a quodlibet of Lutheran chorale melodies was precisely thought out and excellently proportioned among the voices. As for the seven soloists, the men were more distinguished than the women in regard to vocal blend if not phrasing, with Daniel Collins, the countertenor, David Evitts, the baritone, and Mark Pearson, the bass-baritone, producing the finest singing. The mezzosoprano and soprano, Jan Curtis and Susan Stevens, sounded totally alien, much as if one were simultaneously listening to a barrel-organ and a celeste. The choir...
...decide what novçelist's nightmare she has stumbled upon. Confronting a homicidal maniac, she says: "I was drifting between James M. Cain and Kathleen Norris." Unfortunately, that is also the drift of Sagan's seventh novel, which is a little more weird than her usual blend of native wit and updated Colette. The characters and setting are American, but Dorothy Seymour, Hollywood scriptwriter, may as well be one of Sagan's Parisian cocottes: she wears St. Laurent copies, vacations on the Riviera, suffers liver attacks and has a quintessentially Gallic attitude toward love. Her latest...