Word: blooms
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...wellspring of Jewish mysticism, or Cabala. He will do nine more volumes, all rendered from the Zohar's original Aramaic. The work has received ecstatic advance reviews ("A superbly fashioned translation and a commentary that opens up the Zohar to the English-speaking world," blurbed lit-crit colossus Harold Bloom), and two weeks ago it won a $10,000 Koret Jewish Book Award for "monumental contribution to the history of Jewish thought." Beneath the praise runs an undercurrent of awe that someone was crazy enough to take...
...different from her 2002 disappointment The Autograph Man, which degenerated into an artificially clever, pop-saturated riff on the anxieties of being twentysomething, and cast a shadow over her early successes. She still can't resist dotting the pages with inside references to everything from Tupac Shakur to Harold Bloom. But this time she shows greater restraint - and self-awareness. In the past, Smith's chief flaw was similar to that of Zora Belsey, Howard's ambitious daughter, a sophomore at his university, who tries too hard to show off her literary cool. Through Zora, Smith now pokes...
...within view, no fences, no military bases, no sign the Jews were entering enemy territory. The 33 families who arrived in Netzer Hazani to occupy 33 small bungalows and work in 33 hothouses newly plunked down on the sand saw themselves as welcome pioneers who would make the desert bloom. They went to shop in Arab Khan Yunis, got haircuts from Palestinian barbers, drank coffee in Palestinian cafés, danced at Palestinian weddings. Although Sammy's view is harsher now, he says, "It never felt then like a hostile environment...
...their history, and tried to discourage me from going to Alamut, near Qazvin in northwestern Iran, about 80 miles northeast of Tehran. But Mehrdad and I pressed on anyway. We climb the steep rock outcrop atop which Alamut's castle glowers over a valley of cherry orchards in full bloom. Inside the castle, however, we find no trace of the legendary pleasure garden - no crumbling stones of a fountain or wild thorns descended from the garden's roses, only wind, gray rock and grasses. On the ramparts, we encounter a lone guard bearing a long staff...
...however brilliant and entertaining Eco’s theoretical texts may be, one wonders why he didn’t just take a cue from Harold Bloom and hand us an annotated summer reading list. After all, a novel that cites Melville, Proust, Kafka, Rilke, Eliot, and others in its opening pages alone can hardly help but make us think, a little wistfully, of how else we might have spent our time...