Word: bohemianized
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...hope, mind and spirit. Among the fatally gored spectators: an icy arch-mom, the "chaste virginal mother of three"; her husband, a man who has transferred what little emotional-venture capital he once had into 3% matrimonial bonds; their grandson, a mobile Davy Crockett brat; a one-shot bohemian playwright who carries a pants pocket he once tore from Ty Cobb's uniform as a lucky charm; a transvestite and his keeper, a German-born quack psychoanalyst who unnerves his Midwestern patients by drowning out their confessionals with his record player and hissing: "Moww-Tzzzzzzarrrrt isss spikink...
...Miller in Paris in 1936. Once he had been rich, but by then he was destitute, his only assets being the fine art of conversation and the black art of astrology. Miller gave him minute sums of money, and served him up as a dinner-table oddity among the bohemian intellectuals and expatriates. Miller also got him astrological commissions among his friends and, when friends ran short, invented imaginary characters for whom Moricand would supply horoscopes. It proved to be an expensive game...
This book will be read devoutly by the thin cult of aging Americans for whom Henry Miller was the big name in a bohemian pantheon of goofy godlets. For others it has interest as the life record of a literary anarchist of boundless charm and talent but limited good sense, the loosest member of the Lost Generation, who, now 64. has lived these twelve years past as a sage emeritus in an arty enclave at Big Sur, Calif...
With this novel, Dr. A. J. Cronin proves himself the greatest living practitioner of the Victorian novel. The hero is that Mauve Decade martyr, the unconventional artist struggling hopelessly for recognition from a conventional world. Its "bohemian" artists and its fusty gentry are furnished forth with stock-company props and costumes dragged from literature's dustiest attic, and Physician Cronin uses every cliche of this oft-told tale with the almost touching innocence of new discovery, right down to the mustiest of them all-the notion that a man cannot possibly be a genuine genius unless he starves...
...Bechtel prize and the Bohemian Club award will not be given this year, Sargent Kennedy announced for the Faculty of Arts and Sciences, which selected the prize winners...