Word: bowness
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After declining to take a bow at the Thai boxing matches in Bangkok, Novelist Philip Roth could not resist a dig at a bestselling rival. "Now if I were Norman Mailer," said the author of Portnoy's Complaint, "I'd be up in the ring after the first bout, kicking away at the boxers in golf shoes." Roth, who admits that his taxes have risen meteorically as a result of Portnoy, complained: "Every month I get a letter from the Government saying 'Congratulations! You have just sponsored another B-52 raid on Viet...
That pragmatic philosophy would sound right issuing from the clenched lips of Nominee Dustin Hoffman, who declines to attend the spectacle. But from the bow lips of the narrow-shouldered lass with the French intonations? Tiens, it is like a kitten purring Beethoven. And Geneviève insists that there are more at home like her. "European women-they're so exaggerated," she declares. "Like Frenchwomen, they're such bitches. They look at each other, not men. And American women-they have no secrets. The best women-I have to say it-are Canadians. No one has noticed...
...founded the Court of Last Resort, a private organization to aid prisoners whom he believed had been unjustly confined. He gave frequent testimony against capital punishment and often championed conservation projects against powerful interests. He was an enthusiastic sportsman who stopped hunting with a gun in favor of bow and arrow because he felt that no animal stands a chance against telescopic sights and high-powered bullets. In addition, he was a highly competent photographer, explorer and amateur archaeologist...
...toward a soaring, languorous tenderness. Horne, making one of the greatest Met debuts, showed a vocal reach and richness that exceeded nearly anybody's gasp. In Mira, O Norma, closing Act III, the two together floated along like two strings of a violin being stroked by the same bow. The way their voices blended and interwove produced moments of sheer delight-moments to justify opera and fleetingly suggest that the shaky conspiracy called civilization may actually be worth all the trouble...
...style is less theatrical than amphitheatrical. Colossal grotesques leap from private fantasy to public mind. In a set daubed with indelible cerulean and blood red, an albino hermaphrodite possessed of occult powers is abducted-only to wither pitifully in the desert. A quadruple amputee somehow manages a deep bow...