Word: caveness
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Paris gallery owners estimate that there are about 100 serious U.S. painters now working in Paris, but few of them have attracted as much attention as 35-year-old Joe Downing, who comes from Horse Cave, Ky. (pop. 1,545). With scraps of specially treated paper and a stapler to fasten them together, Downing produces "paintings" that have brought French critics under his spell...
What New York has is jazz, man. The city has taken over the franchise from New Orleans and Chicago, and is now Coolsville itself. The Jazz Gallery is a cold, concrete cave that could be an abandoned subway station; dedicated ears listen while Thelonious Monk passively stirs his piano or Dave Brubeck passionately tinkles his. From Basin Street East to the Roundtable, the Half Note Club to Birdland, the Embers to the Five Spot Café, the big cats prowl; and no jazz musician considers his career made until he has made it in Manhattan. There are also places like...
Gerald Durrell once awakened in pain to find a squirrel assiduously stuffing a peanut in his ear. He has crawled into a cave to lasso a python. At various times, chimpanzees have commandeered his bed and bath, mongooses have suckled maternally under his shirt, and baby rodents have waited impatiently for him to tuck the 3 a.m. hot-water bottle under their tiny feet. Animals come close to being Durrell's best friends, and as the zoologist brother of Novelist Lawrence (The Alexandria Quartet) Durrell, he writes about them with style, verve and humor...
...Milk Wood "Llareggub." As for the roarious Jethro, he is engaging as a boy, but loses credibility as he grows older; he is forever lapsing into derring-do, despite the derring-don'ts of his womenfolk. At the end, he escapes a platoon of dragoons and a mine cave-in, and boards ship for the U.S. Cordell can be counted on to tell more of this lad, who will arrive in the New World in good time for Harpers Ferry and Bleeding Kansas...
...When the reader meets pretty, pregnant, unmarried Eulalia trudging toward the Catalan fishing village that cast her out months before, the outcome of Author Salisachs' novel is not hard to predict. Sure enough, 300 pages later the tarnished maiden lies dead from loss of blood in a seaside cave, her squalling love child beside her. The man she adored vainly (he of high degree, she of low) has been beaten to death, and the man who loved her vainly is jailed for murder. The cruel sun beats down...