Word: clangings
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Privacy and Meatballs. But the main virtue is simply the extreme, and now imperiled privacy. When the warehouses close at 6 p.m. and the steel doors clang, the streets go dead. There are no decent restaurants between Houston and the trattorie of Grand Street, five blocks south; the only artists' watering place is Fanelli's, reputedly the oldest continuously operating bar in New York. It has been dispensing draft beer and meatballs to the warehouse workers since the 1870s. It shuts on the stroke of 9, leaving Prince Street (on Saturday nights) to the beery wassailing...
...early love life, barely suppressed feelings of violence and real or imagined career in reinforced concrete multiply, not always fruitfully for the reader. Grass, who has long admired Herman Melville, sometimes seems bound to do lightly for dentistry what the author of Moby Dick did for whaling. Symbols clang. Tartar on the teeth, one gathers, is Evil?"calcified hate." Parallels are drawn?and stretched?between pumice (for cleansing) and pumice (for building), and between middle-aged teeth and the decayed pillboxes on the Normandy beaches...
...down. A good hundred feet beneath the window draped with diaphanous curtains from Sears and a tinkle with bells and a clang with canary cage, way down there on sand glowing with the earth's vital light, there way down there on the beach by water reflecting the sky's gray goodness, two eyebrows on the face of the world, two commas in the single great sentence which contains all of our fates, played...
...bridge where the march proper began, a bell tolled every few seconds. A couple of kids, wrapped in blankets and sleeping bags and asking everyone they saw if they had a joint, took turns ringing the bell. We helped them for a few minutes. The bell's clang seemed to affirm the primitive purity of the whole effort. For an army was encamped by the bank of the Potomac, an army silent and cold and dark, waiting for the dawn to plunge its incongruous, unarmed infantry into some kind of crazy civil war battle. I stood and watched the scene...
Across the Detroit River in a small waterfront house in Windsor's quietly affluent Riverside section, Joyce Carol Gates and her husband are sheltered from the city's clang and danger. Living in Canada, the Smiths remain almost entirely American in their concerns. Joyce Carol-though she is against the Viet Nam war -has little sympathy with the kind of radical who, she feels, confuses personal frustrations with public problems. A minor character in her latest novel defines the type perfectly. She has small patience, too, with intellectuals who find her work too full of social and economic...