Word: dears
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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POOR MISS Lonelyhearts. It's not the most enchanting occupation, this playing Dear Abby to a world of grotesques, trying to find an answer for the frustrated and despairing who package their pain in ungrammatical letters whining for relief. Reporters are supposed to maintain a professional distance from their subject, but the cries of these letter-writers, loud and agonizing, force Miss Lonelyhearts to become immersed in his. Originally a means of advancing his career and increasing his paper's circulation, the column he writes serves finally as a conduit for personal tragedy; awakened to a vain search...
Miss Lonelyhearts. A partially successful production of an adaptation of Nathaniel West's novella about a sort of grotesque Dear Abby. The play itself is a watered down, '50s version of the original, but Stephen Kolzak's direction is tight and his cast--with the unfortunate exception of Robert Beusman as Miss Lonelyhearts--does an able job of conveying the negativity of West's vision. See the review on page 2 of today's Crimson. In the Quincy House Dining Room, December 4-7 and 11-13, at 8:15 p.m. Tickets...
Tentative Step. Costa Gomes, known in Lisbon as "the cork" because he always seems to bob up on top of every political crisis, waffled as usual. Addressing the crowd outside the palace as "my dear friends and comrades," he warned that if the Portuguese people did not reconcile their differences, they risked "a reaction from the right that could lead them to a regime similar to that in Chile." Nonetheless, he assured them, "while I am in this place, I will do everything possible to see that the reforms that are made in this country under any government will always...
This may seem a drastic statement--especially to my brothers, teachers, old friends, faithful dog and so on. But look at the evidence: One of my earliest memories is of asking my mother to explain the E.B. White/Carl Rose cartoon: "It's broccoli, dear." "I say it's spinach and I say the hell with it." (That caption, by the way, is now in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations.) Other memories: we are all working in the garden. Someone holds up a piece of our all-too-tenacious ivy and cries "Watch out Fred, here it comes again!" My dog announces...
...Woman's View reads like a screenplay for a mid-afternoon soap opera, or like the National Lampoon's parody of Judy Agnew's dear diary...