Word: dickensians
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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Soon there will pass from Harvard in the throes of its mid-year period, going as silently as they came, those vague and shadowy Dickensian figures who receive their degrees a half a year before or a half year later than their fellows. Celebrated by no flourish of a sheriff's stick or the beating hoofs of the Governor's guard, still this bestowal of diplomas means much to the ideal who are willing to date obscurity to attain it: it is only just to grace their departure with a single token of remembrance. Akin as they...
...knowing young Manhattanites. There are so many things to do and everything is done so quickly. To cover the assignment with the thoroughness and mimetic accuracy (but not the rancor) of a Sinclair Lewis, and at the same time to create four central characters of breathless reality, and a Dickensian hurly-burly of minor characters, and to keep them moving through their swift social traffic under their own power and in their right positions, requires a highly developed social instinct and something akin to literary genius. Socially and book-technically, Little Sins is a stunning performance. And to its fundamental...
...that Dean Briggs is gone, "Copey" is the last of a vanished style in Harvard professors, in professors anywhere, for that matter. He himself is Dickensian, with his piercing glance to identify a caller or passery, his two bachelor rooms in the garret of old Hollis, his quick replies which from a less amiable nature might be crabhed but from him seem way and sprightly, and his remark in the introduction to his anthology: "As for Christmas Eve, it won't seem like itself if Mrs. Lowell stops allowing me to bring my book...." Time...
...test being read-aloud-able-ness, this last is only natural, but it is also quite necessary. Now that Dean Briggs is gone, "Copey" is the last of a vanished style in Harvard professors, in professors anywhere, for that matter. He himself is Dickensian, with his piercing glance to identify a caller or passerby, his two bachelor rooms in the garret of old Hollis, his quick replies which from a less amiable nature might be crabbed but from him seem wry and sprightly, and his remark in the introduction to his anthology: "As for Christmas...
WITH the overshoe era upon us and snow upon the overshoe era, fires crackle in grates all too cognizant of Dickensian tradition in their inconstancy of warmth and books often encumber the knees of gentle souls who prefer their own lamp light to the colder luminaries of the winter heavens. No better book for such a purpose, no more delightful, distinguished, and never dull--to be precise, let's suggest that David McCord is an excellent essayist in the Hazlitt manner with a touch of Benchley at his best...