Word: dwights
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...Friend Corliss Lament sent round his suggestions for summer reading in Maine-the Apology, Crito, Phaedo, etc. "I haven't told you about Groton and dear Dwight," young Anne Morrow writes to her sister from Smith College. "He was so sweet and dear and such fun." With a certain pleasant gush, these fragments evoke an age-the long-gone innocence of growing up in Englewood, N.J., in an atmosphere of affluent rectitude and Jamesian family tours of the Continent...
...that hard to hold an audience when your competition is physically slighter than you, and following cuecards to boot? Patrick Magee is the second lead, the writer, and in his crucial scenes he's an embarrassment--he drums his fingers and stares wildly ceilingwards like a resurrected Dwight Frye. The officials act like they're in drag, and the thugs are morons, without the gutter wit that makes them interesting in Peckinpah...
...governmental colleagues as "Henry the K," "Henry the Kiss," "Herr Doktor" and "the Metternich from Yonkers." Kissinger, 48, dominates U.S. foreign policy far more than any White House aide in recent memory, playing a role unequaled since John Foster Dulles ran a virtually one-man State Department for Dwight Eisenhower?and Dulles was, in fact, the Secretary of State. Kissinger has seized total control of the White House-based National Security Council, ordering 146 deep studies of actual or potential policy problems, ranging from arms limitations to riot control in South Viet Nam. Then, fully insulated from the various Cabinet...
They never shaved. They were so dirty that even the paper on which they appeared seemed to take on a grubby look. Yet the faces of Bill Mauldin's Willie and Joe were as admired and familiar to Americans during World War II as Dwight David Eisenhower's. Irreverent toward rank and cynical about the war-"Just gimme th' aspirin," Willie tells a medic. "I already got a Purple Heart"-Willie and Joe were more than cartoon characters. They were the American...
...matter what he thinks of himself as a creative talent, Sheed--like Jamison--considers criticism a secondary art. This is, at first, disappointing to seekers after fire and advocacy. It certainly must have disconcerted Dwight MacDonald followers when Sheed took over the Esquire film column, which Sheed held between 1967 and 1970. Ice and detachment are apt, after generations of disinterested dons, to seem way-stations on the road to irrelevance. But in Sheed's practice, his Catholic temperament and catholicity of taste lead to a greater freedom for play with the unworthy than that of other critics. Since...