Word: felted
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...next few minutes, the boy went into himself. He knew a little about Esalen before coming, and he knew that one of the things people at Esalen did a lot was to go into themselves, so he felt good to be in the swing of things. But the secrets worried...
...silent. "What in the name of God am I doing here?" He thought to himself. "What am I doing here in this group of withered, sterile. Christ - forsaken, half - dead Americans? Is this it? We will tell our secrets and love--love in an encounter group nutshell." He felt cynical and cool as the circle reformed, and he went back to his place by the window...
...spoke he looked slowly around the group, looking into each person's eyes, looking into the boy's eyes, then moving on. "If you can tell me what you want, I will ask you, 'What are you going to do about it?'" Again there was silence, and the boy felt the question boring into...
...feel?" Susie, the ugly one, asked. Elizabeth just smiled. The boy did not understand what had happened, but felt happy for the woman who, without saying a word, picked herself up and joyfully hugged everyone in the room...
Much arch commentary, however, edges toward Oscar Wilde: "He even felt glad that he had suffered a little. One must try everything once." Provocative (especially to an age notably short of elegant abuse), nearly always interesting as a tour de force, The Girls lacks narrative substance, a problem of form inevitable, perhaps, in books put together mainly from letters, excerpts from notebooks, oddments of thought and author's asides. The chief irony of The Girls, though, is that Costals, who keeps asserting that creative man must free himself from the constricting influence of women, ends by falling victim...