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...Fetid Mysteries. To middle-class residents of Rio and São Paulo, the fetid favelas are cities apart, mysteriously alive but best not entered. In her book, Carolina tells them what life there is like. She recalls that for her daughter Vera Eunice's birthday, she dug a pair of shoes out of the garbage. "I washed them and gave them to her." Of the death of a two month-old boy in the favela, Carolina notes: "If he had lived he would have gone hungry." She says, "How horrible it is to see your children...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: BRAZIL: Life in the Garbage Room | 9/26/1960 | See Source »

...murk and manifesto. One meets a menagerie of physical and spiritual cripples-Tarquin, a homosexual; Lobo, a whoremonger; Clare, a gigolo; Gregory, a poet whose feelings chafe against a talent one size too small. These tortured grotesques are insignificant, but they prefigure the Alexandria novels. So does the fetid brilliance of the passages in which

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Books: Hello to All That | 9/19/1960 | See Source »

...mihi dulce sub urbe est," sang the Roman epigrammatist Martial in the ist century A.D. "To me, the country on the outskirts of the city is sweet." And small wonder, for the towns and walled cities of Europe, from ancient times through the Middle Ages and beyond, were airless, fetid places choking with humanity. The big crisis of the cities came with the Industrial Revolution. In England lonely voices cried out against the grime and stench of the cities. "Hell is a city much like London," wrote Shelley, "a populous and smoky city...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: AMERICANA: The Roots of Home | 6/20/1960 | See Source »

Pedants & Peasants. The grasping Fassolas and the well-bred Partibons share an hourglass relationship. The Fassolas are on top, but empty, feeding on the fetid air of Fascist posts and poses. The Partibons are on the bottom, but filled with grit and their own brand of gallantry -the gallantry of being their rather idiosyncratic selves. Giorgio's tawny-haired sister Elena, with whom he is spiritually close to incest, drives motorboats and herself at a swamping pace. Brother Giuliano plays cards from morning to night and takes cute tricks to bed. With Chekhovian unconcern, Papa Partibon paints while...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Books: Waiting for Marco | 5/16/1960 | See Source »

...18th century's greatest physician looked and acted like some crazed quack in a horror movie. A squat, curmudgeonly eccentric, he jounced through London in a cart hauled by three Asiatic water buffaloes. A moatless drawbridge guarded his rambling home at 12 Leicester Square. In the fetid basement of his country villa, a vast copper cauldron was kept at the boil; there he melted down human and animal corpses to get fresh skeletons for his grisly pathological museum of pickled fetuses, stuffed one-eyed pigs and cock-plumed hens. There may have been, as his contemporaries thought, more madness...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Books: Pioneer Pathologist | 3/28/1960 | See Source »

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