Word: fogs
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...after being expelled from the law school in 1893.It’s easy, though, to wonder: so what? Does this information have any value to anyone apart from for voyeurs and curious genealogists? Well, maybe. Mr. Cromwell’s reasons for the theft are buried in the fog of history, but it seems possible that had someone told him right before he committed the misdemeanor that it would be the subject of newspaper articles over a century later, he’d have thought twice. The ever-longer memory bestowed upon us by the Internet certainly adds...
...protagonist, Marian Gilbert, is thirteen at the outset of the book. She is lonely, but only half-aware of that fact. She attends a small girls’ prep school on the Upper East Side, and feels lost in a “fog,” since she doesn’t fit in there. The other eighth graders are wealthier, with society parents and homes on Park Avenue, and they know how to play “prison ball” in gym class...
Right there, Michael Pollan tells us, is the problem with the way we eat now. We're clueless. In The Omnivore's Dilemma (Penguin Press; 450 pages), he tries to cut through this fog of unknowing. The title refers to the predicament of animals, including rats and humans, that can eat just about anything, whether it's bad for them or not. He has no doubt that much of what we eat is bad for us, for the animals we feed on and for the environment. The author of Second Nature and The Botany of Desire, Pollan is willing...
...that fog stepped Nobuo Kojima, already one of Japan's leading writers, with a novel that caught the mood of the nation. Hoyo Kazoku, or Embracing Family, sold briskly, won the prestigious Tanizaki Junichiro Literary Prize?and then, much like Kojima, sank into obscurity. Now, 41 years later, the book is being published in English. It offers a frank look back at a pivotal moment in modern Japanese history and at the author who helped define...
...existing members. Given the relatively exclusive atmosphere, our expectations were high. As we ascended to the club’s first level, we were met with pounding trance music. Then, a practically movie-perfect nightclub scene: circular projection screens lit up with green and blue as fog and pulsing lights played through the room. And yet, the gender ratio leaned hard towards sausage. See that girl over there—the one hypnotically twirling glowsticks as tassels stream from the pockets on her cargo pants? She doesn’t want to dance with you. Neither does the one writhing...