Word: greys
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...grey dawn last week, having slithered over some 200 miles of mountain roads, an odd-looking apparatus fitted with armor plate and periscope came roaring out of a Macedonian pass and, before anyone could stop it, bored through the wooden frontier barrier. "I took my chances and steered with the help of the periscope," said Ivanov later. "The road was straight and level. The old goat would not give more than 30 miles an hour, but I took all 30. And we made...
Lion's Share. Despite its good grey editorial tone, the Times is a lively and politely relentless competitor in the scramble for subscribers and ads. From 1947 through last year, the daily Times's circulation climbed from 543,583 to 638,006, the Sunday Times from 1,092,054 to 1,285,732-and the two papers increased their lion's share of the total advertising carried by all major New York papers from 23.4% to 30.6%. Pitted against the Times, the rival Herald Tribune floundered badly. Its circulation held steady at about half the Times...
...Grey Tin-Foil. Not all readers will agree that Dr. No, which Macmillan will publish in the U.S. in July, is magnificent writing, but pages of it, at least, qualify for Ezra Pound's classic comment on Tropic of Cancer: "At last, an unprintable book that is readable." Secret Agent Bond is sent to Jamaica to investigate some mysterious goings-on on a neighboring island. His unknown foes promptly plant a six-inch venomous centipede in his bed ("Bond could feel it nuzzling at his skin. It was drinking! Drinking the beads of salt sweat!"). Bond gets...
...sort of rich man's Fu Manchu, Dr. No is one of the less forgettable characters in modern fiction. He is 6 ft. 6, and looks like "a giant venomous worm wrapped in grey tin-foil." For hands he has "articulated steel pincers," which he habitually taps against his contact lenses, making a "dull ting." Dr. No's hobby is torture ("I am interested in pain"). Bond survives Dr. No's inventive obstacle course from electric shocks to octopus hugs, buries his tormentor alive under a small mountain of guano, and rescues the girl from a fate...
...gold thread in sunlight . . . the echo felt like a kind of weeping in one's chest. A weeping that could not be wept." At novel's end, with a profound sense of release shared by boy and reader alike, the boy is ready to abandon his grey world of failing sight for the luminous realm of pure sound...