Word: halfe
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...Diana Ross, Smokey Robinson and all of the Four Tops. The Franklin house was a big tree-shaded one with a tidy lawn, even though it did have cockroaches in the kitchen and rats in the basement. Yet the gamy life of the ghetto was only half a block away. Recalls Aretha's brother Cecil, 28: "The people that you saw who had any measure of success were the pimp and the hustler, the numbers man and the dope man. Aretha knew what they were all about without having to meet them personally." Her mother deserted the family when Aretha...
...earnest racial jockeying can be suspended, the question of who has soul actually becomes intriguing, if rather fanciful fun. The very elusiveness of the soul concept invites a freewheeling, parlor-game approach. Not long ago, in an eleven-page feature on the soul mystique, Esquire half seriously argued that there are only two kinds of people in the world: the haves and the havenots?soul-wise. Others have taken up the sport, which prompts the engaging notion that important personalities of history and legend can be classed in these terms...
Trevino the man hardly needs Trevino the myth. Ebullient and extroverted, a wisecracking four-letter man who worries only about his weight ("Five foot seven-and-a-half is a little short for 180 Ibs."), Lee is one of the most colorful champions golf has produced. "The only time I stop yakking," he says, "is when Im asleep. I even had to quit smoking on the golf course because I nearly choked to death while I was talking." After he won last week's Open at Oak Hill Country Club in Rochester, N.Y., with a 275 that tied Jack...
...late 1945 and early 1946. "By God, we have a novel here!" Lowry cried on first rereading them. Editor Day more accurately describes Dark as the Grave Wherein My Friend Is Laid as "a notebook on its way to becoming a novel." Yet this fragmented, compulsively self-centered, brilliant half book does not at all misrepresent its author. For Lowry was less a novelist than, in Day's words, "a diarist, compulsive notetaker, poet manqué, alcoholic, philosophizing rambler." Writing for him was a mysterious journey that never quite reached its destination. Both as an artist...
Even Match. Beset by a whole choreography of fears ("Every man his own Laocoon"), hardly able to leave his room. Wilderness half holds himself together by one purpose. The final objective of his Mexican pilgrimage is to see an old friend named Juan Fernando Martinez, fellow drinker and philosopher, who mirrors like some doomed twin the life-death forces at war in Wilderness. The ending is both pat and heartfelt. When Wilderness discovers that Juan Fernando had died six years before, he is redeemed into a kind of rebirth, and the novel fades on wheat fields ripening...