Word: highbrowed
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...Englishman who is neither joined the argument. Young Playwright John Osborne, whose Look Back in Anger was scheduled to open in Manhattan this week and whose sulky bad manners have made him the current darling of London's West End intellectuals, got off an angry outburst in the highbrow monthly Encounter. Describing the royal family as "a ridiculous anachronism" and "the gold filling in a mouthful of decay," Osborne denounced "Queen worship" as "the national swill" and no fit occupation for Socialists. "I don't believe," he wrote, "that there can be one intellectual in the Labour Party...
...years, he fled before Hitler's conquering armies to safety in the U.S., returned to East Germany after World War II. as did his Communist friends Gerhart and Hanns Eisler,* to revile the country that had granted him asylum. "Kantor," as he was called, put out a highbrow Marxist review called Ost und West, and peddled the rest of his poison in the Soviets' German-language newspaper Tägliche Rundschau. The Tägliche Rundschau saluted Kantor, the saturnine lecturer on German literature at East Berlin's Humboldt University, as "a pioneer, a pathfinder...
...delusions. He resolves to return later to the unfinished novel on which he had been working. Devoted Waugh-mongers can only hope that this is really autobiographical. It is almost 16 years now since Waugh published a portion of My Father's House in the defunct highbrow review Horizon...
Thin Shows. For a man wrapped up in TV, Scheuer holds oddly highbrow credentials. He studied political science at Yale and the London School of Economics, was Broadway co-producer of Christopher Fry's first play in the U.S., 1930's flop. A Phoenix Too Frequent. He learned about TV from the inside as an associate director at CBS. Says he: "I sincerely feel that I'm in a position to help raise television standards." Unfortunately, TV's standards tend to drag down Scheuer's own; simply finding five or six shows to recommend each...
...Ayer was no less a Victorian than Mrs. Gladstone and (like all the best Victorians) no less unorthodox, but she was more spectacular about it. She spent 150,000 of husband Bert Ayer's iron and steel dollars on her Chicago household expenses each year. She read highbrow magazines and struggled to get Bert to like her French dishes (the French novels were beyond him). Alas, he threw her magazines in the fire and, instead of eating, drank. Harriet, "bird of gorgeous plumage strayed into a hen yard," might have had a long, drawn-out struggle to civilize this...