Word: kinship
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...Kinship. The flash came too late for most U.S. morning papers, so afternoon dailies got the first break. Some of them, such as the New York Journal-American and Philadelphia Daily News, showed the deep kinship between the U.S. and Britain by running almost the same headlines as the British press: THE KING IS DEAD. They assumed readers would know which king was meant. The Christian Science Monitor, which seldom prints "death" in its pages, headed its story GEORGE VI PASSES; ELIZABETH TO FLY BACK TO LONDON, printed not a word about when, where or how he died...
...thin voice, King Idris I led his Senussi tribesmen in two wars against the Italians, now uses a converted Italian barracks near Benghazi as his palace. He trusts the West, and privately refers to the seven-nation Arab League as "an alliance of weaknesses." But recognizing Libya's kinship with the rest of the Moslem world, he plans to join the Arab League. "If anybody ever succeeds in cementing this country together," says an English veteran of Libya, "it will be the King. The cement is Islam-these people really believe and live Islam." (The first daub of cement...
...evening when his rumrunner is at anchor off a North Atlantic beach, he sees two seals romping in the moonlit waters. He slips over the side, soon feels more kinship with their sleek, black, shiny forms than he has ever felt with humans. Nearing shore, man and seals edge up on some rocks to rest. On shore, a bored young miss with a high-powered rifle is waiting to pot the seals and collect a new thrill. Two shots crack, but the Negro hears only the first, because "his head had caved in ... And so it was true and doubly...
...slash at American middle-class life, Mr. Smith rarely cuts more than cuticle-deep. But for Author Louis Bromfield, who has tackled only Jello-weight themes for years, it marks an abrupt change of mental pace. Dunked in soggy prose and soupy characters, Mr. Smith still claims a kissing kinship with Babbitt and Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman...
...Johnston, a woman old enough to be his mother? Working with such commonplace matters, and playing them for no more than they are worth, Warren Beck has written a minor novel with the grace and dignity appropriate to a major one. In its quiet way, it keeps claiming kinship to Willa Gather's small classic, A Lost Lady...