Word: lifeness
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...Hick in Eleanor Roosevelt's scrawling hand. The letters, at Hickok's direction, ended up in the Franklin D. Roosevelt Library with the proviso that they would not be opened until ten years after her death, which occurred in 1968. Many of them are included in The Life of Lorena Hickok, a biography by Doris Faber to be published by William Morrow & Co. in February. As a whole, they suggest an intimate relationship never previously considered...
...worked for him in Budapest, in Vienna, in Berlin-each of which he was forced to leave because of either politics or economic conditions just as he was establishing his film career. It worked for him most spectacularly hi London, where, with films like The Private Life of Henry VIII and The Four Feathers, he singlehanded, and almost overnight, turned the moribund British movie industry-and his company, London Films-into an international force in the 1930s. Indeed, about the only place it did not work for him, at least initially, was Hollywood. But that really was not his fault...
...home on Hungary's central plains, his only known belief was that summed up by the aphorism ''Living well is the best revenge.'' It was something he had obviously read up on in the books he devoured as a child, feeding the fantasy life that he turned into elegant reality. He took his two talented younger brothers along with him on his journey. Zoltan, saturnine and hypochondriacal, never left home without his oxygen inhaler and his health foods ("Vair is my kelp?" he once demanded of a bewildered porter), but was a first-class action...
...still find new audiences in revival nouses and on TV. He made them tastefully, with strong narratives and characters, because he happened to be an elegant and literate entrepreneur. But their function was not to secure him immortality but to provide something entertaining and profitable to do with his life...
...witnessed so many of the century's upheavals. Maybe it was the strong under current of melancholy in his temperament that caused him to regard all permanencies as delusions. Whatever. Michael Korda 's title is apt, and he has fashioned from his uncle's life, and from his own struggle not to become a pale copy of him, a book that is rather like one of his uncle's historical films-warm, well structured, humorous, a little larger and more roman tic than life, but underneath it all, shrewdly observed...