Word: lordships
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...work demands a suspension of disbelief. One for His Lordship, and One for the Road! is a plausibly ribald bar story. In a little Irish village, Lord Kilgotten passes on, after demanding that the rare and valuable contents of his wine cellar be poured into his grave. The idea of such waste appalls the thirsty villagers, who ingeniously honor the letter of the will by voiding the vintage. A literary joke provides the spine of Long Division. Splitting up their family and their library, a divorcing couple vehemently argue about the allocation of each beloved novel, history and biography. Several...
...young warrior is asked his name and replies, "Lord Delamere." His parents had named him Lord Delamere. The visitor tears a page out of his notebook and walks 30 yards away and places the paper on the ground, weighed down by a stone. His lordship is asked to demonstrate his accuracy with a spear. Lord Delamere shrugs and stands and hurls his spear, impaling the blank page. The visitor asks to borrow the spear so that he might try. Alas, he does not straighten his arm, as in a javelin throw, but starts the motion somewhere behind his right...
...sings for 40 minutes. Thus numerous small discontinuities seem unimportant and even proper. The English translation by Elizabeth McNary, for example, has moments of startling insipidity ("Do it my way/ Take the sly way/ Don't sit dreaming/ Don't by scheming") and a few jarring mistakes ("My lordship"). And the occasional intervals of equally forced dialogue sit strangely among the arias. But once you adjust to the production's apparent aim--to showcase actual, civilized musical finesse in this outpost of barbarity--it's impossible not to appreciate the success of the endeavor. The grown-up world does have...
...knew them both and it became ritual to exchange pleasantries. One day the mason told the bishop his wife was dying and dearly wished to be laid to rest in the cathedral. The bishop haltingly explained such hallowed ground was not for masons' wives. Some weeks later his lordship politely inquired where the mason had buried his wife. "There," said the mason, pointing to a freshly set pier stone. He had mixed her ashes in the mortar. "You are very rare and precious to God," the bishop humbly replied. -By James Wilde