Word: maglis
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This is not smart, polished Big-City comedy, although it is tailored for the Broadway trade and consequently suffered before a Boston audience. In the same way that the provincial New Yorker (the mag where you find W. Gibbs and S. J. Perelman) appeals to, among others, a certain tweed-and-fiannel set, this story of a back writer's family which attains its dream of a colonial home in the country (social suicide if it's not in Connecticut) is obviously meant to amuse the plethora of New Yorkers whose goal is to commune with Connecticut nature...
Some people would blame the relative artistic failure of Kelly's later plays (Mag gie the Magnificent, Philip Goes Forth, Reflected Glory) on his retreating too far from life. "I go out very little," he admits. And when he is working on a play, he is too preoccupied to enjoy being with people - "It's like having a sick child at home." He has written little in recent years be cause he has not been too well himself. But besides Mrs. Sykes he has written another play: a love story called Where the Heart...
...fellow serviceman picked up my discarded copy of TIME and thumbed through the pages. Obviously disgusted, he threw it aside, remarked: "Hell, nutt'n in that mag but nooz...
...TIME Mag at Last...
...find a writer who can report as successfully as yours. Typical of that is the remark of a brother G.I. at our first mail-call on French soil. We were in a semicircle about the mail orderly when someone deep in the ranks bellowed "TIME mag at last! The first bastard who intercepts it gets a bayonet where it will hurt most, and I'm not kidding." That man expressed my sentiments exactly. If the people back home would send us TIME instead of backdated newspapers, newspaper clippings, cartoons and what have you, they would be saving our time...