Word: maughamism
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Where the smart money flows, celebrities are sure to follow. Among well-known bibliophiles, Carter Burden Jr., New York political hopeful and socialite, is reportedly amassing what experts believe will be the definitive collection of contemporary American first editions. Author Ray Bradbury favors such English novelists as Somerset Maugham and Evelyn Waugh, and Bestseller Irving Wallace collects rarer chart toppers like a signed edition of The Thin Man, for which he paid $ 1,500 last year...
...days, then return the copies in postpaid cartons. The most requested books: Winston Chur chill's six-volume The Second World War, (148.5 hours, 99 cassettes; $116.50), Irving Stone's The Origin (30 hours, 20 tapes; $21) and the novels of Somerset Maugham, along with such current thrillers as Triple and Free Fall in Crimson...
...activity is contentious and acute. To an editor: "When I split an infinitive, God damn it, I split it so it will stay split." On James M. Cain (Double Indemnity): "Every thing he writes smells like a billy goat." On Somerset Maugham: His gift "belongs to the great judge or the great diplomat ... He would have made a great Roman." On John P. Marquand: "Beautiful detailed observation and the total effect of a steel engraving with no col or at all. I guess God made Boston on a wet Sunday." On Hemingway: "I suppose the weakness of writers like Hemingway...
...through The Maltese Falcon. The Thin Man and a hundred more short stories, he developed and became the epitome of the hard-boiled but literate writer. He started with short stories in H.L. Mencken's The Smart Set, the home of such luminaries as Fitzgerald and Lewis, Huxley and Maugham, and ended up with the federal government trying to have his body removed from Arlington National Cemetery since Communist bones there would presumably pervert the sacredness of row after row of white crosses. His long-time companion, Lillian Hellman, who now runs his estate, refuses to allow anyone access...
...Greene writes: "I had an idea before I went to Malaya, an idea picked up from an unsympathetic press, of a group of men, the harsh overseers of great capitalist enterprises, intransigent, unconstructive exploiters of native labor, drinking stengah after stengah in the local club, probably in the Somerset Maugham manner making love to each other's wives. But before I had stayed long in Malaya I learned that there was no such thing as 'the planter'-there was only X or Y." But did such false preconceptions in a fiction writer's mind come from...