Word: mists
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...diesel oil, the defoliants were mistakenly applied with water, which quickly evaporates in the arid area. As a result, they were especially toxic. Worse, the helicopter strayed over the copper-mining town of Globe (pop. 6,000), the far outskirts of which were soon covered with a fine white mist...
...County Cork man himself, Trevor has spread an eery Irish mist over the shabby Dublin back street where O'Neill's Hotel stands in bewitched semi-ruin. On the top floor lives the proprietor, Mrs. Sinnott, at 91 a legendary personage. Half-Irish, half-Venetian and a deaf-mute, Mrs. Sinnott is an almost mystical presence. The members of her family and the orphans she has collected about her over the years-mostly the lost and the losers-make their pilgrimages to her room and scribble confessions into the red exercise books through which she communicates...
Fanatically grubbing indecent exposures and hard sensory facts, Mrs. Eckdorf stands no chance against Trevor's Irish mist. In the end, she too longs to make her confessions to Mrs. Sinnott. Haplessly disoriented, she goes mad and finds at last the gift of dreaming...
Here, clearly, is Trevor's sardonic back-of-the-hand to the non-Celtic Mrs. Eckdorfs of this world. But he is too Celtic himself to lift more than an edge of the mist that he has spread. What is Trevor's answer? What, for that matter, is his question? His novel remains an entrancing but disturbing sketch of human weaknesses-among them man's, willingness to live with fantasies he can explain only to an old lady at the top of the stairs, who, in turn, can neither hear nor respond. What she offers is merely...