Word: novelized
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...blond and brazen newspaper reporter makes her mark as a merciless critic of Washington's Balzacian social scene. She marries the boss, moves into a mansion and becomes more of a star than most of the characters she used to profile. After a few years, she writes her first novel, a steamy social satire and, of course, a sure best seller. It is the kind of dizzying ascent that Sally Quinn, the Washington Post's famous acid pen of the '70s, might have chronicled with flair. But she can't: the reporter-turned- hostessturned-novelist is Sally Quinn...
Regrets Only, her first novel, highlights a growing Washington phenomenon: reporters are no longer just ink-stained hacks who cover the capital's celebrities; they have become, in fiction and fact, stars in their own right. In a town where power and glory are as ephemeral as the jobs that confer them, top reporters who stay put can become the most enduring part of the celebrity elite. It is a theme of Sally Quinn's novel--and of her life...
...settings of Regrets Only--a major Washington newsroom, high-powered dinner parties--are unmistakably Sally Quinn's turf. Hostesses are grasping, Senators calculating, and just about everybody randy. "It's a novel about Washington," Quinn explains. "There are so many living and breathing cliches walking around this town that you sort of have to put them in." An amorous Arab diplomat gives a blond reporter a Mercedes. Before the Shah fell, it was rumored that Iranian Ambassador Ardeshir Zahedi had offered Quinn one. "It never happened, but some papers reported that it did," says Quinn...
...generation raised on the novels of John le Carre, the name of Eric Ambler has assumed a legendary quality. Graham Greene generously called him "our greatest thriller writer," and in fact he and Greene invented the modern novel of intrigue, with its moral ambiguities and flawed, bone-weary protagonists. But the prolific Greene stayed in view. Ambler spent years between books and, like one of his characters, eventually slipped into...
...novel relied on Ephron's cauterizing prose to anchor the reader; the movie's commentary is the dialogue that Streep's fine, suggestive face carries on with the viewer. Stranded in rage, this Rachel has only the camera as her therapist, and Streep will turn to it as to a friend, confiding a querulous eyebrow or subtle grimace, simultaneously inhabiting and commenting on her role. Nicholson has a tougher assignment. He is, here, only half a man, all surface and no substance, and finally he distances himself from Mark, his face going slack in a kind of moral torpor...