Word: oneness
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...produces her lapidary long stories and an occasional dazzling short novel, usually set in Europe. Her work appears regularly in The New Yorker. Canada seems about to give her the Governor General's Literary Award. But she is not well known in the U.S., or as celebrated as one of the prose masters of the age ought...
...One reason for lack of popularity may be that Gallant rarely leaves helpful signs and messages that readers tend to expect of "literature": This way to the Meaning or This story is about the Folly of Love. She can sum up the postwar history of a social class in a paragraph. She can effortlessly keep three levels of memory working in a seamless narrative. But in the end the stories are simply there-haunting, enigmatic, printed with images as sharp and durable as the edge of a new coin, relentlessly specific. "God protect us from generalizations," said Chekhov, the writer...
Gallant's characters have been in trouble. They are exiles and émigrés, always from the provinces of the heart, often from some place in Europe tossed by convulsions of war or politics. One story follows the sad, late return (1950) to Berlin of a German prisoner of war in France. Another recounts the trials of an Italian servant girl on the Riviera, working for a neurotic English couple just before Mussolini declared war on France...
...One of the more opulent souvenirs of the Bicentennial was educational television's $6.7 million, 13-part series, The Adams Chronicles, a generational saga of early America's most distinguished family. From the patriarchal John and the vigorous John Quincy, viewers could follow the thinning of bloodlines and the refining of sensibilities. In Part 12, young Henry Adams (1838-1918) meets his future wife Clover Hooper at the Harvard Library. "Plato! In the original!" exclaims Henry as he glimpses the spine of Clover's book. "Well," she replies, "I don't like translations...
...found her lying on the rug before the fire. Clover? She must have fainted. Henry knelt down. There was a strange smell. One of the chemicals that she used for her photography. Potassium cyanide. From the bottle lying there. Henry picked up the body, still warm, soft, heavy, and dragged it over to the sofa. Clover did not open her eyes. Did not answer him. Did not explain. Did not move...