Word: oxonians
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There is half-joking talk of over-throwing the ruling class and storming High Table, but that would be so indecorous--so un-Oxonian. It is understood clearly that we should feel privileged to sit here in the resonance of so many before us. We play our part...
Yale's physical beauty is of the same stock one encounters scurrying through Oxonian pathways to ancient College courtyards. Richly detailed gargoyles and grotesques touched daily by the hands of future presidents, the blast of electric guitars shaking lead-framed windows, and colorful cloth Dramat banners flailing in the crisp New England breeze are all the stuff of Yale...
Still, Memoirs is not all misanthropy and -ogyny. Amis gives a generous portrait of his shy, witty fellow Oxonian, the poet Philip Larkin, who like the author had to endure that most mannered of academic dons, Lord David Cecil. One sprightly chapter contains a mercilessly comic imitation of a lisping Cecil pointlessly beginning a lecture. ("When we say a man looks like a poet . . . dough mean . . . looks like Chauthah?") Cecil had the ill grace to flunk Amis for his B. Litt. thesis, but the author uncharacteristically lets bygones be. Perhaps it's too hard to stay angry with someone...
...libraries of kid lit. A generation ago, Essayist E.B. White composed his classics Stuart Little and Charlotte's Web, and Humorist James Thurber wrote The Thirteen Clocks, just as, a decade before, Oxford Don J.R.R. Tolkien had written The Hobbit, and before him, another Oxonian, Lewis Carroll, had produced the Alice books. But seldom have parents and children been offered such a multitude of first-rate works (see box) along with the customary flood. Such volumes are candidates for two librarians' awards of growing importance in the industry: the Randolph J. Caldecott Medal, named for a prominent 19th...
...does an honorable Englishman comport himself? Deighton's engaging, complex hero, Detective Superintendent Douglas Archer, 30, carries on, tackling the tricky homicide cases for which he is celebrated (the Pimlico bread knife slaying, the Great Yarmouth seafood murder). Now, however, Oxonian Archer and his boozy, street-smart assistant, Detective Sergeant Harry Woods, are working directly under Gruppenführer Fritz Kellerman, senior SS officer and police chief of Great Britain. Unlike his compatriots, the Yard man is free to move around at will in a prewar Railton automobile; he gets German-issue cigarettes, frequent dollops of real Highland Scotch...