Word: passion
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...institutionalized life and the freedom of being with Rourke--choosing differently each chance she gets. Tracey's life at home and in school is represented so shallowly--her bedroom, for example, is decorated in flowers like a cheap innocence metaphor--that her indecision seems fickle rather than agonized. Her passion for Rourke takes on the same superficiality, and Hannah's performance becomes a mere foil for Quinn...
...from enemy gunfire in the town square, then fell into a pleasureless marriage with a slimy hustler named Costa (Jean-Pierre Bacri). By 1952, when most of Entre Nous takes place, each woman is eager to escape the emotional claustrophobia of cooking the meals, chaperoning the children, counterfeiting passion as Monsieur Wrong rolls toward her in bed. To the anger and chagrin of their husbands, Lena and Madeleine find that ecstatic escape in each other's souls...
...lives with his wife and two children in a spacious 1920s-vintage house overlooking San Francisco Bay. Most weekends he putters in his garage or enters one of his roadsters in a classic-car show. He may risk his capital on the newest computer technology, but he invests his passion in mechanical relics of an earlier age. "I don't turn on to the latest electronic gadget," he says. "I turn on to older, nonelectrical things...
...Gatsby, Steinbeck, 23, was still studying "creative writing" at Stanford-too late, as well as too naive, to become a chronicler of the jazz age. William Faulkner sank his roots in Oxford, Miss., and lived off the accumulated capital of the Old South. The nouveau Californian nourished a vague passion for the Pacific Ocean, which helped him more as an amateur marine biologist than as a professional storyteller...
...Steinbeck as a rambling raconteur, or as a superb short-story writer. 77?^ Red Pony and The Leader of the People live on as classics for the loving precision with which they portray a young boy's painful need to grow up and an old man's passion to recall his youth. If only Steinbeck, an innately modest man, had been more modest as a writer, he might not have been destined to whipsaw himself between the pretentious and the trivial. It was his bad luck that he happened to be one of the last writers to dream...