Word: pinkering
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Among Manhattan literary agents, who get authors into print for 10% of the proceeds, the choice of Mr. Oppenheim, Hugh Walpole and the estates of John Galsworthy and Joseph Conrad is a 47-year-old British Army officer named Eric Pinker. Son of London's famed James...
...Brand Pinker, who helped Conrad, Arnold Bennett and D. H. Lawrence cut their publishing teeth, Eric Pinker took over his family's lucrative U. S. business in 1930. Since then he and his partner-wife, Actress Adrienne Morrison (mother of Cinemactresses Constance and Joan Bennett), have captivated many a literary tea. Shocking it was, therefore, when angry old Author Oppenheim accused Eric Pinker of withholding $21,000 owed him for U. S. publication of his works...
With an uneven novel of the Philadelphia underworld, Steps Going Down, John Mclntyre won the $4,000 prize as the U. S. entry in a complicated international literary sweepstakes known as the All-Nations Prize Novel Competition (TIME, Sept. 7, Oct. 26). Sponsored by Farrar & Rinehart, Eric Pinker & Adrienne Morrison, the Literary Guild, Warner Brothers and by publishers in ten other countries, the All-Nation's Competition carried a first prize of $19,000. This grand prize was won by a Hungarian woman, onetime secretary in the Hungarian Embassy in Egypt, with this clever, smooth novel written from...
...Australia's climate is too salubrious, things grow too easily, mighty resources are too splendidly undeveloped, and the masses have too long enjoyed previous Government bounty for the New Deal which is old Down Under to have taken a fatal beating. From a critical Marxist viewpoint Australia is pinker than the U. S. today and Premier Lyons is but little whiter in his politics than President Roosevelt. Both leaders limp heavily, the Australian because of an automobile accident, but both mask physical heaviness with the spirit which makes Premier Lyons' favorite greeting a slap between the shoulder blades...
...above the white neckband of the operating gown, a kindly old face, a face pinker than her own wan, suffering-drawn features. She saw blue eyes clear and gentle and compassionate. About those eyes she saw tiny wrinkles and knew for certain that the doctor could laugh, would gladly romp with her when she was well; and the tight feeling of fear about her beard! How nicely it ran down longer afraid. How "she would like to run her fingers through his silky beard. Plow nicely it ran down from his white hair past his big ears and around...