Word: postes
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...conducted his prize-winning Symphony in D at a Philharmonic concert in Carnegie Hall, a piece of sound musical grammar & syntax, with considerable Sibelius influence. Incidentally, it made critics wonder again at the complete anarchy of the music market. Sample prices paid other composers : Schubert for his song Die Post: 20?; Frank Silver, for his and Irving Conn's Yes, We Have No Bananas...
...appears likely, the death of The Criterion marks the end of a post-War literary epoch, then Editor Eliot's last words to his readers may well stand as that epoch's classic obituary. At the beginning of the depression, he records, "The 'European mind,' which one had mistakenly thought might be renewed and fortified, disappeared from view: there were fewer writers in any country who seemed to have anything to say to the intellectual public of another. . . . Perhaps for a long way ahead, the continuity of culture may have to be maintained by a very...
...with his poetry, which best crystallized post-War pessimism, Eliot's post-Munich pessimism is not the paralyzing kind. "On the contrary," he says, "it is all the more essential that authors who are concerned with that small part of 'literature' which is really creative-and seldom immediately popular-should apply themselves sedulously to their work, without abatement or sacrifice of their artistic standards on any pretext whatsoever...
Author Martin, 38, edited hundreds of thousands of words before he wrote his first book. At Princeton, he was Chairman of the Daily Princetonian, became a charter member of the TIME staff before he left college. At various times he has filled nearly every editorial post on TIME, had a hand in FORTUNE, LIFE, MARCH OF TIME (radio and newsreel). A keen golfer, fish erman, huntsman, he once made a hole in one at Stoke Poges. In 1937 he broke the North American record for tuna (821 Ib.) off the Nova Scotian coast in a storm. General Manpower was written...
...pounces on an idea, gets a firm grip on it, shakes, worries, chews it to bits. Sometimes she gets her teeth into a marrowy morsel, sometimes merely chews an old hat. For several years she has been chewing a huge bone-The Mirror in Darkness, a pageant of post-War England, three volumes so far, three more to come. Every once in a while she buries the bone (but not her bitterness-the War killed her brother, most of her men friends) and writes about Yorkshire moors or shipbuilding or the avocations of a harlot...