Word: postscripted
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...afraid that another Armageddon is forthcoming. In the printed version of Idiot's Delight,* there is evidence that he had misgivings about his work's presentation before hostilities actually began. "What will happen before this play reaches print or a New York audience," says he in a postscript, "I do not know." That the nations of Europe still remained too scared or too smart to fight when Idiot's Delight appeared on Broadway last week must have gratified Robert Sherwood, Idealist, no less than Robert Sherwood, Showman...
...Sherwood's views on world politics approximate those of a great body of contemporary writing men who habitually seek from their hearts instead of their heads the answers to pregnant questions arising outside their profession. As stated in the postscript, the lesson contained in Idiot's Delight is that ''by refusing to imitate the Fascists in their . . . hysterical self-worship and psychopathic hatred of others, we may achieve the enjoyment of peaceful life on earth rather than degraded death in the cellar." Happily, the solemn depths of this shopworn text are instinctively bridged by Mr. Sherwood...
...postscript to his novel Author Cobb announced that characters, units and places were fictitious. For proof "that such things happened" he referred readers to, among other sources, the issue of Crapouillot which Columnist Pegler discovered last week. Characteristically, the magazine names real characters, units, places...
Author d'Orliac's thesis: even passion has its postscript. Mellors and Lady Chatterley, after the birth of their child, leave England and settle in the French countryside, where they live for a time in idyllic poverty. Eventually Lady Chatterley's husband agrees to give her a divorce, but Mellors' hell-cat wife will not do likewise. In fact, she pursues him abroad, upbraids and bedevils him until he shoots her. Exit Mellors. Lady Chatterley and her child take refuge with Sylvius, a supersensible Frenchman, half philosopher, half farmer. Lady Chatterley is tired of the passionate...
...California. Boss Farley, red as a beet with embarrassment, had nothing to say publicly. His anonymous explanation: the letter was a form letter sent out from Democratic National headquarters; an underling, unauthorized, had filled in the blanks with Mr. Sinclair's name; the realistic signature and personal postscript were the work of a rubber stamp...