Word: puritanically
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...most heartening reaction was the appreciative, thoughtful and positive response we received from churchmen of all faiths. "A most courageous cover, I must say!" wrote a Presbyterian minister. "At last the word is out that the sovereignty of God is not bound to the chains of medieval and Puritan culture. The hope of the future lies in an enlightened, united force based on spiritual awareness and conviction." From a Jesuit: "I was delighted with your excellent article. Writer John Elson has put all of us readers in his debt for presenting such a complex subject so well." A United Church...
...Pale, pinch-faced little Jethro Furber, the nail-eyed reverend, was nothing but bones, and even those you could have wrapped in a hankie. His twisted figure was like a knotted string, and he hated his parishioners. With fierce Puritan intensity he preached burning, his whole inside crying die, shouting die. He worked in his garden obsessively, like a madman picking imaginary lint from his sleeve. He wanted women, imagined them in every posture. He wrote dirty doggerel and lied-his single skill. He lived in a thousand careening pieces, like a shattered army...
...Jethro Furber, the outrageously vivid villain of this orgiastically original first novel, William Gass presents a hilarious portrait of the Puritan as a dirty old man. In Brackett Omensetter, the "wide and happy" hero of the book, he offers an archetypal antithesis: "Like the clouds, he was natural and beautiful, like a piece of weather in the room. Life eased from him like a smooth broad crayon line. He knew the secret...
Hardison, says Neil Forsyth, a graduate student from Britain, "understands more of Aristotelian thought than anybody who taught me Aristotle at Cambridge." When one of Hardison's lectures on Milton and the Puritan period ended, Forsyth adds, "I wanted to stand up and cheer." Hardison admits to having some off days when "you wonder whether you are professing anything except ignorance. Sometimes I tell my best jokes and get nothing but lumpish faces staring back...
...book seems perversely dedicated to confusion, like Oxford's linguistic philosophy which, from a puritan devotion to clarity, actually makes it very difficult to say anything about anything. Professor Stephen Jervis (and Novelist Mosley with him) struggles against this self-denying ordinance. After all, the intellectual show must go on. This is a novel. It is, the reader is told by one character, not about characters or society, but "about knowing...