Word: rage
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...most soldiers who complained of "nervousness." In fact he discovered that some neuroses are perhaps desirable. "Resentment can be a militarily useful frame of mind despite its personal painfulness. Frustrate and goad a man sufficiently and he will become indifferent to his own fate and ignore his . . . abhorrence of rage and slaughter...
Abortion goes swimmingly for 20 years-until one of Mrs. Timson's own beloved daughters announces that she is illegitimately pregnant. In Mrs. Timson "rage . . . fluttered wildly, like a bluebottle fly." She reflects: "God is punishing me. But why? I've done no wrong. . . . We'd got to live." When her weeping daughter says she thinks abortion would be the best way out, Mrs. Timson will not hear of it. "Perhaps it will be a boy," she cries ecstatically...
...Explosive Teens. A certain violence in the matter of defining Uncle Alfred became usual among the young during the years just before and during World War I. Uncle Alfred's Edwardian coziness aroused derision, his comfortable income insulted equity, his genteel tradition excited rage. In June 1914 a little magazine called BLAST appeared (long ahead of ¥2) in London, saying: "BLAST years 1837 to 1900; curse abysmal inexcusable middle class . . . BLAST their weeping whiskers. . . ." This tone continued for 30-odd years to reverberate at one extreme of the little magazine gamut. But the violence was also disciplined...
...Quirinal, where Umberto had made his last farewells and was packing. The King apparently saw a chance, decided not to go-and royalist leaders whipped up riots in Rome, Naples, Palermo. Alarmed, De Gasperi hastened up the hill and told Umberto to leave at once. In a rage, the scion of Savoy scrapped a conciliatory message to the new republic, substituting a truculent protest. Then he donned a grey suit and porkpie hat, stole away to Ciampino airport and flew to join his family in Portugal. In a few days the Assembly would convene in Monte Citorio palace...
...period of his seventh to 17th years (1899-1909). Like Left Hand, Right Hand! (TIME, May 15, 1944), it is a combination of acute filial impiety, antique sentence structure and genuine literary skill. If anyone else had dared publish half its secrets, the Sitwell trio would have screamed with rage, summoned their solicitors and sued with a vengeance.* As it is, The Scarlet Tree is by no means the spectacular Sitwell history that may some day be written, but it is a family album with portraits in the best Sitwell style, and a precious, corrosive, amusing record of a swaddled...