Word: readings
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...Harry Truman and Grace Coolidge. Of Harry: "He got up every morning at 6, and we'd stop the train so he could take his walk." Of Gourmand Warren Gamaliel Harding: "He'd eat anything." Of Calvin Coolidge: "He never used to say much, except when he read the papers he'd grunt, 'I thought...
Harvard's .benign, bemused Werner Wilhelm Jaeger, 70, world-renowned interpreter of ancient Greek humanism, one of the first scholars to bear Harvard's exalted University Professor title. At nine, German-born Classicist Jaeger fascinatedly read his first Latin grammar straight through, at 25 took over the University of Basel's Greek chair, once occupied by Nietzsche. His biography of Aristotle (1923) revolutionized classical scholarship when he was still a young professor at the University of Berlin; his monumental Paideia: The Ideals of Greek Culture is a three-volume university, a gold mine of the ideas that...
This gaudy story, filmed as J'irai cracher sur vos tombes (I'll Spit on Your Graves), played at four Parisian theaters last week to enthusiastic reviews. But those who had read the novel from which the movie was made should have realized that it was a phony from the start. The Spitter was written 13 years ago by Boris Vian (a civil engineer by day, a jazz trumpeter in a Left Bank cave by night); its publishers claimed that it was a translation from a U.S. novel by one Vernon Sullivan. The public loved its fake sociology...
...background, and Regulus, greenish in hue, was approaching the rim of its disk. The occultation was to start at 2:21. The minutes passed; the star edged closer to the invisible rim of the planet. "No change, no change," chanted Hynek into a tape recorder while an assistant read off the time. "Gosh, there-it seemed to go. It's definitely going, going. It's gone." Eleven minutes and 4.8 seconds later, Regulus reappeared from behind the bright edge of Venus. The star seemed to struggle to get away, clinging for five or six seconds before drifting clear...
Duluoz rambles the streets of Lowell, stars in a track meet, eats, sleeps, walks home three miles after holding hands with his girl Maggie (as far as sex goes, the book is innocent enough to be read by a bishop, or a postmaster general). Everything is lengthily reported, but none of it matters much. Perhaps the trouble is that young Duluoz does not matter. As a brash, noisemaking ten-year-old, he lived in a world full of wonders; as a teenager, he seems gross and unimaginative. Maggie Cassidy was taken, like most of Kerouac's recently published books...