Word: rebellion
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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Brandt's popularity remains high in West Germany, and his grip on his party's top job is unchallenged-but he is now tired and tense. If the Hannover congress should fail to support him fully in the face of the Jusos rebellion, he might tell it to look for a new leader...
...interviews are with two writers who are still almost unknown in the U.S. Octavio Paz, Mexico's most distinguished poet and essayist (TIME, Jan. 29), impresses the reader as one of the most provocative thinkers in the West. Gracefully, lucidly, he talks of topics as diverse as the rebellion of modern youth ("an explosion of despair"), the art of Marcel Duchamp, Sade's philosophy ("His model is not a volcano, although he liked volcanoes very much, but cold lava"). Paz even notes the first feminist, Penthesilea, legendary queen of the Amazons, who ruled from "a throne of vertigo...
...their roving eyes. She sees them and smiles, feeling tired. Her walk slows. There are moaning pains in her toes and ankles; her knees, too. Her determined struggle has not yet become machinelike; its life dissolved in the necessary rhythm that keeps it going. Yet it is only rebellion against that growth into automation that brings her the tired pain, the slow aching motion...and the rains begin.... The force, the might of this awful rain beating down on an oppressed earth; beating down upon her and the ooze through which she has been traveling. The rain begins the struggle...
...laugh is a rebellion of notes across the lightning. She turns and runs, her legs pumping and pumping; kneading the wet air. The obscured faces, this odd race called man, flash past her, more swiftly than the tumult of raindrops...
...upon the reader's reaction to the book because Eye in the Last Storm is so personal. How you feel about the book finally depends on how you feel about the author, who resembles a G.I. he meets on the way to cover Laos: "An odd mixture of rebellion and conventional attitudes. And he is lonely. He tells stories one after another as we walk to the river, as though no one has listened for a long time...