Word: slouch
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...Sherriff's Journey's End, which in 1928 sold 100,000 copies, put the fledgling firm on its financial feet. Once established, Publisher Gollancz astounded his competitors with the vigor of his advertising, revolutionized England's literary publicity with boldfaced, importunate copy. No slouch on the mechanical side of the business, Publisher Gollancz took a lesson from German Tauchnitz, standardized the binding and typography of his product. Since the world fell on troubled times, he has had the wit to add to his large general list a lively line of pink political writings which have made...
...Capitol police, drawn largely from the job-hungry following of Congressmen, bothered him not at all. Many of them attend Washington's law schools. No detectives, most of them are too immersed in thoughts of the Law to observe the faces of the hundreds of Negro employes who slouch through the Capitol corridors...
Although it has the usual corps of continental villains, replete with monocles, saber scars, and slouch hats, "I Am a Thief," the mystery melodrama at the Fenway, is fairly successful. The plot, which involves a clever jewelry theft, may be old, but it works, to the complete mystification of the audience. Mary Aster, as the heroine torn between two loyalties, manages to look dyspeptically emotional, and Ricardo Cortez, the suave and charming cad, smiles toothily but shrewdly at his rather capable supporting cast. The photography is frequently excellent, and portrays the swift passage of the Istanbul Express across Europe with...
...smokes innumerable cigarettes, without removing them from his mouth; from this is derived, no doubt, in an attempt to escape the smoke, the tilt of his head and the squint of his eyes. Nights he is to be seen returning from Hazen's beer parlor, an aged grey slouch hat perched on his head, and the eternal butt in his mouth...
...hell, to get off the lot. By the time the last few loads are mixed, even anti-Bolshevik readers will be sitting on the edge of their chairs, breathing hard through their noses. When the whistle blows, the record has been beaten, grimy men kiss each other, slouch off to their barracks. News comes that the record has been broken again, somewhere else. . . . More books like Time, Forward! would go a long way to persuade the White world that Red Russia has found in co-operative work a real moral equivalent of war. The Author began his literary career...