Word: soddenly
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...hero, shiftless, sodden Painter Earl worked for the British until the patriots began to win, then deserted his wife and two children and fled to England, where he subsequently deserted another wife and more children to return to America and drink himself to death...
...after a performance, politely wondered aloud if Osborne might have a part for him in any new play. Very much in character, Osborne superciliously replied: "I don't know-possibly." Then he began remixing a batch of anger in process called The Entertainer so that its lead-a sodden, cynical, third-rate music-hall trouper-would fit Sir Laurence. Last month, having just chucked a reported $250,000 by bowing out of a Hollywood film version of Terence Rattigan's Separate Tables, Olivier startled Britain's effete theater world by accepting the Osborne role. In a small...
Having just had a fire ourselves, we looked around for our hair-shirt to throw in the sodden mess, and found that we had indeed been suffering barely discernable pricks of conscience. Having disposed of these, we find ourselves much more tolerant of the world. Indeed, we feel slightly euphoric...
...less tell the story of Rogue Yates, a relentlessly robust novel in a little-known genre-the Australian western. Author Ronan's sunburnt bloody stockman is a dwarfish near-albino of repulsive appearance and character, named Tony Yates. His father, an ex-convict, used to beat his gin-sodden mother with his wooden leg; a sister was active in a sort of open-air bordello, and Tony himself was sold to a cattle thief at twelve. At this stage the reader who suspects that the novel is a subversive Australian attempt to prove that its "West...
...have sat in the parlor reeking with its gravedamp chill, if then you go out into the steaming air into a street of villas, catch your bus and ride home through vast areas of drab brick, lightened by an occasional pub in which you see a few sodden wretches mournfully ruminant over a glass of bitter beer-if you have gone through this, then, my boy . . . your guts will ache with passion for the Happy Land, the glorious country with the bright Sunday evening wink of the Chop Suey signs, the roar of the elevated, the sounds of the radio...