Word: somerset
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...harpies of legend, having once gripped an artist, are slow to let go. One of their regular victims has been Paul Gauguin. The image of the painter has been yanked, tugged, tortured and distorted by a succession of novels and films starting with Somerset Maugham's The Moon and Sixpence...
...Somerset Maugham once observed that historians of the future-with whom he confidently identified-may find more to admire in contemporary mystery stories than in purely literary works. Unlike serious novelists, mystery writers must tell a good story and are judged principally on how they tell it. The suspense novel, as Maugham pointed out, should be short, inventive and cleanly written, unencumbered by purple passages or digressions. The detective should be an agreeable and intriguing character -perhaps an eccentric, but never a cartoon. Few writers would pass Maugham's test more handsomely than the late Margery Allingham, who, along...
...student from a Midwestern high school, he was hardly in their tradition. But the State Street bankers, and their St. Grottlesex classmates who dominated the Faculty, were willing to withhold judgement. For a time, things seemed to be working out, and the angry murmurs in the lounges of the Somerset and Union clubs died down somewhat. But to the traditional Brahmin, religion has always been more lip service than piety, and the idea that a Harvard President should be fanatical enough about his almost evangelical creed to stake the good name of the University on its preservation was abhorrent. When...
JACQUES BREL, in a production got together by the Charles Street Playhouse, managed to live through 12 weeks of Boston summer, admittedly no easy task. So when it came time for the Charles to open its regular season, rather than force the successful Jacques to walk the streets, the Somerset Hotel, a respected but nonetheless dying Back Bay establishment, hastily renamed one of its drafty old ballrooms "The Somerset Cabaret" and invited Jacques over to entertain for a spell. And is the dear boy still doing well, you ask. That, it seems, is debatable. The opening night audience couldn...
Problem number one, however: At the Somerset Cabaret everyone sits around tables that seat six to eight; you order drinks and chat until the performance begins. The stage, almost like an old burlesque runway, projects into the midst of the room. Consequently, separation between cast and audience is lacking-alas, the evening's theatricality demands such a distance. Up close, the players' presence is somewhat embarrassing. It's as if the guest of honor has gotten rowdily drunk at just the exact moment when everyone else in the room has suddenly sobered up. Uncomfortable. If the Somerset could offer...