Word: sort
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...Bill Green knows that a man sometimes has less to fear from his enemies than from his friends. For that reason, Green filed a petition asking that the trial judge, his old friend and onetime fellow Congressman District Judge John W. Murphy, disqualify himself on the ground of a sort of reverse prejudice...
...audience "orchestrate" with him-buzz to simulate loud strings, sing "tick, tick, tick" for a woodwind sound and "takata" for the brasses. "Oo," he commented, "seemed to me sort of bluish. When we sang 'takata' it seemed like a fiery orange." With a flick of the wrist in midsentence, he would bring in the 107-man New York Philharmonic to illustrate his points, rapidly skipping from Mozart to Stravinsky to Hindemith. The finale: a rousing performance of Ravel's Bolero, part of which he compared to "very high class hootchy-kootchy music...
...Clever fellow that he is, Gable also learns that Day is a girl, and he soon persuades her he needs special instruction. "I'm afraid we'll have to work together at night," she says. He nods, appreciatively inspecting the educational facilities, as she innocently inquires: "What sort of things would you like to tackle?" Needless to say, education is wedded to experience in the end, but by that time the point is labored, and the fun is tired...
Life with Mother. Leonhard is the sort of stylist who would rewrite Alice in Wonderland as The Bourgeois Illusions and Degenerate Fantasies of a British Middle-Class Female Child. He was 13 when his mother, a German Communist and a refugee from Hitler in Sweden, took him to the Soviet Union. There were thousands like them in Moscow. It was 1935, the eve of the Great Purge. Little Wolfgang was lodged, with other foreign youngsters, in Children's Home No. 6, then briefly among Russians in a grim Dotheboys Hall called the Spartak Children's Home. At school...
...took over in East Germany. Walter Ulbricht, a grim, humorless and inhuman man. even by Communist standards, was their leader, and Leonhard became one of his lieutenants. But in 1949 he fled to Yugoslavia, sided with Tito against Moscow, but remained a Marxist. The book is fascinating as a sort of Communist Candide-but it is far less amusing. It was written, after all, not by Voltaire but by poor, simple Candide himself...