Word: staling
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Beefcake Act. If readers can survive Guccione's pretensions, they will find an impressive list of authors: J.P. Donleavy, Joyce Carol Gates, Tom Wicker, plus an interview with Norman Mailer. The fiction by Donleavy and Oates, however, is thin, and the article by Wicker is merely a stale list of proposed political reforms. Mailer, certainly a timely subject for a probing interview in a women's magazine, was questioned ever so gently by an old friend and sometime associate, Buzz Farber. In fact, only eight of the 23 contributors are women. Even a solid advice article...
Dynamite? Not quite. Instead of fizzing with life, Breslin's story usually sloshes like stale stout. He seems to miss the clipped confines of a newspaper column or magazine piece. Convincing evocations of blue-collar Saturday nights in Queens or of Bogside palaver in Londonderry stretch out until insights petrify into caricature. There are, to be sure, redeeming glimpses. Among them: the fanatic neatness of an Irish Republican Army bullyboy and Davey's sudden realization that cleanliness and godliness don't always walk together. In World Without End, Amen, Breslin weighs in as a serious novelist, then...
...vituperative energy and activity which would emanate from its fourth-floor generator like a pulsing and life-giving sign. Harry, whose massive and hoopla'ed cherry bomb got somewhere defused, who never knew why the big cracker fizzled, who never could decipher whether it was wet gunpowder, or stale materials, or whether, and most painfully whether, the big firecracker just wasn't much to begin with, just wasn't the kind of night illumination that the Cambridge sky longed for, just wasn't the thing that would be accepted at Harvard and which would make him in a matter...
...latest styles. At the art and antique auctions all over Europe, as many as half of the choicest items are being bought by people who never showed their faces a few years ago. As the American tourist surge is beginning to level off, Europeans are bringing out their stale stories about rich Texans for a new breed of foreigners-the Japanese...
...embraced two of the coaches, but solemnly shook hands with a limping, crying Walker. We carried Coach McFadden off the field, but it was too far to the buses, so we put him down. By the time the buses brought us back to our school, the season was already stale to us. It seemed a little forced when we threw Coach McFadden into the showers...