Word: throbs
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...being contemporary. Count Jack out: he has been somebody once, and he must be somebody again. He meets his first Scotsman, "a moody sort" who wears tweed pants and smokes a pipe. The new hoot-mon studies his archetype and buries himself in Scottish history until his eyes throb. At the end of this surreal little journal of tribal transfer, not only Jack's heart but Jack's body-packing a volume of Robbie Burns-is en route to the Highlands, preparing for rebirth...
...Nureyev's personality goes, it's the same old story about how hard-working and attentive he is, how eager to innovate, how much the heart-throb of the ballet world in shots of his ogling fans, almost all of them are teeny-boppers or middle-aged women). Fonteyn begs the question of Nureyev's temper: "superficially he might seem to have some bad sides, but I don't think they're important." I can understand that the makers of the film might have been hesitant to pry uninvited into Nureyev's private affairs: if his reputation...
...believers are young and old, longtime Apocalypse buffs and recent converts. The newer ones include many members of the Jesus Movement. Bumper stickers (GUESS WHO'S COMING AGAIN!) proclaim Christ's return. Jesus rock bands throb with it. A small shelf of luridly written, fiercely dogmatic books purport to document and explain it. The Second Coming Bible, a warmed-over 1924 chestnut, has sold 50,000 copies since August; The Beginning of the End has sold 81,000 since March. Hal Lindsey's The Late Great Planet Earth, a compendium of apocalyptic prophecies, has sold more than...
...this less than gripping display of good intentions. For one thing, the story is endless, seventy pages long. Fifty longer than it need be. It is also mercilessly superficial, and badly written. Jack Orkney's socialism, like Parisian communism and New York radical chic, is actually only another throb in the bleeding heart of liberalism. The politics here described are, no less disappointingly, such now antiquated rituals (once known and loved) as the sit-in, the pray-in, the fast-in Jack Orkney's complaint, if I may improve on the title, is the standard complaint of anyone...
...hung all the inept, unfortunate race, emphatically asleep"). Occasionally, Keneally overheats his language, invoking the pull of blood and the core of blackness in a way that recalls D.H. Lawrence in a rant. But most of the time the novel's intensity arises naturally from the dualities that throb at its center -black and white, crime and punishment, civilization and savagery...