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Small Change. Taking in this new Truffaut is like leafing through a photoalbum of adorable kid pictures. Call this movie a funny, touching toast to the gameness of gamins. Settling into the day-to-day routine of a comfortable French provincial town, Truffaut introduces us, through loosely coordinated vignettes, to all the little grade school tykes and all their mischievous goings-on. This stuff could have become soupy, but Truffaut has retained a clever rascal's nose for stage-stealing devilry. (One example: the town detective's daughter refused to accompany her parents to a restaurant without a mangy...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: FILM | 3/17/1977 | See Source »

...really" because they have been made to feel inferior and because the joys and challenges of domestic life are unorganized and unmeasured. Except for a philosopher or a poet, such inner rewards are hard to put into words, and therefore hard to preserve on a cold morning when the toast burns and the child is crying. For centuries, men have told their wives that such problems were not very important, but the novelty is to be patronized by other women for "not doing anything really." Kathy Mertz, who enjoyed serving as a Cub Scout den mother in North Barrington...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The Sexes: The New Housewife Blues | 3/14/1977 | See Source »

Henry Brock is an English bachelor and a railway man with a precise idea of heaven: "The right sort of train to London ... a morning train, with a good breakfast car, lots of coffee and toast and bacon and eggs and marmalade, the newspaper, and two or three hours of pleasantly changing views through the window." Alas, such bliss is denied him. On holiday in Italy, Brock and his girl friend are drowned when their cruise ship sinks. Because of his record of unrepented fornications, he is sentenced to the Second Circle of Hell -Dante's Circle...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Books: Some Like It Hot | 3/7/1977 | See Source »

Tuesday, January 11--The alarm rang early, but had I known that the french toast at breakfast would tear as easily as a wet kleenex, I would have stayed in the room and eaten my Scotties...

Author: By Michael K. Savit, | Title: Food For Thought, Not Consumption | 1/19/1977 | See Source »

...write it. Then, last winter, Sullivan died at the age of 83. But this week's New Yorker does not leave the "season all unbarded and countless friends un-Christmas-carded." The humorist's former editor, noted Parodist Roger Angell, 56, has raised a toast in the master's distinctive style...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The Press: Sullivan's Angel! | 1/3/1977 | See Source »

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