Word: townes
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...status sucker. He was eleven years old when his father, who owned movie houses in Lawrence, Mass., abruptly went broke. Kicked out of their mansion on Jackson Street, the Demaras landed in a shabby old carriage house on the wrong side of the gloomy old mill town. Fred hated poverty, with its stiff work boots and corduroy knickers, and he refused to face it. Every chance he got he sneaked back to the old house, sat in the attic and "dreamed about things I hoped would come true...
...French discovered their cache of food and boats for the return voyage, and cut off all possibility of retreat. "This unlucky circumstance," Rogers recorded laconically, "put us in some consternation." But the Rangers pushed on, slogged for nine straight days through a vast spruce bog. Sacking the Indian town was comparatively easy, but the journey back to Crown Point was harrowing. The corn supply quickly ran out, and the Rangers, split into small hunting parties, were easy prey to the aroused Indians. At one point, faint with hunger, a detachment of Rangers found the bodies of comrades butchered...
Above the rushing green waters of the Drina River, a beautiful white stone bridge with eleven vaulting arches provided a meeting place for the lackadaisical citizens of Visegrad. On summer evenings the townsfolk strolled its length, bought melons and cherries from the peasants, sipped thick Turkish coffee. The town elders sat smoking in the middle of the bridge, looked with contentment on the Bosnian mountains ringing their valley, gravely discussed public matters. The young men came to sing and joke, to flirt with passing girls or lean dreaming on the parapet. On such soft nights, a man on the bridge...
...Vadis) Sienkiewicz's Pan Michael. Later, when the Serbs revolt against the crumbling Ottoman Empire, severed heads are as common on the bridge as melons used to be, but the townsfolk-always approving of good workmanship-remark that the Turkish executioner has "a lighter hand than Mushan the town barber." When the Austrians finally march into Visegrad on the heels of the routed Turks, in 1878, they find a disputatious Moslem named Alihodja on the bridge with his ear nailed to a beam. He had made the mistake of arguing with Turkish guerrillas who were urging the reluctant townspeople...
Author Ivo Andrić, who was raised in the town of Visegrad he writes about so compassionately, is president of the Communist Federation of Writers of Yugoslavia. Before Tito, he was Yugoslavian minister in Berlin when the Nazis declared war on his homeland. This book, his acknowledged masterpiece, was written during World War II while Andrić lived in retirement in Nazi-occupied Belgrade. It is richly peopled and suffused with an ironic yet loving view of man. To Andrić there is always the hope that "if they destroy here, then somewhere is building. If God had abandoned this...