Word: unevennesses
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Forty Years' Record. Louise Randall Pierson's autobiography covers the years from 1902, when Father died, to the present. Roughly Speaking is as uneven as the years it spans. The 332 pages of neat, small print, marred by an affected breeziness and by curiously false conversational passages, nevertheless make up a lively, candid, sometimes exasperatingly interesting book. Its record is bitter, if the facts of the family's struggle alone are considered. But Mrs. Pierson is so persistently cheerful in keeping the record that she seems optimistic by will power alone. Sometimes, like sunlight filtering through...
...business man (pulp and paper), a newspaperman (correspondent in North Africa), an author (Time Runs Out; TIME, May 11, 1942), an individualist, the offspring of Ohio pioneers, and an ardent disliker of much in contemporary U.S. life. In his autobiographical Men in Motion these qualities are abundantly manifest. An uneven, unprofessional book, packed with good stories (though his fellow correspondents dispute their novelty) and with vehement personal opinions, it is well worth reading for its picture of the mood of the people from whom Taylor and many another American springs...
...hear sniffs of derision?" he asks. "What . . . if the sheep leave a hoof print to spoil your lie? What if the greens are too slow or uneven to make perfect putting possible? What if, in the absence of rough, the man who slices has as good a chance as you? My answer is that you, Mr. Sniffer, are probably the man who slices and in your heart you'd be extremely happy to find that you didn't have to lose three strokes three feet off the fairway...
...film makes a good technical try for pace, but never really achieves it Russell's and MacMurray's thanks-for-the-memory love junket is as bland as anything the Hays office has swallowed in recent months. But mainly the picture is as uneven as a war-torn corduroy road. Once, its taste graph dips so low as to show a group of flyers in a back room saluting Rosalind Russell with song...
Davis at Work. OWI's front man, still solid and sensible, has kept his old habit and attitudes. He had trouble getting used to a secretary, often typed out his own letters in the uneven, x'ed out style that is the mark of a working newsman. One night an OWI underling, faced with an emergency call for an advance copy of a Davis speech, wandered through the dark, empty hallways into the executive offices, found a tired man in shirt sleeves picking at a typewriter with two fingers. It was Davis at work. The underling asked...