Word: woodwarding
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...reviewing and thus great reason for the general reader to be turned off. Can Poetry Matter? reads as an expose of the literary scene. Gioia accuses poets of maintaining a virtual conspiracy of silence, of refusing to publish negative reviews. At one point, he even invokes the names of Woodward and Bernstein, the celebrated journalists that uncovered Watergate...
Lawrence Walsh probably is an angry and vindictive man, as his critics charge. But I don't blame him. The Iran-contra independent prosecutor has spent six years trying to learn the truth about a scandal that dwarfs Watergate in seriousness and international implications. Yet there has been no Woodward-and-Bernstein glory for Walsh...
Richard Darman said last October (using the Washington Post's Bob Woodward as his courier) that the "read my lips" pledge was a campaign maneuver, urged by Roger Ailes to counter the picture of Bush as a wimp. Bush resisted making a dubious pledge, but once it was made, once his manhood was vindicated by it, he could abandon the pledge only at his peril. If he did not break it, one tool was denied him in coping with mounting interest payments on the deficit (which doubled in Bush's years). If he did break it, his macho moment became...
Hemingway was wrong. The very rich are not different from you and me. They can be just as foolish and venal as the rest of us. Over the years it has been difficult to pity Ann Woodward. Certainly Truman Capote and Dominick Dunne were merciless in their barely disguised fictional portraits of social climbing metastasized into murder. But in Susan Braudy's lackluster account, readers are permitted at least an occasional twinge of compassion as they watch a gawky girl from the Kansas plains emerge from the chrysalis of gritty rural poverty into Manhattan on the eve of World...
Little Angeline Luceil Crowell reinvented herself as Ann Eden and snagged a millionaire, a good-looking twit in a naval ensign's uniform named William Woodward Jr. Ann worked hard at domestic life. She mastered French, hunted down pricey antiques at auctions and gamely entertained people with hyphenated names who clearly despised her. Above all, she yearned for Billy's virago mother Elsie to accept her. Billy, for his part, spent his time in bed with other women or at Belair, his beloved racing stable. Finally, on a chilly October night in 1955, after years of not-so-private misery...