Word: yorke
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...Thatcher and the Senators were looking through the bottom halves of their bifocals. The American public couldn't see much either. Buried in the penultimate paragraphs of John Burns' stories in The New York Times, every once in a while, were descriptions of white farmers (who control most of the country's arable land) assembling their black workers and local villagers together in order to lecture them on the importance of voting. The farmers and the government would then provide "armed escorts" to the polls. The purpose of the escort service, of course, was to prevent those nasty Patriotic Front...
...cataloguing begins, running from Lexington, Kentucky to the New York of Billie Holiday to Boston to postwar Amsterdam, of books read in the nights when sleep would not come. It is a brilliant record; we are fortunate...
...Elizabeth" of this book has always, she explains, "all of of my life, been looking for help from a man." And so it is a record of the men--Southern intellectuals, and Southern homosexuals transplanted to New York, upper middle-class Amsterdam doctors, Kentucky Communists sustained by faith and New York drifters sustained by disbelief. Standing in the background is the shadowy outline of Robert Lowell, to whom she was married and with whom she shared a house at No. 67 Marlborough St. in Boston...
...most resounding parts of this book are about the women who inhabit its pages, and especially the parts about the women in New York--"A woman's city, New York." A roommate in a boarding house near Columbia, Miss Lavore was a secretary, large and homely, and in her late '50s. "Nearly every night of the week she went to Arthur Murray's dancing classes. A framed, autographed portrait of Murray and his wife hung over her bed. It would be florid to say it hung there like a religious icon, but certainly the two secular persons filled Miss Lavore...
Part Three of Sleepless Nights is a dusky, beautiful, 20-page evocation of early '40s New York and Billie Holiday: "The creamy lips, the oily eyelids, the violent perfume--and in her voice the tropical l's and r's. Her presence, her singing created a large, swelling anxiety. Long red fingernails and the sound of electrified guitars. Here was a woman who had never been a Christian." So desperately important to a woman who was trying to forget that...