Word: yorkers
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...After his fifth year and one Coty, John Anthony, 38, a New Yorker of Italian descent who worked his way up in the trade, will have retail sales this year of $6 million, and can say: "I don't want to go above that." He explains: "I design for a small, strong audience. I'm a drop in the ocean, but my audience is select. She's a celebrity, a movie star, she's in society, she's a President's wife. She may even be a working girl who doesn't mind...
Laws leaves few of the Law School's more tender points untouched, including the wildly approbistic response of a chorus of Supreme Court judges to a whisper of Alan Dershowitz's name. The New Yorker said of Laws namesake, don't bite. If you're unsure of the ground north of the Science Center, don't litigate...
...reason to be confident. Although he arrived in New York in 1928 without a college education (something the socially insecure O'Hara would worry about the rest of his life), he landed a job with the Herald Tribune almost immediately, and soon began contributing to the New Yorker. In 1934, after one divorce and a string of lost newspaper jobs, O'Hara's first novel, Appointment in Samarra, appeared. The story of Julian English, a well-to-do Cadillac dealer in the fictional town of Gibbsville, Pa., whose life collapses over one Christmas vacation, launched O'Hara on an extended...
...even a partisan like Bruccoli will admit that O'Hara's novels never quite measure up to his short stories. He had matured as a short story writer. By the 1960's, the early wandering sketches he had published in the New Yorker had gradually evolved into well-plotted and elegant short stories. If, as Norman Mailer (another Nobel-chaser) once wrote, the real short story writer is a jeweler, then O'Hara's best short fiction has the brilliance of carefully polished jewelry. O'Hara's later short story style depends on a clean, taut prose that unobtrusively serves...
...publisher than the author. A potpourri of reviews whose topics are unfamiliar, of speeches never heard, can become repetitive. There is no overall conception, no theme, no characterization, so that the reader is deprived of the interest which comes when a book is creatively unified. Writing in The New Yorker pampers the trite, and even a writer as versatile as Updike often caters to a readership which can interest itself in such a well-written frivolity as "Coffee-Table Books for High Coffee-Tables." Picked-Up Pieces is good bedside reading, and if it can make you laugh...