Word: youngs
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Frank Langella, who turned in two excellent performances in the Ionesco plays at Tufts a few weeks back, is a bit gawky and uneasy in the role of the young architect. Hopefully he will bring more poise and decisiveness to his movement as the run progresses. For he is one of the most versatile young actors seen in this community in quite a while...
...Festival dawned, the city of Puri (pop. 60,000) was packed with 150,000 pilgrims from all over India. Some had come crammed into special trains from Calcutta, 265 miles to the north; wide-eyed peasants had come on foot, herded by professional guides. There were women with babies, young students of Yoga, families of dark, half-naked tribesmen from the jungles. Medical officers manned every road, armed with hypodermic needles to head off the cholera which used to sweep through Puri after the festival. Holy men, their naked | bodies smeared with ashes, and the "walking dead" (lepers...
...goes only as far as Cincinnati, but there he is at last free to foliate as he pleases-and peeping through the foliage is a ripe young secretary. But the most surprising development of this renaissance is artistic. A lifelong doodler, the AWOL diplomat tries a little weekend sketching and (here we Gauguin!) is startled to find that he is an artist of astonishing power-a Rubens, perhaps, with a touch of Renoir. Within a year he is in Paris, painting his broad-hipped housemaid by day, panting for her by night. But the late-blooming bohemian's idyl...
...must destroy basic human liberties; yet the insight proved inevitable. It came with the New Year of 1954. Under attack from party logicians. Djilas wrote in the title essay of this volume a savage modern morality story. Based on a real incident, the stinging fable tells of a blithe young actress who marries an aging, swashbuckling wartime hero, then finds herself brutally snubbed by the petted women of Yugoslavia's bureaucratic clique. In violently purple prose, Djilas lashes at this "sham aristocracy" which, "when not loafing about in their magnificent parvenu offices, moved from place to place, lived...
...meet, eats, sleeps, walks home three miles after holding hands with his girl Maggie (as far as sex goes, the book is innocent enough to be read by a bishop, or a postmaster general). Everything is lengthily reported, but none of it matters much. Perhaps the trouble is that young Duluoz does not matter. As a brash, noisemaking ten-year-old, he lived in a world full of wonders; as a teenager, he seems gross and unimaginative. Maggie Cassidy was taken, like most of Kerouac's recently published books, from an apparently limitless attic filled before On the Road...