Word: zolas
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...Labyrinth). Levin quotes St. John's "Except a grain of wheat fall into the earth and die, it abideth by itself alone, but if it die, it beareth much fruit." That, says he, is "the burden of the manifold texts of Finnegans Wake," and of Dostoevski, Tolstoy, Ibsen, Zola, Gide, Eliot, Mann...
...woman of wealth, Painter Cassatt might have let her work as an artist dawdle dilettantishly in the wake of a brilliant social career among the intelligentsia of 19th-Century Paris. Parisian bigwigs like Statesman Georges Clemenceau, Authors Emile Zola and Stephane Mallarme, as well as half the great names of French painting, frequented her Paris studio. U.S. art collectors, like the late Mrs. H. O. Havemeyer, sought the assistance of her practiced eye in picking items which later found their way into the greatest U.S. museums. Her fiery championship of her fellow Impressionist painters did much to further French Impressionism...
...Editor Gauvreau hired a vaudeville hoofer named Walter Winchell, "a prodigy who, by some form of self-hypnosis, came to feel himself the center of his time." Gauvreau hoots at Winchell's illiteracy (he called Zola a famed woman writer, described Paris as a seaport city), damns Winchell for perfecting the kind of tabloid journalism he himself did most to encourage. Editing Winchell for libel "developed in me a philosophical imperturbability which, otherwise, my nervous make-up might never have acquired." Said Arthur Brisbane of Winchell's jargon: "Shake speare described it. 'A tale told...
After the Merriwell vein petered out, Gilbert Patten wrote pulp fiction, cinema scenarios, even tried publishing magazines of his own. He now lives in California, a hale, upstanding man of 74. He smokes cigarets (something Frank never did), reads Proust and Zola (of whom Frank never heard). Recently a publisher asked Author Patten to write a novel about Frank as a man of vigorous middle age, coping with the world of 1940. Result: Mr. Frank Merriwell, out this week...
...Jews!" Jingoistic Congressmen waggled their fingers under his nose, made long speeches about national honor. Then, with deliberate gait, gumshoeing Deputy Jordan Velasco strode forward, lifted his eyes to the balconies, bellowed out: "I am proud of being an accuser. And, without wishing to compare myself with Zola, I accuse." Defendant Diez was on trial for selling out to an illegal passport ring peddling to Jewish refugees...