Word: jacketful
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...applied to the important matter of the author's image ("image" in Madison Avenue's lexicon means what the public thinks about a person or corporation when it is not thinking very hard). Up to now, authors' images have been left, hit or miss, to book jacket eulogists and to the authors themselves...
...morning, ease up with a five-martini lunch, and frolic back to the office just in time to line up an overnight date with a girl reporter. It was the author's qualifications that did him in. Before giving up journalism for "full-time writing" (as the book-jacket blurb rather cattily puts it), Brinkley put in six years as a writer for LIFE. But to satirize any magazine, one should work for no more than ten days as a copy boy, and perhaps leaf through a couple of issues. The author's novel wears his experience like...
...course, is Topic A, and a new recording on the subject is Live with Love, starring British Psychologist Keith Cammeron, soon to be released in the U.S. On the album jacket there is a woodland scene that includes one full-breasted wench, two nuzzling birds and three enormous bees. Inside is the sort of sex-education lecture that would weight the eyelids of a twelve-year-old ("Let's begin with the egg..."), redeemed now and then by snippets of fascinating information, such as the fact that the male testicle, in Cammeron's words, is actually "a mass...
Died. Leonard ("Chico") Marx, 70, sly-smiling comedian whose fake Italian accent, trademark costume of velvet jacket and pointed hat, and pistol-finger piano playing backed his four younger brothers in their own brand of joyously irreverent comedy; of a heart attack; in Hollywood. In such Marx Brothers hits as Animal Crackers, A Night at the Opera and A Night in Casablanca, Chico convulsed fans with his deadpan translation of horn honks made by leering Brother Harpo, his wild-eyed pocket picking and shortchanging and his Chaplinesque penchant for attracting trouble...
...lexicon of the dust jacket, writers do not write novels any more; they write major novels. The phrase, once the reviewer's last cymbal crash before his closing chord of adjectives, has become a generic tag, like "short story" and "hot dog." Thus cold frankfurters are cold hot dogs, not cold dogs. Accepting the publishers' ploy, critics must now confront a new literary phenomenon: the insignificant major novel...