Word: jacketted
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...first she seems to fit into a pattern as predictable as a wildlife calendar, this Annie Dillard, the sensitive young woman with folded hands on the dust jacket, who looks out of her cottage window on nature and, sure enough, starting right on schedule with January, records the seasons as they come and go at Tinker Creek in Virginia. After the obligatory prologue resolving to "cultivate a healthy poverty and simplicity," pace Thoreau, she introduces her obligatory cat and a goldfish named Ellery Channing. Then onto your feet. In "the long slant of light that means good walking," she points...
...biographical sketch on the book's jacket which said, "Mr. Horovitz studied at Harvard College..." led me to check that fact and find unexpectedly that Horovitz had never studied at the University. Inquiries at CCNY showed, nevertheless, that their records credited Horovitz with a Harvard A.B. supposedly given in 1961. Two days of inter-office telephoning at CCNY disclosed, as Horovitz himself said, "I'm not listed at Harvard because I didn't go there." And so began the final act of an "unprecedented" case of academic misrepresentation, according to Edward Quinn, chairman of the CCNY English Department...
...Come into the Garden, Maud, is a fast five-finger exercise about a middle-aged American millionaire in Europe and his vile, blue-haired wife, whose hobby is collecting titled Europeans. With a witty tenderness, Coward has the amiable golfing millionaire, clad in Hush Puppies and a loud sport jacket, fall in love with a minor Italian princess and abandon his harpy wife. The talk is frequently funny: the husband dismisses one of his wife's friends as being so buck-toothed that she can eat an apple through a tennis racket. But often Coward's celebrated champagne...
Steve Carlton is a bright and loving son to his widowed mother. He wears a Northeastern High School jacket, dribbles a basketball round the house and spoons with his sweet girl friend Mae, the cheerleader. But Steve falls in with a bad companion from next door, and before long his mother hardly knows...
...storm was churning overhead. The fog would not lift tonight. I heard a noise in the brush by the stone staircase and there was Francois. His pants were wet to the knees and there was a crusty line of sand up the front of his jacket. He looked frightened, but his eyes shone. He pulled from his pocket a handful of round, smooth stones from the beach. "Bombs!" he said. "I went to the beach and got bombs Le Bon Dieu will hurl these at them and kill them, and then put them in a volcano...