Word: reader
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...should have no suspicions of Haley. He was neither a black nationalist (he had written for such "white" periodicals as The Reader's Digest and Playboy) nor what Malcolm called a "house Negro" who identified entirely with his white master. The two men developed a warm personal friendship, and the book benefits from the gifts each man brought...
...burning social issues are commonplace in Commentary, one of the leading intellectual publications in the U.S. Since its founding in 1945, the monthly magazine has consistently displayed a rigorous self-analysis, a passion for ideas, a stubborn sense of responsibility. All this is amply evident in the new Commentary Reader, edited by Norman Podhoretz (Atheneum; $12.50), a selection of some of the magazine's best articles written by some of the era's shrewdest minds: Sidney Hook, Lionel Trilling, Edmund Wilson, George Lichtheim, Daniel Bell. The book also contains a sampling of Commentary short stories (Saul Bellow, Bernard...
...Jove. She had a mother, and the bitter title of her book was a nursing nun's obituary of Mme. de Beauvoir, who died of cancer, saying, "I'm too tired to pray: God is kind." It is a painful book to read, not least because the reader is unsure to the end whether natural piety toward the author's mother will prevail against her severe atheist principles. Mother was 77, "of an age to die," when she was attacked by severe abdominal pain, but nothing, it seems, had prepared Simone for the emotions that overwhelmed...
...Member of the Funeral. The reader is amazed at her amazement. The rest of the book is a merciless record of the trivia of death-old age and bed wetting, pubic baldness, enemas, Levin tubes, indignity, pain-all made tolerable because it also sets down the stages by which this renowned intellectual prig came to terms with her natural feelings and at the end allowed herself tears at a Catholic funeral, without even sneering at the priest beyond pointing out that he had trousers on under his chasuble. It acknowledges: "I did not understand that one might sincerely weep...
...three identities, he was a great kidder. At Swim, first published in London in 1939 and twelve years later in New York, has since gathered a subterranean reputation-and thus this new edition-as possibly the most maddeningly complicated book ever written. It is also funny, once the reader gets used to the suspicion that the biggest joke...