remmers
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response 50 of 53:
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Sep 2 12:22 UTC 1998 |
Well, how do you know that this guy isn't one of my pseudos?
By the way, here's the remarkable complete sentence, which I'm tempted
to describe as "epic", from _Lolita_ in which the "picnic, lightning"
phrase occurs:
My very photogenic mother died in a freak accident (picnic,
lightning) when I was three, and, save for a pocket of
warmth in the darkest past, nothing of her subsists within
the hollows and dells of memory, over which, if you can
still stand my style (I am writing under observation), the
sun of my infancy had set: surely, you all know those redolent
remnants of day suspended, with the midges, about some hedge
in bloom or suddenly traversed by the rambler, at the bottom
of a hill, in the summer dusk; a furry warmth, golden midges.
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md
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response 53 of 53:
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Sep 8 23:04 UTC 1998 |
I saw Joyce Maynard on TV this morning plugging her new
book, "At Home in the World," which just hit the bookstores.
So I went to Borders Farmington Hills and bought a copy.
I've been a fan of Maynard's ever since I read her cover
essay in the NY Times Magazine 30 years ago, and then the
book it turned into, called "Looking Back." (She was 17 at
the time.) Her most famous book is "To Die For," which was
made into a movie starring Nicole Kidman a few years ago.
"At Home in the World" is an autobiographical work which
is making news because it tells about the affair Maynard
had with J.D. Salinger that everyone was buzzing about but
no one ever was able to confirm. The early reviews are
mixed -- the good news is it isn't a tell-all sleaze bio;
the bad news is it isn't a tell-all sleaze bio. We'll see.
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