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Where To Buy The Amazing Dr Clitterhouse VHS starring Edward G Robinson Humphrey Bogart Claire Trevor Allen Jenkins Donald Crisp At The Lowest Price?

The Amazing Dr Clitterhouse VHS starring Edward G Robinson Humphrey Bogart Claire Trevor Allen Jenkins Donald Crisp

Why Buy A The Amazing Dr Clitterhouse VHS starring Edward G Robinson Humphrey Bogart Claire Trevor Allen Jenkins Donald Crisp?
A stylish, often amusing crime drama, this 1938 feature revolves around a central, improbable plot twist that consciously serves its casting against type: as the eponymous doctor, Edward G. Robinson, who had helped define the Warner Bros. style for gritty gangster sagas, jettisons his signature snarl in favor of a plummy, vaguely English accent that underlines his urbane sophistication. Dr. Clitterhouse is a creature of privilege who embarks on a criminal life not out of desperation, but rather through intellectual curiosity; instead of slouch hats and suits, he has marcelled hair and first appears in white tie and tails. He begins pulling off perfect jewel thefts as research into the criminal mind, but his gradual immersion in New Yorks shadowy demimonde of thieves and fences eventually finds the good doctor between those two worlds.

Robinsons principal foils stick closer to their studio strong suits. Humphrey Bogart is Rocks Valentine, a sturdy if familiar variation on the hoods and have-nots that were his early stock in trade at the studio. Bogarts fence and former paramour is Jo Keller, played by Claire Trevor as glamorous, streetwise, and otherwise decent, apart from her knack for larceny. When the doctor asks her to fence his glittering contraband, shes intrigued, and Clitterhouse, known to the hoods only as the Professor, becomes their strategist. Jo is clearly falling for him, while Rocks is visibly jealous of the fastidious strangers rising influence and romantic rivalry.

In keeping with its ultimately goofy premise, the story navigates some eccentric plot turns with an aplomb that can be credited to the solid cast (including other studio stalwarts such as Allen Jenkins, Ward Bond, and Donald Crisp) and the three principals, who would work off each other to much more riveting effect a decade later in Key Largo. –Sam Sutherland

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The Gift by Vladimir Nabokov – Save 25% Today!

The Gift by Vladimir Nabokov

Why Buy A The Gift by Vladimir Nabokov?
For most of his life, Vladimir Nabokov was quite literally a man without a country. Its a small irony, then, that his career falls so neatly into national phases: Russian, German, French, and American, plus the protracted coda he spend in a Swiss luxury hotel during his final decade. The Gift, which he wrote between 1935 and 1937 in Berlin, is the grand summation of his second phase. It describes, for starters, the sentimental education of a young Russian writer, Fyodor Godunov-Cherdyntsev. This hyphenated creation has more than a few things in common with the author, despite Nabokovs vehement denial in the novels foreword. Still, only a nitwit would read The Gift for its autobiographical revelations. What this early masterpiece does offer is a wealth of lyrical, witty, heartbreaking prose, beautifully translated from the Russian by Michael Scammell (with an assist from Nabokov himself). Who else would note the way a street rises at a barely perceptible angle, beginning with a post office and ending with a church, like an epistolary novel? Who else has ever administered the satirical shiv to his characters with such deadly, almost affectionate aplomb? Shirin himself was a thickset man with a reddish crew cut, always badly shaved and wearing large spectacles behind which, as in two aquariums, swam two tiny, transparent eyes–which were completely impervious to visual impressions. He was blind like Milton, deaf like Beethoven, and a blockhead to boot. Of course, only a fraction of The Gift is taken up with this sort of demolition derby. Fyodors romance with Zina, for example, occasions the most ardent prose of Nabokovs career: And not only was Zina cleverly and elegantly made to measure for him by a very painstaking fate, but both of them, forming a single shadow, were made to the measure of something not quite comprehensible, but wonderful and benevolent and continuously surrounding them. (Shades of Volodya and Véra? Only the deceased husband and wife, and perhaps Stacy Schiff, know for sure.)

At the same time, The Gift is a brilliant, mesmerizing riff on the history of Russian literature, with elaborate bouquets tossed to Pushkin and Gogol. Theres also a hilarious yet somehow tender evisceration of the do-gooding polemicist Nikolai Chernyshevski–which was suppressed, in fact, when the novel was originally serialized by a Russian émigré magazine. As should be clear by now, The Gift defies any attempt at quick-and-dirty summary. But the book plays the most pleasurable kind of havoc with our stuffy notions of narrative structure and linguistic protocol. And as Nabokov repeatedly wraps the readers consciousness around his little finger, he never holds back on that ultimate literary gift: pleasure. –James Marcus

Over 20 Five Star Customer Reviews On Amazon!

A beautiful gift.
Nabokov, in his foreword, states that The Gift “is the last novel I wrote, or ever shall write, in Russian. Whether the author knew this as a certainty when he was writing this novel or if the conscious decision to eschew his native language for future literary endeavors came later, he, nevertheless, produced what would be his most “Russian” work. The beginning of the novel is a tip of the hat to Gogol’s Dead Souls while the last paragraph is his homage to Pushkin’s Eugene Onegin; and throughout the book there are references to Tolstoy, Turgenev, Dostoevsky (deridingly) and the literary favorite of Lenin, Nikolay Chernyshevski. Now, before the prospective reader throws up their hands and bemoans a lack of background in Russian literature for an excuse not to read this book, be assured. This is one of Nabokov’s most uplifting novels and is essentially a love story; that it contains some of the author’s best prose (in either Russian or English) only adds to the reading pleasure. And although there are obvious influences from Proust and Joyce (the circular format of the Chernyshevski chapter, for example), this is not, as Amazon reviewer David K. O’Hara remarked, “bloody Finnegan’s Wake.”

The Gift is the story of Fyodor Gudunov-Cherdyntsev, an emigre writer living in Berlin, and represents Nabokov’s contribution to the “portrait of the artist” literary genre. In most of the works in this category much is said regarding the artist’s angst, inspiration and triumphs but very little of the artist’s actual writings are given for the reader’s consideration. Not so with this book – the reader has the actual texts of the works at hand. Thus, we are able to read Fyodor’s first published book of poetry (as well as the imagined critical responses) concerning his memories of life in Russia before the Revolution; an unpublished biography of his father, a famous naturalist, and his adventures in Asia as he undertakes expeditions to describe the fauna and flora of exotic lands, seemingly oblivious of the political upheaval taking place back home in Russia — this section of the novel contains some of Nabokov’s most beautiful writing. Finally, in an attempt to deal with what he sees as the mediocrity of Soviet letters and the stagnation of the emigre literary scene, Fyodor sets out to write a biography of the great pragmatist, confused socialist, and almost unreadable author, Nikolay Chernyshevski. That Chernyshevski was a particular favorite of Lenin and exerted enough influence that he was regarded as one of the “intellectual” catalysts for Lenin’s activism and the subsequent Bolshevik revolution (and the reason, in the end, for Fyodor’s emigre status) only made him grist for Fyodor’s sardonic talents.

Although Nabokov enjoys getting into the head of his emigre protagonist, he is too shrewd a writer to simply give his readers a word by word transcription of Fyodor’s literary efforts. Woven through the novel and connecting the literary efforts of Fyodor is the story of his love affair with Zina Mertz, a fellow emigre with whom he strikes up a clandestine relationship. She makes her appearance halfway through the novel (Fyodor hears her flush the toilet in the rooming house they share), but the careful reader will discover that she has been on the periphery of Fyodor’s world from the first chapter. Several times they are almost brought together but some twist of fate keeps them in their separate orbits. It is only as Fyodor grows as an artist that he is ready for a relationship with Zina and the sharing of his emotions and intellect with her. It is through his love for Zina that Fyodor has the determination to re-examine his previous attempt at his biography of his father and, in so doing, sees the great book that was waiting for him to write: a book documenting his literary achievements and his love for Zina, a book which would be a gift in appreciation of all that life had granted him — this very book that the reader holds in his hands.

Nabokov almost always discourages any attempts to see himself in the roles of the characters he invents, to “identify the designer with the design.” But while Fyodor Godunov-Cherdyntsev might not be a manifestation of Nabokov, there is a similarity in the idea of this novel as a gift. Just a Fyodor offered his gift to Zina for the happiness she brought into his life, so did Nabokov dedicate The Gift to his wife, Vera, as a means of thankfulness that their marriage had survived a rocky period.

Prose, Fiction At Its Best
“Among the best prose stylists of our century…” goes the complement to Nabokov’s fiction. You know what, he is still among the best prose stylists in this century, the 21st. A must read. Yea that sounds hackyneed by now. Too bad it has been wasted on less writers. Read this book. Don’t buy into snobby readers advice, even Nabokov’s own advice, so when you find yourself wanting to skip a few parts in the beginning do it… You’ll come back to the very first sentence and reread (“all readers should be re-readers…” up until the point that made you say wow.

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Where To Buy WholeLeaf Whole Leaf Brew-in-mug Wsls Lid Inf 12 Oz RED At The Lowest Price?

Whole Leaf Brew-in-mug Wsls Lid  Inf 12 Oz RED

Why Buy A Whole Leaf Brew-in-mug Wsls Lid Inf 12 Oz RED?
This Brew In Mug, complete with a large infuser, is designed for brewing whole-leaf loose teas including black tea, green tea, herb tea, oolong tea and more. The mesh bottom infuser gives you a perfect even brew every time, and it comes with an easy- to- grasp-silicon-covered handle and lid. The Brew- In-Mug is also idea; for use with teabags. The Brew-In- Mug is dishwasher – safe and microwave-safe, and the infuser is dishwasher safe.

Features

  • Dish washer safe
  • LEAD FREE.
  • Let boiling water to settle about 15 to 20 seconds before pouring.
  • Microwave safe, except the infuser.
  • Use caution when handing hot water.

Over 2 Five Star Customer Reviews On Amazon!

high quality
Absolutely the best single cup infuser that I’ve used. The ceramic mug is heavy and durable, the metal lid and basket are extremely well machined, there is nothing to break here. The sieve holes are a little to large for fine chopped loose-leaf teas, like my favorite grocery store brand, “Taylors of Harrogate Yorkshire Gold loose leaf tea”, but handles all regular loose-leaf with aplomb.

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Where To Buy No More Shall We Part by Nick Cave the Bad Seeds At The Lowest Price?

No More Shall We Part by Nick Cave  the Bad Seeds

Why Buy A No More Shall We Part by Nick Cave the Bad Seeds?
No More Shall We Part contains a greater wealth of musical invention and lyrical intelligence in its 68 minutes than most acts manage in an entire career. Cave is not merely in a different league from most of his peers; hes scarcely even playing the same game. No More sees a renewed emphasis on the virtuosity of Caves longtime backing band, the Bad Seeds (Caves last album, 1997s superb The Boatmans Call was a relatively sparse affair). The Seeds decorate the sprawling ballads on No More Shall We Part with aplomb, helped on several tracks by the crystalline harmonies of folk singers Kate and Anna McGarrigle. Caves lyrical preoccupations remain constant–God, love (and the loss thereof), and death. As ever, Cave deals with these themes with great agility and imagination, and, as ever, he is funnier than he is generally given credit for. –Andrew Mueller

Over 113 Five Star Customer Reviews On Amazon!

No More Shall I Deny You
I suppose my first exposure to Nick Cave was the inclusion of “Red Right Hand” off of the sountrack to “Dumb And Dumber”,only I never realized it.Sadly,the song never intrigued me enough to seek the artist out,nor did “The Curse Of Millhaven”,(much more recently) having heard it played numerous times from a friend.It just didn’t sound like “my” kind of music.Yeah,stupid me.

Another Nick Cave incident came about when my girlfriend and I saw Guns N Roses back in 2006;Myself,being one of Axl’s greatest admirers,I obviously was going to enjoy it,but for her,my obsession was just something she tolerated.So her reaction to it was a surprising one:Seeing GNR is like hearing Nick Cave for the first time,as if your being let in on some great secret.

Again,my inability to let Nick Cave into my life would prevail.

It wasn’t until a few weeks ago I gave Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds a proper listen.Shortly after the release of his new (and quite good)”Dig,Lazarus,Dig”,my quest for Nick Cave began.Thanks to a 4-star review (courtesy of Rolling Stone),I figured .. Why not?

It is difficult to say where I started,exactly.I headed to Youtube,and immediately,songs like “Into My Arms”,and “(Are You) The One I’ve Been Waiting For” just spoke to me.Whether I liked it or not,Nick Cave was about to shoot straight into my top 5 of all time greats.

As for this wonderful gem of an album here,”No More Shall We Part”,all I can say is … Nick,I love you.

The album starts off with “As I Sat Sadly By Her Side”,a definite classic,and it just soars from there.I admit to being partial to Nicks piano work,in all of his demented,crooning glory,and this record is a perfect example of just that.

“God Is In The House”,is possibly the the funniest,and yet most heartfelt song containing the word “God” I have ever heard,with the exception of maybe The Beach Boys “God Only Knows”.

“Fifteen Feet Of Pure White Snow”,”Oh My Lord”,and “Love Letter” are another few that grabbed me instantly.Musically,these songs are something to be heard,with simplistic,yet touching piano work,beautifully accompanied by Warren Ellis violin playing.Throw Nick Caves lyrics into the mix .. Sometimes humerous,sometimes haunting,usually always beautiful .. And you’ve got something unique here.

I would reccomend this album (or Nick Cave in general) to anyone and everyone with a pulse.Anyone with a desire to hear something new.Anyone.

The secret is out.Nick Cave is a genius.

best ballads ever
I’VE BEEN A DIE HARD FAN SINCE “THE BIRTHDAY PARTY” AND IT AMAZES ME THAT HE CONTINUES TO PUT OUT BRILLIANT WORK. I HIGHLY RECOMEND THIS FOR OLD AN NEWCOMING FANS!!!!!!!!!

No More Shall We Part
No More Shall We Part is as strong of a release as Let Love In. Nick Cave once again writes lyrics that sound like poetry at its finest. And no more shall we part is a beautifull and intensly personal track that tugs at the heart strings. He sings on this album with a frank and personal touch. The cover painting was done by Tony Clark. To me it looks like a childs drawing so I do not understand the point in not just asking a child to paint something instead of paying this hack of an artist. The font is very nice on the inside. The photograph looks bad but I guess it was something like art for arts sake.

What A Friend I’ve Found
If you’ve read any of my comments it’s evident that I have the bad habit of tossing exclamation-marked praise rather directly. The problem that arises is of course a psychological and a linguistical one. For one, when we use a word like ‘beautiful’ many a times we drain it from its proper meaning and all the rich associations we connect to the word ‘beautiful’. These are important words, and the most important we bring so close to our heart they integrate to our being; so when we drain a life out of a word and becomes a graveyard we put in motion a change in our aesthetic self, and ultimately we bury ourselves to that very same graveyard of words.

I had to arrive and get through such contemplation in light of this album; if anything, this particular record – and much of Cave’s work in general – evokes feelings in me as a listener that need those words that very often become shades of a cliché. Beautiful, bittersweet, heartfelt. This only to give the right impressions to the reader. I presume this might be evidence of a limited vocabulary of a foreigner but also of the great power of art; that is, I do believe that when we become conscious of being in the presence of great art, we do lose ourselves, and our words.

Every single song on this album cries perfection, and – I don’t wish to sound bohemically and self-consciously (too late?) sentimental that turns into ridicule and the grotesque – I can’t get past the title track without playing it a ten-fold times, repeatedly; and I can’t help myself, when getting to the point where he sings “Lord, stay by me, don’t go down/I’ll never be free, if I’m not free now/Lord, stay by me, and don’t go down/I never was free”, without breaking in tears.

Gosh.

I stress that great art shapes our personality by becoming infinitely close to us; this album brings this notion from an abstract realm to a deeply personal level. Tarkovsky is to me like a friend, a confidant, a brother. Especially this from all of Cave’s wonderful body of work feels the same: this is a place where to escape from the world, to be immersed within, to seek when in need of a place to stay by yourself for a while. This is intimacy at its most intimate, fidelity at its strongest, a blanket you can wrap around yourself and be immersed in the warmth.

My personal definition of a romantic is a collector of moods and of memories, living lucidly by letting art enchance life. A lucid music life builds around albums and songs, melodies and silence you accept in your life. “No More Shall We Part” sits by mine own heart; if you wish by all means give it a listen if it enchants you too.

With best regards,
AK

Amazing
This will be short. It is one of the most beautiful albums I have ever heard. I cannot believe I used to hate this guy.

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A Far Cry from Kensington by Muriel Spark – Save 28% Today!

A Far Cry from Kensington by Muriel Spark

Why Buy A A Far Cry from Kensington by Muriel Spark?
Set on the crazier fringes of 1950s literary London, A Far Cry from Kensington is a delight, hilariously portraying love, fraud, death, evil, and transformation. Mrs. Hawkins, the majestic narrator of A Far Cry from Kensington, takes us well in hand, and leads us back to her threadbare years in postwar London. There, as a fat and much admired young war widow, she spent her days working for a mad, near-bankrupt publisher (of very good books) and her nights dispensing advice at her small South Kensington rooming-house. At work and at home Mrs. Hawkins soon uncovered evil: shady literary doings and a deadly enemy; anonymous letters, blackmail, and suicide. With aplomb, however, Mrs. Hawkins confidently set about putting things to order, little imagining the mayhem which would ensue. Now decades older, thin, successful, and delighted with life in Italy — quite a far cry from Kensington — Mrs. Hawkins looks back to all those dark doings, and recounts how her own life changed forever. She still, however, loves to give advice: Its easy to get thin. You eat and drink the same as always, only half….I offer this advice without fee; it is included in the price of this book. A masterwork by Britains greatest living novelist (Sunday Telegraph, 1999), A Far Cry from Kensington has been hailed as outstanding (The Observer) and wickedly and adroitly executed(The New York Times). Far Cry is, among other things, a comedy that holds a tragedy as an egg-cup holds an egg (Philadelphia Inquirer).

Features

  • Click here to view our Condition Guide and Shipping Prices
  • Condition: NEW
  • ISBN13: 9780811214575
  • Notes: Brand New from Publisher. No Remainder Mark.

Over 13 Five Star Customer Reviews On Amazon!

No half portions here – read in full
This is one of those books that cannot described in a nutshell. If you had to hazard a guess at a description, you’d have to place it firmly in the comedy/ tragedy/ drama/ mystery/ romance section, or simply file it under Spark: Muriel in the Classics section.

Narrated by the once round and central character, Agnes Hawkins (a.k.a. Mrs. Hawkins or Nancy), the story revolves around her experiences as a young widow living in furnished rooms in a semi-detached building in South Kensington. She colorfully describes her neighbors and acquaintances, and gives us tantalizing glimpses into their little secret worlds, in which she is a trustee and confidante.

Despite the mysterious black boxes and the lurking threat of enemies, known and unknown, our heroine manages to keep her head above water, remains a pillar of strength and finds true love among the rubble. Thanks to her diet plan (freely given to the reader as a bonus for purchasing the book), she gains new self-respect, and reinvents herself in a new country, a far cry from her humble beginnings.

A simple classic by an inspired writer.

Amanda Richards

‘Pisseur de Copie’
This book is utterly delightful. It is a very crisp portrayal of a witty, willful woman and a convoluted personal situation that befalls her. Her is someone who not only takes control of her life, but understands and accepts all of her decisions with equanimity.

Mrs. Hawkins is a war widow and a person of huge bulk. She works as a literary agent and editor. One day while in the park, she calls one Hector Bartlett a ‘pisseur de copie’. She will not retract that statement. Instead, she proclaims it with relish. What transpires because of this is the heart of the story. It is witty, acerbic and wonderfully well-crafted. It has plots within plots within plots, all skillfully rendered and multi-layered.

Hector is insipid and cruel and, indeed, a ‘pisseur doe copie’. His lover, a famous writer, costs Mrs. Hawkins several jobs. He has a personal vendetta against her. She is more than his match – - in fact, he’s just a small toadlike annoyance to her. However, he wreaks disaster on others in his attempt to enact his vendetta.

Speaking Truth To Power — And Parasites
Muriel Spark’s A Far Cry From Kensington (1988) is the bookend companion to her 1981 classic, Loitering With Intent. Both novels share a common theme, and like the earlier novel, A Far Cry From Kensington is largely autobiographical and takes place in virtually the same setting and time period: the literary world of early Fifties London. Both are explorations, via reminiscence, of the banality of everyday evil, taking place among the workaday, routine lives of the lower middle class. Less scathing if no less hilarious than many of its predecessors, the relatively unsung A Far Cry From Kensington is the most realistic and humane novel among the twenty-odd Spark has written. It is also exceptional in that it is the single Spark fiction in which a love affair blossoms into a successful relationship of duration.

The story of the universally respected though immensely overweight Mrs. Hawkins, A Far Cry From Kensington follows two divergent threads in her daily life: the mounting sufferings of a rooming house neighbor who is being anonymously threatened, and the problems that stem from her own continuous encounters with Hector Bartlett, a manipulative sycophant who hopes to use her footholds in the publishing world to advance his nonexistent literary career.

While Loitering With Intent can be read as something of a tactical combat manual, A Far Cry From Kensington is instructive in the art of deduction: caught up in a spiraling series of mysterious and increasingly serious coincidences, Mrs. Hawkins, short of both hard facts and physical evidence, actively unravels the odd events that are taking a toll on both the lives of her friends and her editorial career. Fully realizing she is as prone to misjudgment as anyone, Mrs. Hawkins, utilizing her intelligence, intuition, and instinct, nonetheless proceeds confidently and assertively to pierce the veil of secrecy and quiet conspiracy engulfing her. Spark is at a creative peak as she reveals the subtle turns, nuances, and moment to moment impressions in Mrs. Hawkins’ mind as she forms her cautious conclusions.

Unlike Spark’s finest novel, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie (1961), in which a significant portion of the mystery of human existence is shown to exist on a partially transcendent level, A Far Cry From Kensington eventually grounds that mystery in the knowable everyday. Though the author was to return to something of The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie’s vision in Symposium (1990), here she seems to be expressing that at least the mundane truths of human life can be ascertained by diligence of method, applied intelligence, and a fundamental willingness to be believe that some people are unabashedly predatory, unscrupulous, and ethically coarse at best. Another message of the novel is that the weak, the foolish, and the vacuous are among the most potentially dangerous individuals one can become involved with.

Upon its release, a number of critics publicly objected with pointed distaste to some of Mrs. Hawkin’s behavior, she who enjoys “a puritanical and moralistic nature; it is my happy element to judge between right and wrong, regardless of what I might actually do.” For exhausted with Hector Bartlett’s elaborate attempts at manipulation, unhypocritical Mrs. Hawkins calls him a “Pissseur de copie” to his face when she encounters him in a public park, and continues to do so, to the detriment of her publishing career, throughout the novel. “It seemed to me,” she says, that he “vomited literary matter, he urinated and sweated, he excreted it.” Far from keeping this observation to herself, Mrs. Hawkins loudly shares it with authors, editors, and publishers, and since Hector is protected by best-selling author Emma Loy, finds herself fired from one job after another. But Mrs. Hawkins is without regret: “I can’t help it. Sometimes the words just come out and I can’t stop it. It feels like preaching the gospel.” Thus in this and other passages, A Far Cry From Kensington supports speaking one’s perception of truth under certain circumstances, regardless of consequence, even if that truth represents an enormous breach of upper class WASP manners and social decorum.

In Spark’s vision as expressed here, building relationships of any kind solely for personal gain, manipulating others through callous, self-interested `networking,’ and general toadyism are high crimes, all of which Hector Bartlett is guilty of in the extreme. In fact, Hector is one of Camille Paglia’s “court hermaphrodites”: “red hair en brosse, brown corduroy trousers, tweed coat with leather patches on the sleeves, a yellow tie and a green shirt: this was gaudy in those days, and Hector Bartlett was always dressed in bright colors. He was tall, with a pronounced stoop of the shoulders, which made him seem older than he was – I imagine at the time, he would be in his mid-thirties. His face was round with a second fat chin. He had a small but full baby-mouth as if forever asking to suck a dummy teat.” Though many critics have felt otherwise, no amount condescending liberal piety can excuse Hector’s routine aggressive subterfuge, moral mediocrity, and parasitic nature. It’s unlikely that Spark chose this character’s name randomly: “hectoring” is exactly what this he often does to those he encounters, and `Bartlett’ suggests his “pudgy,” pear-shaped physique.

Written in the plainest language possible but poetically conceived and executed, A Far Cry From Kensington belongs, with The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, The Girls of Slender Means (1963), The Driver’s Seat (1970), The Takeover (1976), and Loitering With Intent, among others, with the very best of Spark’s work.

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