The Mansion By William Faulkner (Random House, $4.75) The Snopeses have always been there. No sooner did Faulkner come upon his central subject—how the corruption of the homeland, staining its best sons, left them without standards or defense—than Snopesism followed inexorably. Almost anyone can detect the Snopeses, but describing them is very hard. The usual reference to “amorality,” while accurate, is not sufficiently distinctive and by itself does not allow us to place them, as they should be placed, in a historical moment.
The 1956 campaign began in an atmosphere of political uncertainty. A good deal of water had gone over the dam since Eisenhower had discounted Communism as a major political issue in the United States. In the interval McCarthyism had been killed off.
In our relations with Russia and China, he does not believe that any settlement of the fundamental issues can be expected “for some time,” although local adjustments, such as the Austrian peace treaty, are possible. We need, therefore, to maintain “a tough, but flexible defense barrier” to deter both massive nuclear attack and localized aggression. We should work steadily and constructively for a meaningful disarmament agreement.
Lady Chatterley's Lover by D. H. Lawrence (Grove $6) Thirty-one years after its initial private publication in Italy, the unexpurgated final version of Lady Chatterley's Lover appears in this country. An abridged edition of this version was published here in 1930; the first version (of the three Lawrence wrote) appeared here in 1944. Now the general public may read what has heretofore been available only to contrabandists and scholars with access to locked library shelves. The novel's publication inevitably raises the issue, not only of intrinsic literary merit but of censorship.
Between an audience and a good film a certain confidence is quickly established. This is especially true of comedies. The first two or three minutes are enough to tell you whether a comic film is going to be a dud; the first eight or ten minutes are enough to establish this confidence. In it the audience implies: “We recognize that we are in good hands. Take over.” In addition to the fun the picture provides, there is an extra pleasure in having found a good film and knowing it while you’re enjoying it.
Some Like It Hot (United Artists) Eighth Day of the Week (Continental) Taiga (Bakros) Between an audience and a good film a certain confidence is quickly established. This is especially true of comedies. The first two or three minutes are enough to tell you whether a comic film is going to be a dud; the first eight or ten minutes are enough to establish this confidence. In it the audience implies: "We recognize that we are in good hands. Take over." In addition to the fun the picture provides, there is an extra pleasure in having found a good film and knowing it while you're enjoying it.
IT MAY BE unrealistic to expect that the Communist powers could explicitly admit that their past record over observing agreements has been bad. In the present international system few governments would be willing to incur the loss of face involved in such an admission. It would, however, be possible for the Communist powers (if they are sincere in wanting negotiations to reduce world tensions) to admit implicitly that there is a lack of trust in the value of promises of future performance and to work for agreements which would go as far as possible in providing guarantees for performance.
AS THEIR state chairman says,the Republicans in California are facing their moment of truth. Alarmed by the Democratic sweep in the June 3 primary, Vice President Nixon, GOP official of varying heft and profundity, and possibly even President Eisenhower will troop up and down the Golden State between now and November, trying to rescue ungainly Bill Knowland from the wrath of the voters. But most of the 1960 Democratic Hopefuls will also be pitched in for the party in California.
Vladimir Nabokov is best known, if he is known at all, as one of those ghostly heroes on the out-of-print register, fondly perpetuated by a mute coterie. It is quite in order, this soft pedal. Nabokov has at least two things going against him in this life which later on will make him the foremost retread of the day. He is wildly and liquidly sophisticated, and he writes as well as any man alive. With the publication of Lolita (1955) by a wayward English press in Paris, some fresh irony was laid on the idyll of Nabokov's literary reputation.