Voltaire - "Memnon"

John Lothrop Motley - "The Rise of the Dutch Republic, 1566"

Henry Bore - "The Story of the Invention of Steel Pens"

Unknown - "The Koran"

New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
Book and Publishing News from Publishers Newswire(tm)

Looking for Child to be on Cover of a New Book, 'The Model Child'
PHILADELPHIA, Pa. -- The Philadelphia literary world will celebrate the launch of two new players today, April 10th: Kay Square Press, a new publishing company focused on Philadelphia-area artists, their stories, and their art; and Kay Square's first release, 'With the Rich and Mighty: Emlen Etting of Philadelphia' (ISBN: 978-0-9815129-0-7), a critical biography by Kenneth C. Kaleta.

FlatSigned Press Alleges Don Imus Remarks Damage Legacy of President Gerald R. Ford
NEW YORK, N.Y. -- Nathan Yungerberg, an accomplished model scout and professional child photographer is launching a nation-wide casting call to find the cover model for his highly anticipated book release, 'The Model Child: A Parents Guide to the Child Modeling Industry' (ISBN: 978-0-9817018-0-6).

Books: Merton of the Movies

H >> Harry Leon Wilson >> Merton of the Movies




"'Have you ever thought of playing serious parts?' I asked, being
now wholly put at my ease by his friendly, unaffected ways.

"He debated a moment, his face rigidly set, inscrutable to my
glance. Then he relaxed into one of those whimsically appealing
smiles that somehow are acutely eloquent of pathos. 'Serious parts--
with this low-comedy face of mine!' he responded. And my query had
been answered. Yet he went on, 'No, I shall never play Hamlet. I can
give a good imitation of a bad actor but, doubtless, I should give a
very bad imitation of a good one.

"Et vailet, Messieurs." I remarked to myself. The man with a few
simple strokes of the brush had limned me his portrait. And I was
struck again with that pathetic appeal in face and voice as he spoke
so confidingly. After all, is not pure pathos the hall-mark of great
comedy? We laugh, but more poignantly because our hearts are tugged
at. And here was a master of the note pathetic.

"Who that has roared over the Gill struggle with the dreadful spurs
was not even at the climax of his merriment sympathetically aware of
his earnest persistence, the pained sincerity of his repeated
strivings, the genuine anguish distorting his face as he senses the
everlasting futility of his efforts? Who that rocked with laughter
at the fox-trot lesson in Object, Alimony, could be impervious to
the facial agony above those incompetent, disobedient, heedless
feet?

"Here was honest endeavour, an almost prayerful determination, again
and again thwarted by feet that recked not of rhythm or even of bare
mechanical accuracy. Those feet, so apparently aimless, so little
under control, were perhaps the most mirthful feet the scored
failure in the dance. But the face, conscious of their clumsiness,
was a mask of fine tragedy.

"Such is the combination, it seems to me, that has produced the
artistry now so generally applauded, an artistry that perhaps
achieved its full flowering in that powerful bit toward the close of
Brewing Trouble--the return of the erring son with his agony of
appeal so markedly portrayed that for the moment one almost forgot
the wildly absurd burlesque of which it formed the joyous yet truly
emotional apex. I spoke of this.

"'True burlesque is, after all, the highest criticism, don't you
think?' he asked me. 'Doesn't it make demands which only a
sophisticated audience can meet-isn't it rather high-brow
criticism?' And I saw that he had thought deeply about his art.

"'It is because of this,' he went on, 'that we must resort to so
much of the merely slap-stick stuff in our comedies. For after all,
our picture audience, twenty million people a day--surely one can
make no great demands upon their intelligence.' He considered a
moment, seemingly lost in memories of his work. 'I dare say,' he
concluded, 'there are not twenty million people of taste and real
intelligence in the whole world.'

"Yet it must not be thought that this young man would play the
cynic. He is superbly the optimist, though now again he struck a
note of almost cynic whimsicality. 'Of course our art is in its
infancy--' He waited for my nod of agreement, then dryly added, 'We
must, I think, consider it the Peter Pan of the arts. And I dare say
you recall the outstanding biological freakishness of Peter.' But a
smile--that slow, almost puzzled smile of his--accompanied the
words.

"'You might,' he told me at parting, 'call me the tragic comedian.'
And again I saw that this actor is set apart from the run of his
brethren by an almost uncanny gift for introspection. He has
ruthlessly analysed himself. He knows, as he put it, 'what God meant
him to be.' Was here a hint of poor Cyrano?

"I left after some brief reference to his devoted young wife, who,
in studio or home, is never far from his side. "'It is true that I
have struggled and sacrificed to give the public something better
and finer,' he told me then; 'but I owe my real success all to her.'
He took the young wife's hand in both his own, and very simply,
unaffectedly, raised it to his cheek where he held it a moment, with
that dreamy, remembering light in his eyes, as of one striving to
recall bits of his past.

"'I think that's all,' he said at last. But on the instant of my
going he checked me once more. 'No, it isn't either.' He brightened.
'I want you to tell your readers that this little woman is more than
my wife--she is my best pal; and, I may also add, my severest
critic.'"