Críticas:
"Tynan was unique in that he combined the soul of an artist with the descriptive skill of a journalist. His style, blending voluptuous ease with verbal precision, was also a constant instrument of pleasure." --Michael Billington, The Guardian (London)"Kenneth Tynan was once of the finest dramatic critic of the twentieth century. I put him up there alongside Shaw . . . he was a major influence on what has now become our modern theatre." --Laurence Olivier"Tynan's entries remain sharp and stylish to the end, as his wit, rage, and ambition jockey for position." --The New Yorker"Wickedly pleasurable. Like the dazzling Tynan himself, quite irresistible." --Washington Post Book World"I would only willingly rank him with Hazlitt and Lamb. He is more worldly than Shaw, more fun than Levin, more interesting than, well, the Johnsons." --Michael Coveney, Financial Times (London)"A candid and revealing snapshot of mid-20th-century cultural life, seen through eccentric but shrewdly perceptive eyes." --Kirkus Reviews (starred review)"To those of us who grew up in the sixties, he was a rare, exotic father-figure, wicked, incorrigible but full of care and nurture. And still a sentence from him is worth a book from all the rest." --Steve Grant, Time Out"His politics (Marxist) and his sexual habits (sadomasochist) provide sensationalism to spare: his observations will thus offend, titillate, or amuse. Tynan had acquaintances but few friends; a shameless name dropper, he sought the warmth of social contact. The value of this diary rests in its honesty, self-loathing, pleasure in life, and insight into his period. The critic's acumen illuminates the text throughout, as Tynan documents the shift in power from the Olivier years to the Peter Hall regime at the National Theatre, critiques travel and food, and savors the human comedy." --Thomas E. Luddy, Salen State College, Massachusetts, Library Journal"Consistently fascinating . . . witty . . . thought-provoking." --Publishers Weekly
Reseña del editor:
An engaging, and intimate look at one of the most feared and respected critics of our time. 'Be light, stinging, insolent, and melancholy' were the words hanging over the desk of Kenneth Tynan in his early days as a critic for the London Observer, and his journals are just that. For Tynan, arguably the greatest critic of the twentieth century, all life was theater and demanded to be conveyed as such. Whether he is feverishly recording his impressions of the historic fight between Muhammad Ali and George Foreman, recounting a scandalously successful meeting between Marlene Deitrich and John F. Kennedy, or venting his frustrations about working with Laurence Olivier, Tynan's wicked observations are consistently clever and inspired. Tynan's journals are an intoxicating mix of aesthetics, theater, love, sex, and politics from the perspective of a man who often served as confidant to the glittering personalities of his age. Already excerpted in the New Yorker, they offer not only an uncensored glimpse into the man himself but also an informed and irreverent view of our time.
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