Superman : Legacy peut maintenant continuer à gonfler son casting avec l'arrivée María Gabriela De Faría.
Did I really fall asleep last evening, reading John Buchan stories? Did I really see a park derelict, claiming to be a South American president, disarm 2 assassins while loll- ing in his underwear in Ned Leithen's Mayfair flat, with schoolboy badinage on thor- oughbred racing? Just as Leithen credited the tramp's story by appraising his underwear, "which seemed to be of the finest material," I knew this was a Buchan story when Sir Edward pronounced him, "not a wastrel." Who knew, back in the 1920s, that Lord Tweedsmuir's writings would go through an entire cycle of imperial ascendancy and embarrassment in fewer than three generations, only to emerge in the 21st Century as the stuff of the acutest penetra-tion of goddy blogs and fashion publicity, alike? I don't know that he's in for the kind of rediscovery Graham Greene made of Kipling and Stevenson, but plainly Bruce Weber has figured him out. The capital of the undergarment is nostalgia and its chaplain is John Buchan. Snowy as the purely driven is his past, more formid- able than vanity is his idolatry of chums. It's not for us to ask if it's OK; it goes on and on. A vigorous Presbyterian, Buchan's gentleman is almost always wholly self-made, but of obviously pref- erred whole cloth, requiring only a brush with some scoundrel to e- licit the spark of native flint, casting a permanent aura which his kind will decipher, instantly. The history of the brand name, Abercrombie & Fitch, is prob- ably not the fall of man it has seemed. (I still comfortably wear several garments I acquired in college when A&F were yar). The sale of boytummies on the backs of boy heroes is not quite new. Buchan wrote the same story a dozen hundred times. A boy, always alone, is sometimes in uniform but usually at greater risk on surreptitious assignment. He feels his heroics in public school sports were unremarkable but we all know better, and so, in the end, does he. He is the boy who can pose credibly as the village idiot and lead a resistance movement, say, or crush a revolt in the raj; and we never stop to wonder why the boors he is humbling never get around to noticing the sublime set of his jaw, the steadiness of his gaze, the affecting frolic of his cowlick - until it is too late to reckon their awesome power. I have his entire oeuvre, if that is not too grand a term, in first editions from my father's boyhood, and I admit I've been reluctant to chuck it all for Frank O'Hara - to cite another literary partisan. There's almost never a lady in the entire opus (there wasn't, in his most famous Hannay story, The 39 Steps, until Hitchcock supplied one). Yet, to this day, I'll slip beneath the covers late at night with a paragraph or two of extremely simplified, serenely racist and appallingly imperialist stuff. Buchan's tales of clubmen in their youth are a lullaby any boy, anytime, will understand. John Buchan The Runagates Club Dedicated to Lady Salisbury Sing a Song of Sixpence: Sir Edward Leithen's Story Houghton Mifflin, 1928© v Bruce Weber i et passim Derek ii Jeremy Young
Explore the ultimate superman gifts for adults that celebrate the iconic Man of Steel. Dive into a world of inspiration and find the perfect way.
Explore the ultimate superman gifts for adults that celebrate the iconic Man of Steel. Dive into a world of inspiration and find the perfect way.
