My father, a part-time casino gambler, once told the story of a blackjack player holding two tens and an ace who asked for a nonher(prenominal) card. The moral, I believe, was that sometimes its best to leave well fully grown al wholeness. Case in point, sequels to classics. Other than Henry IV, crack up two and Second Corinthians, Im hard put to find virtuoso thats worked. except given encouragement, there are always those players who cant eliminate a accident to do the best one and only(a) better. jibe to Michael Walsh, he was doing lunch at a trendy eating place in midtown Manhattan with a publisher one day when, unwrap of the blue, she asked if hed be interested in writing a sequel to Casablanca. not a screenplay but a novel, on the company of the quixotic potboiler a few years back that told Margaret Mitchell fans what happened to Scarlett OHara after Rhett state he didnt give a damn. Odd, I thought, that a generator whose literary oeuvre included such heart-thu mpers as The for the first time One-Hundred Years of Carnegie Hall should get the beef to embellish one of my generations most cherished classics. Why not me? Envy, yes. If anyone is to get the chance to fail at a Casablanca sequel, why not soulfulness who lived through the era and knows the characters and their story first-hand?

To resolve from his dust cap photo, the blow-dried author of As Time Goes By acquired his interest in Rick and Ilsa by osmosis, at one of those with-it Harvard gatherings in the 60s, where the likes of Todd Gitlin and Al Gore bonded at the blab Theatre distributively year to celebrate Bogart Week. No substantive feel for the ma! terial. ilk Linda Ronstadts rendering of Cole Porter, the words and melody may be there, but absent the spirit...you know what... If you extremity to get a full essay, order it on our website:
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