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Curator Reviews

Betty Fussell

As an aspiring intellectual in my early 20s, I was ruled by King Eliot, a Missouri boy who built an English castle of poetry, plays and criticism and gave all us English Lit majors a way to think and feel about life and art. We crowned him with cheers when he appeared at Harvard’s Memorial Hall in 1950, with students pounding on the door to get in. I know. I was there.

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