There’s a serial killer in Hollywood and its name is Fame. Its weapon of choice is a prescription pad. You can be rich and famous in La-La land, change your name, your nose, your bra size, but you can’t escape the pressure of trying to get to the top, and staying a star. The Fame Game has no rules and just one end.
A compulsive international story that starts with a British actress’s love affair in the late Twenties with a royal prince, then the world’s most eligible bachelor. From there, Frederic Mullally’s longest and most imaginative novel takes the reader first to New Providence Island, then to Bronxville to observe the blooming of the two singular daughters from childhood to womanhood.
Cows are shipped into Cornwall on trains and lorries, spend time on Cornish farms to qualify their milk for Cornish milk status, and are shipped back again to Devon, or Somerset, or wherever they’ve come from.
“It’s huge business for the Cornish Authority.” “A cash cow, you could say,” Tristram contributed.
Can you work out which two areas of this diagram represent lonely bald eagles who live on clifftops and hunt at dawn, and eagles who live on clifftops who hunt at noon and have many friends and a full head of feathers?