Departing from her usual practice of zinging brash, hostile questions at world leaders, Italian Journalist Oriana Fallaci has turned philosopher-novelist. Her new book, Letter to a Child Never Born, to be published in English next month by Simon & Schuster, is the monologue of a nameless, husbandless professional delivered to her unborn child. The baby dies in the womb, but not before its mother probes her own motives for childbearing and the infant's right to be born. "This is a story about a doubt, the biggest of all--whether or not to bring a human being into the world," says Fallaci, 46. Is the iconoclast revealing her own sphinxlike self? Hardly. According to Fallaci, Letter is not True Confessions: "I have experienced unfulfilled maternity once," she says, "but it is not my story." Though the book is stridently feminist, the Italian version is a bestseller among both sexes. Skeptical as ever, Fallaci conceded that her book was a hit "only when I saw it in the hands of taxi drivers."

"I always feel the best way to do a story is to get involved," says Jim Hartz, traveling co-host of the Today show. Which is why he allowed A.L. Blanton, mayor of Plains, Ga., to do a Samson number on Hartz's hair. Since the protean Blanton also works as a barber--and local air traffic controller--Hartz figured one way to conduct an interview with the mayor was under the clippers. When Hartz got back home to New York, his regular hair stylist flipped his lid, condemning the job as "lopsided" and pointing out "there was a big hunk of hair missing on the right side." Joked he: "What would have happened if the interview had taken place in an air control tower?" Getting wind of the comments, Blanton sniffed: "It doesn't bother me a bit, when I consider the source is some New York Yankee."

When she was a child, Isabella Rossellini made up her mind not to be an actress like Mommy or a film director like Daddy. She wanted to be a circus ringmaster. Now, at age 24, the daughter of Ingrid Bergman and Roberto Rossellini is still hung up on rings--only these house a different breed of cat. As a reporter for Italian television, Isabella has just finished interviewing 40 U.S. boxers --including Muhammad Ali, Joe Frazier, Sugar Ray Robinson and Joe Louis--for an upcoming six-hour special on the history of the sport. "I used to think boxers were all big muscle but no brain. It isn't true," burbles the ringside reporter. Signorina Rossellini is also a New York correspondent for a weekly Italian news show and often turns for pointers to Stepsister Pia Lindstrom, an NBC correspondent. The final judgment comes from Father Roberto, who watches Isabella on the air in Rome and assesses her performances. Says Isabella: "I hate to take orders from home, but he's a damn good director."

"His hair is dyed, his teeth are capped, his middle is girdled, his voice is a husk and his eyes film over with glassy impersonality." So reads the description of Elvis Presley at age 40 in The Rolling Stone Illustrated History of Rock & Roll. Rock musicians are stoned with praise and putdowns in this new anthology (Random House; $19.95). Elton John is called "a pudgy robot" who is "an object of pubescent sexual fantasy." Singer-Songwriter Joni Mitchell, writes Contributor Janet Maslin, did not recognize her "giddy romanticism" until she had recorded six albums. As for Janis Joplin, who died in 1970 of a drug overdose, Writer Ellen Willis notes that her revolt against conventional femininity "dovetailed with a stereotype--the ballsy, one-of-the-guys chick who is a needy, vulnerable cream puff underneath." Besides such quarrying of rock egos, the book signifies that the subject itself has finally grown respectable: the anthology's giant glossy cover is cannily designed to grace the coffee table.

Actor Lee Marvin, 52, shoots up the Wild West in style, but he lost his first showdown with the California Supreme Court. Marvin's legal troubles began when his ex-roommate filed suit against him. Her claim: the two made an oral agreement to share all property accumulated during the time they lived together (1964-70). Michelle Triola Marvin, as she calls herself, demanded that the actor ante up a solid million--including shares in film rights, a home in Malibu, and an island in the South Pacific. Though Marvin denied that such an agreement was ever made, the California court ruled in favor of his 36-year-old ex. The landmark decision, handed down last week, states that cohabitation without marriage gives both parties the right to share property if they separate. Said Michelle's lawyer, Marvin Mitchelson: "This decision will open up the courthouse door to everyone living together." The door better be revolving. According to surveys in California, there are more people in the 21-to-30 age group in the state living together than are actually married.

The paunch may protrude a bit farther stage front, but otherwise Tevye the milkman hasn't changed much since Zero Mostel created the role in 1964. Fiddler on the Roof, the longest-running show on Broadway (nearly eight years), is back from its Diaspora, and Mostel, 61, is again playing the part like a hyperthyroid zeppelin. Why did Mostel return to Anatevka? "Greed!" he bellowed at an opening-night party last week at Manhattan's Tavern on the Green, where he Zeroed in on friends and tugged at a lady's bouffant wig. Wife Kate finally got him settled down for a midnight supper and sighed: "I have only one more opening night left in me." Her mate was an ecumenical pain during the pre-Broadway road tour. Explained Kate: "He would walk up the aisles and people would say, 'God bless you.' He began to feel like the Pope."

As the zany, therapy-hopping young wife in the popular French export Cousin, Cousine, Actress Marie-France Pisier is coming across as a dark-haired Carole Lombard. Off-camera, Pisier holds a master's degree in law and is called Marie-Pensee (Thinking-Marie) by her fellow French film star, Jean-Paul Belmondo. Eager to be known in the U.S. as a serious actress as well as comedienne, Pisier is now in Hollywood filming Sidney Sheldon's melodrama, The Other Side of Midnight. Her role: an actress on trial for murder. Pisier especially likes speaking English for a change. Says Thinking-Marie: "You use fewer facial muscles."

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