This is a themed anthology which suffers from the usual disease - the effort of compiling such disparate material is a tokenistic one. It is meant as a revelation of what houses mean in human lives, and has a very particular bent toward writers. As such, it's a slightly middling affair. The writing itself being the core of these people's lives, any talk of their houses, however influential in glancing ways, feels like an outer layer of a secret we've already penetrated. Outer layers of course retain their interest, though it doesn't feel particularly essential: one's fascination briefly flares (in some cases) and then dies down without much permanent increment. To do the volume justice, a couple of discoveries have stayed with me: the fact that Lear's nonsense wasn't always brilliant, rather drab, is a reality-check - all tikky-wikky and witchy-wee; and that the Disraelis were seen as arrivistes; and the sad story of Yeats' tower, which is the only more lasting memory associated with the subject matter. Like most subject anthologies, this is just OK.
Monday, August 29, 2022
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)