To borrow a line from Yellow Submarine, in What Good Are the Arts? the English literary critic John Carey disappears up his own existence: His brilliant, provocative, wrongheaded book ends up erasing itself in contradiction.
Mr. Carey, chief critic for London’s Sunday Times, is far too deliberate to be called a bomb thrower. Like his Read More
It’s no longer news that the Victorians, notwithstanding their reputation for prudery, propriety and sublimation, were possessed-like all human beings-of sexual appetites and the means of satisfying them in a wide variety of ways. If we ever doubted it, the historians and biographers who have lately devoted huge labors to the study of Victorian sexuality Read More