neglected books
was where I first came across Dorothy Richardson. The editor/blogger Brad has posted a dialogue with Kate McDonald another literary blogger who is an academic with the twitch of being her own tipstaff. There’s a lot of that about. Miriam Henderson’s unwinning ways are agreed on by both sans spoilers and a certain amount of chat about how great London is. They don’t get between you and the books and concur on the difficulty for the general reader of the novels or chapters of a single novel that will never seem complete. Notice I avoided ‘finding closure’.
Here are novels which seem truer to the life of the writer than the Diaries of Anais Nin of whom a lady reviewer in the Irish Times wrote ‘me Anais, you ninny’. This was before boxer shorts. I’m still at Honeycomb in which Miriam gets out more.
Note: In 1917 when it was published H.G. Wells, who collected bluestockings, and with whom Dorothy Richardson had an affair, remarked that it was 40 years since Mallock’s The New Republic was written and it was high time for another such review of the state of England. Boon was the result. By God I think I’ll read a bit of it now.
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