These last few days, I have been reading Harrison Ainsworth’s ‘Jack Sheppard.’ I knew little about this writer before, save that he wrote sensationalist literature
I have written before on this blog about the terrible allure of bad writing, both good bad writing, that is, writing that is so bad
The following article follows a line that has become more popular in recent years. This suggests that the previous view, that Victorian’s were repressed
I have recently been re-reading Elizabeth Gaskell’s ‘Mary Barton’. I thought I had long since written a review of it; it seems not. This is,
‘Sylvia’s Lovers’ by Elizabeth Gaskell in one sentence: ‘Philip Hepburn worships Sylvia Robson, and finds dishonour; Sylvia Robson worships Charley Kinraid, and finds disillusionment; Charley Kinraid worships himself, and finds a wife who agrees with him and a career in the Royal Navy.’
I never get much in the way of writing done in the summer and early autumn; family matters always take precedence. I feel guilty about
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