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Fifty Classics 1: The House of Mirth
My knowledge of American literature is abysmal, especially if you exclude honorary Englishmen T.S. Eliot and Henry James. So I was happy to broaden my horizons by reading Edith Wharton’s 1906 novel, The House of Mirth. I was aware of Edith Wharton as a name, of course, and as a friend of Henry James, but…
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Fifty Classics
Unaccountably, it’s 2026, and what’s more, it’s February already. This means my plan to track my degree experience fifty years later has gone awry somewhat, as I haven’t finished 1974-75. But I will press on with that, and move on to 75-76 in forthcoming posts. Before that, however, I need to share an announcement about…