Yale University Press, 301 pp., $22.50
Either you see the point of Ruskin or you don't. Once the Victorian age was over, he lapsed into limbo like Carlyle, with whom he has a marked spiritual and stylistic affinity, and in his own country at least became the kind of curiosity whom Lytton Strachey delighted to mock in his suave studies of the monsters—awful or pathetic—who existed before Bloomsbury brought enlightenment.
Review, 2177 words
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