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Giles Lytton Strachey was a British writer and critic. He is best known for establishing a new form of biography in which psychological insight and sympathy are combined with irreverence and wit. His 1921 biography Queen Victoria was awarded the James Tait Black Memorial Prize.
This is the book for you if - you don't know much about French literature - enjoy a good story with some references to history and the authors themselves, - on the condition of it being a brief, enjoyable rundown of the subject matter
As for myself, hearing Stratchey wax poetic about de La Fontaine, la Bruyère and Voltaire was somehow more incentive to go through centuries of French history than school ever offered, or, in the words of Homer Simpson (I did go there):
Concise non-fic, concise non-fic, does whatever a concise non-fic does, Can be read and enjoyed, Even though It's nonfic Lookout!...
Look out, indeed, for no one can deny Strachey's talent once he starts one what I suspect are subjects he likes (on the other hand, I fancy the mere mention of Voltaire's antics would be enough to make a phone book desirable. I'm biased towards small old-fashioned clothette hardcovers, though).
This succinct piece of literature history, with the artistic twang to its precise accents and an insightful overview of significant works in French literature is quite effective in what it promises to achieve, and engaging, on the road there - not to mention a great source of recommendations >:)
This is a fine volume that made me interested in sampling some of the books he writes about here, but my reaction upon opening their covers was blech. He does a very good job of getting you revved up before you slide face-first into the snowbank, which is what a good teacher is supposed to do.
It’s funny to think of him slaving away on this: There really is very little to it, save style. All the same, it is delightful to watch a master stylist teach himself his art. I have at this point read pretty much everything Strachey wrote—biographies, essays, reviews, correspondence—so it felt like a sort of homecoming to burn through his first book in an evening.
My copy appears to be the American first edition. I picked it up in Detroit for seven dollars.
A whirlwhind chronological tour of the greats of French literature. Typically idiosycratic Strachey is nonetheless well informed in his commentaries. I am however surprised that he omitted Emile Zola from his "landmark" writers whilst including Flaubert and Maupassant.
Read on my phone (appropriately enough, considering this book was part of a series deliberately intended for mass dissemination; I like to think that even a hundred years ago the editors of the Home University Library of Modern Knowledge would be pleased at the idea that one day in the faraway future someone like me would be reading this stuff for the second time over on their portable cellular telephone; although in actual probable fact they'd probably just be sore over Canada no longer being a Dominion and my skull shape being unsuitably Hebraic). A beautiful work. Filled with lovely sentences, perfectly balanced and clear, and critical judgments so fair and so stern they have something of the quality of the imagined face of an ancient king.