Who is speaking, and about what, and about whom?
Miss xxx has written a hideous undelightful constricted novel—what does Thackeray say to it. It is one of the most utterly disagreeable books I ever read—and having seen her makes it more so. She is so entirely—what Margaret Fuller was partially—a fire without ailment—one of the most distressing barren sights one can witness. Religion or devotion or whatever it is to be called may be impossible for such people now; but they have at any rate not found a substitute for it and it was better for the world when they comforted themselves with it.
Hint: it’s not this woman:
[Miss yyy] by her picture must be a Gorgon—I can quite believe all you tell me of her—a strong Dissenter-religious middle-class person—she will never go far, I think.
For the subject of the first diatribe, look here; for the second look here. Thought the [first] novel rather good myself. The writer is this guy, writing to this guy.
…in a letter of 21 March 1855, quoted in Robert Brittain, ed., The Booklover’s Almanac (HarperPerennial ed. 1991)
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