So many critics with a social conscience seem to suffer from an uneasy suspicion that, perhaps, Art is wicked. Any criticism, therefore, of Mr. Daiches’ position—and it is one that I used to hold but now believe to be unsound—can be directed, not at what he knows about the novel but what he assumes about the Modern World; I would trust Mr. Daiches anywhere with a book but not very far with a ballot.
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