Does one kind of literature afford a more refined pleasure than another kind? Can we compare the pleasure induced by Virginia Woolf with, say, that induced by Agatha Christie? Is "Casey at the Bat" potentially less (more) enjoyable than Keats's "Ode to Autumn"? Is the pleasure of reading Henry James similar to that of reading […]
SOURCE: ArtsJournal at 01:42PM on December 16, 2018