I cannot recommend this too highly. Trilling's eminence as a critic continues to amaze me. There's a grandeur and a seriousness in every one of these essays. So many who presume to treat a particular novel, story or poem as a specimen of history, of sociology, of philosophy, of "the politics of culture" etc. too often end up using the works under consideration as pretexts for extra-literary blather, as indicted representatives of some to-be-chastened old regime, as excuses for the critic to grind their own, often dull, socio-political axe. The Anglo-American New Critics and the Russo-Czech Formalists have always impressed me with their tasteful abstention. But Trilling shows that with a scrupulous sense of what's relevant to the discussion and an unresentful respect for the work he's approaching, the hard-to-pull-off attempt to show literature's connectedness can yield rich insight. Trilling's strength, his difference, is that the work is always enough; he talks about politics and philosophy and social history but the privileged ground of the discussion is always the literary work. He can mostly ignore technical questions of style and form without appearing to devalue the work, because even if Keats and Austen and James aren't preeminently master stylists to him, they are something just as impressive, moral philosophers, bearers of luminous comment. His concentration on authors as thinkers actually gives one a more exalted sense of the literary work than you get from the New Critics. But generalizing about the most appropriate critical method is a crazy-making waste of time: Trilling exemplifies Eliot's remark that there is really no best qualification beyond being very intelligent.