...was he so tainted as to be totally untrustworthy as a writer? Or was he so brilliant in his literary and social masks that his falsehoods could be overlooked, or at least made subordinate to his deathless triumphs in memoir, translation (of Joris-Karl Huysmans and such French-Canadian poets as Hector de St. Denys-Garneau), Wordsworthian lyric and pornography in various permutations? It is a radical question that his latest biographer, Brian Busby, considers in this interesting and stimulating work.The entire review can be found in today's edition and online here.
Welcome to this cyberplace, set up as a space for news and reviews of A Gentleman of Pleasure… and occasional jottings about John Glassco. Five years have now passed since publication, and I've moved on to other projects, but I'm leaving this up with the thought that those drawn to Glassco's writing will find something of interest.