The second person singular, and other essays

In Short

This collection gathers literary essays that offer a focused, often rigorous appraisal of poets, novelists, and the evolution of the English language. Through examinations of figures like Shakespeare, Jane Austen, and Coventry Patmore, the writing explores the intersection of intellect, moral gravity, and technical mastery. By analyzing the "unconscious poetry" of the past and the shifting functions of grammar, the book serves as both a historical critique and a defense of high literary standards. Its lasting value lies in its sharp, exacting prose and its unwavering insistence that literature is a serious, vital pursuit.

The Story

The collection begins with an inquiry into Shakespeare’s depiction of royalty, positioning his "kingliness" as a fundamental act of faith in human dignity that transcends the mere historical record. From this high ground, the discussion shifts toward the Elizabethan lyricists, specifically Robert Greene, whose work is characterized by a "lightness" that requires a reader’s deliberate attention to bypass stale conventions. This theme—that the reader must meet the writer halfway—recurs as the essays move through time.

The narrative arc transitions into the biographies and works of earlier writers, treating them not as dusty relics, but as living, flawed entities. There is a moving account of Arabella Stuart, whose imprisonment and literary efforts highlight the tragic silencing of a mind, followed by a critique of the "classic novelist" and the period’s obsession with landscape as a gauge of moral taste. The essays weigh the merits of Joanna Baillie’s structured tragedies against the "gentle spinsterly manner" of Jane Austen, observing how the latter’s derision and caricature often mask a more complex, albeit secondary, quality of art.

As the focus turns to the nineteenth century, the essays become more assertive regarding the evolution of poetic craft. The author engages with the "violence" of George Darley, the sincere, traditionalist war poetry of Sydney Dobell, and the towering influence of George Meredith. Meredith is lauded for elevating the novel into a sophisticated vehicle for philosophy and spiritual insight, effectively bridging the gap between fiction and poetry.

The final movement of the book addresses the mechanics of language itself. The author laments the loss of grammatical nuance in modern speech, particularly the decline of the "second person singular," which she views as a symptom of a broader cultural slovenliness. The collection concludes by contrasting the "industrial" utility of contemporary English with the richer, more expressive potential of a language that retains its "sequestered intention." Throughout, the argument remains consistent: literature is not merely for comfort or "soothing," but for challenging the mind and honoring the profound dignity of language. The progression from Shakespearean archetypes to the minute, daily usage of pronouns creates a cohesive argument for the necessity of precision, discipline, and high-mindedness in the act of both writing and reading.

How It Unfolds

The Shakespearean foundation The essays open with an exploration of Shakespeare’s regal characters, arguing that his "implicit belief" in the nobility of the human spirit stands as a standard against which all later literary effort must be measured.

The Elizabethan lightness Turning to the lyricists, the argument shifts to Robert Greene, whose seemingly casual verses demand a reader’s active participation to appreciate the "intelligible beauty" hidden beneath outdated nymphs and pastoral settings.

The critique of the novel The focus moves to Jane Austen and Joanna Baillie, dissecting how their rigid structures and "consequence" reveal the inherent worldliness of their respective social settings.

The nineteenth-century interregnum The middle beats examine the transition of poetic power through figures like George Darley and Sydney Dobell, emphasizing the importance of "good faith" in poetry even during periods of apparent creative decline.

The ascent of Meredith The analysis reaches a peak with George Meredith, who is presented as the architect of a new kind of novel that integrates intellect, philosophy, and sympathy to reach the status of "imaginative art."

The decay of grammar The final movement turns to the degradation of the English language, where the loss of the second person singular serves as a metaphor for the decline of precision in a hurried, modern civilization.

The People

Shakespeare stands at the center as the ultimate touchstone for "royalty in the mind," a figure whose faith in human dignity provides the standard for all others. Arabella Stuart emerges as a poignant, tragic figure, representing the "expanded mind" crushed by the machinery of the state. Jane Austen is presented as a master of derision and cumulative detail, though she is critiqued for a "gentle spinsterly" focus that sometimes sacrifices deeper spirituality. Coventry Patmore appears as a heroic, disciplined poet who, through his "extraordinary mastery of style," successfully treats poetry as a sacred, incarnate word. George Meredith is framed as a transformative intellect who, unlike his contemporaries, elevates the novel into a serious pursuit of wisdom. Together, these figures represent the spectrum of literary ambition, from the victim of political power to the master of linguistic form.

In Its Own Voice

"Mankind will in time probably forget or deny that there was ever anything in the life of the world answering to Shakespeare’s royalty in Perdita, or to his princeliness in Arviragus and Guiderius."

The author establishes the high, almost sacred threshold of Shakespearean characterization early in the collection.

"The industrial word has less and less craft, less dignity, less leisure, less rest, and more mere utility."

In the final essay, the author critiques the modern tendency to prioritize efficiency over the precise, careful use of language.

What It's Really About

The central theme is the moral and intellectual duty of the writer to maintain the dignity of language. The essays argue that literature is not a tool for "soothing" or providing easy comfort, but a demanding craft that requires a "sequestered intention." The book questions the health of a culture that abandons grammatical precision and historical depth, suggesting that the "industrialization" of words mirrors a broader decline in human spirit. It is a defense of the "classic" in the sense of the permanent and the profound, urging the reader to reject the casual, the "paltry," and the "slovenly" in favor of works that possess the weight of authentic insight.

Why Read It Today

Readers who value literary criticism that functions as a high-stakes intellectual exercise will find this collection rewarding. It feels like a long, focused conversation with a remarkably well-read mentor who expects you to keep up. The experience is one of sustained attention; there is no fluff, and the author’s warmth is tempered by an uncompromising demand for excellence. You will find it particularly compelling if you believe that language is a fragile, precious resource that needs protection from the erosion of modern usage.

However, the book is not for those seeking light entertainment or brief, breezy summaries. The author assumes a high level of classical and historical knowledge, and her period-specific attitudes toward certain writers can feel demanding or, occasionally, sharp. You must be prepared to look up references and engage with arguments that do not shy away from elitism. What stays with you, long after finishing, is not just the specific critiques of this or that poet, but a renewed sense of responsibility toward your own reading. You leave the book feeling that every word you read or write is an act that contributes to—or detracts from—the health of the collective culture.