Gone Tomorrow

Forgive me, but I think By Love Possessed is not a good book but a bad one, not well written but poorly written, not a human document but an inhuman one. This is not to say that James Gould Cozzens cannot write good books—it is clear that he can, and that he is a master plotmaker; it is not to say he cannot write—he can, obviously, and he can write brilliantly; and as to whether he is human, I should say By Love Possessed (Harcourt Brace, $5.00), leaves the question moot. I, for one, would want to look elsewhere for evidence of a more conclusive nature; perhaps, even, one must go for an answer to that fastness in the plains of New Jersey where he is said to live, in isolation with his wife.

By Love Possessed means to be a great many things. It means to be Tolstoyan and a masterpiece, and as both was it acclaimed by Brendan Gill of the New Yorker, who has led, though not by many lengths, the parade of its panegyrists. Certainly it means to be a great work of realism. Its characters, indeed, mean are society. “They are society” John Fischer of Harper’s jubilates, and that is “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God.”

About the Author

William F. Buckley Jr.

William F. Buckley Jr. founded National Review magazine in 1955.

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Forgive me, but I think By Love Possessed is not a good book but a bad one, not well written but poorly written, not a human document but an inhuman one. This is not to say that James Gould Cozzens cannot write good books—it is clear that he can, and that he is a master plotmaker; it is not to say he cannot write—he can, obviously, and he can write brilliantly; and as to whether he is human, I should say By Love Possessed (Harcourt Brace, $5.00), leaves the question moot. I, for one, would want to look elsewhere for evidence of a more conclusive nature; perhaps, even, one must go for an answer to that fastness in the plains of New Jersey where he is said to live, in isolation with his wife.

By Love Possessed means to be a great many things. It means to be Tolstoyan and a masterpiece, and as both was it acclaimed by Brendan Gill of the New Yorker, who has led, though not by many lengths, the parade of its panegyrists. Certainly it means to be a great work of realism. Its characters, indeed, mean are society. “They are society” John Fischer of Harper’s jubilates, and that is “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God.”