Mazes, by Hugh Kenner (North Point Press, 320 pp., $22.95)
Hugh Kenner never does what one expects a critic to do, which makes him the appropriate explicator of modernist literature, which doesn’t do what the nineteenth century (which means most of us) expects it to do. He doesn’t act as moral judge, aesthetic arbiter, or herald of fashion. He’s more like a mechanic (he’s the author of The Mechanic Muse) who explains how things work, and lets you decide what to do with them. Your first impression is likely to be that his concerns are narrow, quirky. But his stream of unclassifiable insights and an unrivaled flash of phrase keep you reading, delighted and pleasantly puzzled.




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