[For the extraordinary Anatomy of Criticism], as for how few works of critical theory, one confidently predicts long life. It is wonderfully well written, and has such momentum that to disagree with it is almost physically painful, though very necessary. It has almost no repose, but makes up for that by being full of that seemingly inevitable wit that comes only of great intelligence—a little, if one seeks a comparison, like Shaw. And somewhere hidden, driving the book along, is a demon every bit as queer as metabiology. Only by standards which Professor Frye would not accept does it fall short of greatness in its kind: first, if it were widely accepted it would have no influence upon the course of literature itself, and the highest criticism has; secondly, it fails, or refuses, to convey anything of what might be called the personal presence of any of...