Jim Holt

Jim Holt on the Discreet Charm of Some Disnoids


There comes a point in life when one tends to get lazy about culture. Aesthetic entropy sets in. One loses the resolve to take on Tolstoy’s novels in the original Russian, to master the Goldberg Variations on the harpsichord, to write an epic poem, to reinterpret the prophetic works of Blake. When this happens, it seems to me that one has the option of lapsing into one of two forms of dilettantism: operatic or architectural. Neither is very demanding if pursued correctly and both offer a simulacrum of cultivation.

Sign Up to our newsletter

Receive free articles, highlights from the archive, news, details of prizes, and much more.

Follow Literary Review on Twitter