As ever with the London Review, one may apprehend the occasional glimmering of a possible point among the masses of discursive digression, but may never accrue enough evidence to be confident of its actual presence.
I've been reading the LRB since I was a kid (30 years ago) and I'm not sure what happened: Did I grow up or has it taken a nosedive? Seems like the reviews have become meandering, and increasingly political. I used to learn so much from each article and now I can't bring myself to finish a whole paper.
What I said isn't a pure criticism. A meander can be quite pleasant, but it needs at least to visit somewhere interesting, preferably though not necessarily outside its author's head.
As ever with HN comments, one may encounter the occasional glimmering of a convoluted verbosity from one that thinks himself so cultured he may as well be a yogurt.
