Seduction and Betrayal

by Elizabeth Hardwick, Joan Didion (Introduction)

The novelist and essayist Elizabeth Hardwick is one of contemporary America's most brilliant writers, and Seduction and Betrayal, in which she considers the careers of women writers as well as the larger question of the presence of women in literature, is her most passionate and concentrated work of criticism. A gallery of unforgettable portraits--of Virginia Woolf and Zelda Fitzgerald, Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Carlyle--as well as a provocative reading of such works as Wuthering Heights, Hedda Gabler, and the poems of Sylvia Plath, Seduction and Betrayal is a virtuoso performance, a major writer's reckoning with the relations between men and women, women and writing, writing and life.

Genres: Nonfiction, Essays, Feminism, Literary Criticism, Books About Books, Literature, Criticism

224 pages, Paperback

First published May 28, 1974

About the author

Elizabeth Hardwick was an American literary critic, novelist, and short story writer.

Hardwick graduated from the University of Kentucky in 1939. She was awarded a Guggenheim Fellowship in 1947. She was the author of three novels: The Ghostly Lover (1945), The Simple Truth (1955), and Sleepless Nights (1979). A collection of her short fiction, The New York Stories of Elizabeth Hardwick, will be published in 2010. She also published four books of criticism: A View of My Own (1962), Seduction and Betrayal (1974), Bartleby in Manhattan (1983), and Sight-Readings (1998). In 1961 she edited The Selected Letters of William James and in 2000 she published a short biography, Herman Melville, in Viking Press's Penguin Lives series..

In 1959, Hardwick published in Harper's, "The Decline of Book Reviewing," a generally harsh and even scathing critique of book reviews published in American periodicals of the time. The 1962 New York City newspaper strike helped inspire Hardwick, Robert Lowell, Jason Epstein, Barbara Epstein, and Robert B. Silvers to establish The New York Review of Books, a publication that became as much a habit for many readers as The New York Times Book Review, which Hardwick had eviscerated in her 1959 essay.

In the '70s and early '80s, Hardwick taught writing seminars at Barnard College and Columbia University's School of the Arts, Writing Division. She gave forthright critiques of student writing and was a mentor to students she considered promising.

From 1949 to 1972 she was married to the poet Robert Lowell; their daughter is Harriet Lowell.

In 2008, The Library of America selected Hardwick's account of the Caryl Chessman murders for inclusion in its two-century retrospective of American True Crime writing.

Reviews

[Jenna · Rating 3 out of 5]

I wanted to like this book a lot more, given how much I adore Sleepless Nights. Some parts I did like: (1) the Bloomsbury essay, which trained my eye to be more attuned to the way Woolf's class prejudices manifest in her writing (Hardwick's juxtaposition of Woolf's handling of the Miss Kilman character in Mrs. Dalloway and Forster's handling of Leonard Bast in Howards End makes a convincing argument), and (2) the "Aha!" moment in the title essay where Hardwick analyzes how readers react differently to the Clyde and Roberta characters in Dreiser's An American Tragedy (Roberta, unlike Clyde, buys into the idea that marriage with Clyde could paper over the wounds inflicted by capitalism and income inequality, and it is this "simplicity" that makes Roberta "unforgivable" to the reader, Hardwick argues). I wish there were more "Aha!" moments like that in this book. I was disappointed in particular at the sparsity of new insights in the essay about the Brontes, but maybe this has to do with me being a huge Bronte aficionada who's read everything that's been thought and said about the Brontes already.

It's interesting to see the range of responses other Goodreads reviewers have had to this book: e.g., how a couple criticize Hardwick for what they perceive as her lack of empathy for the mentally ill in the essays about Woolf, Plath, and Zelda Fitzgerald. Having recently read Kay Redfield Jamison's book detailing Hardwick's marriage to Robert Lowell, I personally find it impossible to attribute any irregularities in these essays to a lack of empathy, per se. The Zelda essay is actually especially fascinating when one considers the parallels Hardwick must have perceived between the Fitzgerald marriage and her own marriage to Lowell: when one recalls how much pain Lowell caused Hardwick by appropriating excerpts from her letters and diaries for use in his books, this context adds significant nuance and irony to Hardwick's observation that "It does not seem of much importance that [Zelda's] diaries and letters were appropriated [by Scott].... Zelda herself did not seem greatly concerned about any of this...." And then one starts to wonder whether Hardwick's restraint in describing FSF's great cruelties to his wife might have been influenced by her own unwillingness to view her own husband as such a villain. In any case, FSF's inhumanity comes across loud and clear without any need for embellishment on Hardwick's part -- one might argue that her restraint makes it come across even louder and clearer.

Here, from an essay about Ibsen's Rosmersholm, is another passage where Hardwick seems to speak with the wisdom of not only literary learnedness but also personal experience: "In a love triangle, brutality on one side and vanity on the other must be present.... Without the heightened sense of importance a man naturally acquires when he is the object of the possessive determinations of two women, nothing interesting could happen.... The triangle demands the cooperation of two in the humiliation of one, along with some period of pretense, suffering, insincerity, or self-delusion."

And from the same essay, this passage about Ibsen's The Master Builder: "Ibsen has not made [the character of Mrs. Solness] appealing enough, not being able to imagine just what an artist's wife, or the wife of a man of great ambition, can do except be jealous, suspicious, and ill."

[Derek · Rating 5 out of 5]

Straight out brilliant in terms of both style and content. These essays made me want to return to so many classic works of fiction. The essay on the Brontes is particularly lovely. And what sensitive, empathetic biographical sketches of Zelda Fitzgerald, Sylvia Plath, and Dorothy Wordsworth! I also loved her feminist overview of seduction and rape in European literature across the centuries. And the essays on A Doll’s House and Hedda Gabler are absolutely models of close reading and literary criticism and made me eager to give both of these plays another chance. Such an exciting reading experience! Her sometimes subtle sense of irony is gorgeous as well.

[Luke · Rating 2 out of 5]

As is the case for many a writer, what makes for good writing doesn't make for good human being. Hardwick has the sort of odious confidence whose origins always lie in hierarchical classification of the arbitrary, whether it be sanity, gender dichotomy, or class. Take away all that, and all that'd be left would be various petty, if artfully syntaxed, rantings about peep show suicide, the righteous introvert, the inevitable pathos of rape, and men needing to do what men need to do. The fact that I still find this extraordinarily comfortable to read simply attests to how often I've been trained to associate the various name drops and theories with manna from the heaven, not instinctive preference. I keep my head more often than not these days, so I'll be taking this self-absorbed meditation on the Brontës, Ibsen, Zelda Fitzgerald, Plath, Woolf, and Dorothy Wordsworth as simply that: informative, but solely as a map with myriads of spaces that need be filled with something more humanely filling than "Here there be Monsters."

The book started on decent note and went downhill from there, belying the admittedly well structured quality of prose that maintained itself throughout. While I'll admit to falling more often into the trap of uncritical engagement when it comes to any of the Brontë sisters, Hardwick herself couldn't do much to compromise her still grudgingly admiring picture of the trio other than go poor Branwell every five to ten pages. Oh yes, poor poor white boy, the only one to get a supreme education without dying of tuberculosis cause the school's a cesspit, so so sensitive in the face of being everything his sisters could never have been and still fucking everything up. After that, there was Ibsen (apparently 'women and literature' meant 'literature and women as tangential as possible to actual production of literature of involving actual women), Z. Fitzgerald/Plath/Woolf (reading Hardwick's fetishistic treatment of mental illness is like being forced to watch someone attempt to masturbate with a bookmark), and Wordsworth/Carlyle (sister in one and wife and the other, but you could tell Hardwick was dying to make the incest connection). As such, this book is little more than a wayside on the way to better pastures, as afterwards I'm hellbent on reading Z. Fitzgerald/Plath and studying the others (even Ibsen cause it's not his fault Hardwick's so weird), as well as chasing after Sexton, whose excerpted quote is to die for:

Like carpenters they want to know which tools.
They never ask why build.

Closing off, it was also nifty to find out that the Disney version of the Sorcerer's Apprentice has more concrete origins than some artist's brain. I'm also sure that whatever other facts I've picked up (such as de Quincey's surprisingly keen observations of D. Wordsworth) will serve me well in my academic future, as well as the knowledge that Hardwick has outlived her use. While I could probably stick with her fiction, there's no telling if and how often one of her preciously tortured insane archetypes will go wandering through to make a rhetorical point, and I've enough of that in Goodreads' message boards. In any case, this is why I get the majority of my books used at paltry couple of buck prices. These results would've been harder to bear had I actually gone and spent the dough for NYRB's fancy pants edition.

[Arlian · Rating 1 out of 5]

I was very disappointed with this book. A previous reviewer quoted the introduction, and I decided to quote her review:

" 'In the introduction, Joan Didion says: "Elizabeth Hardwick is the only writer I have ever read whose perception of what it means to be a woman and a writer seems in every way authentic, revelatory, entirely original and yet acutely recognizable.' That's nice."

I wasn't sure if this reviewers "That's nice" comment was meant to be factitious or cutting, but I second her comment but infuse my tone with disdain, sarcasm, and patronization. Further, despite Joan Didion's comments, Hardwick clearly doesn't understand what it means to be a writer or a woman in many instances, as is patently clear from her book.

There is nothing new in any of these articles, even considering the fact that the book was originally published in 1974. This short book is incredibly devoid of substance. It's like a Wikipedia article that needs to be culled due to bias in the author. Elizabeth Hardwick shows an astounding lack of nuance and insight in these extremely shallow essays. For example, in the article about Ibsen she says something like "He has the hardheartedness of all people who are unable to reconcile themselves to their family." To me, this in an incredibly weird statement, some strange bias the author has and believes to be universal and deep. Her essay on Sylvia Plath shows that Hardwick has CLEARLY never struggled with depression, and doesn't understand what it means to feel numb because of it. Her essay on Zelda Fitzgerald is almost insane in it's inability to critically think about how abusive Scott Fitzgerald was to Zelda, and how the repressive culture and backwards views of mental health practitioners exacerbated her issues. Further, she directly states that Zelda is "no Scott" when it comes to her talents. This is demonstrably false, with many critics have been re-engaging with her works--both written and artistic--and have deemed her worthy as a writer and artist on her own merits. In fact, critics began discussing her work as legitimate as early as the 1950's----so Hardwick should have been aware of and at least mentioned this discourse.

Ultimately, I'm disappointed by the essays (being mere recitals of facts, except when the book falls into obvious, unsubstantiated and plain stupid bias) but more so because I mistakenly thought Elizabeth Hardwick was a feminist--and that's my own bad for assuming so. Her book CLEARLY demonstrates that she is neither a feminist, nor a strong literary critic capable of the supposed "universality" her the introduction accuses her of.

A complete failure if it is meant to be read as a serious academic book, and merely uninteresting and uninspiring when read as the petty musings of a literary critic.

[Tom · Rating 2 out of 5]

This collection of essays started off brilliantly strong, half of my copy is tracked with highlighter streaks and pencil underlines, but as it continued it lost it charm and started to become a collection of secondhanded miniature biographies.
I can certainly appreciate Hardwick's intellect and points on what writing can be and what raises characters up to living beating people, but when she begins describing and documenting living breathing people she just falls short of the real thing. It also doesn't help that she quotes biographers writing more interesting biographies...

[Pascal · Rating 4 out of 5]

Tengo que admitir que es una colección de ensayos increíble, pero siento que para poder entender las referencias o reflexiones que hay en ellos hay que tener algún tipo de conocimiento previo sobre las autoras mencionadas, como de su vida o acontecimientos importantes que hayan impactado en su escritura. Me pasó con el de Sylvia Plath, que cómo ya conozco algo sobre su vida, tengo muchísima más cercanía con lo que se está narrando sobre ella. Las reflexiones me hacen muchísimo más sentido y me dejan sin aire, ya que Hardwick ama a Sylvia, y se puede notar, se nota por cómo escribe de ella, que es con una admiración tremenda. Disfrute muchísimo tomarme mi tiempo para leerlo.

[Jan Priddy · Rating 4 out of 5]

"The problem of creating sympathy for the woman whose destiny must run the narrow road..."

Hardwick looks at perspectives and writing by and about women, always looking for how their pathway, both as people and as characters is hemmed and defined by gender. After the Brontës, this is less about how women write about their own experience, than how men write about women and how the women related by birth or marriage to writers suffer from the relationship. I am grateful she does not follow the example of so much analysis of this family by pouring over poor Brandon. It was the sisters who created art and Hardwick dispenses with the male family members without sentimentality.

I read Zelda a year or two after reading The Great Gatsby and never forgave F. Scott. Hardwick works hard to present facts without passing judgement, but it is impossible to miss that she comes down solidly on Zelda's side. The wives of writers often suffer. Women are often closed down and shut up and then blamed for their very existence. I always think of Ray Carver. I think of Wallace Stegner's almost entirely unacknowledged use of the journals of women in his works. (He does not credit anyone in Big Rock Candy Mountain though I recognized much of his plot from the diaries of women in the west, and then the wife is blamed in that novel for the failure of her husband to achieve what he might have without her. No mention of what she might have achieved without him—and of course that might have been little enough considering the opportunities for a woman in the nineteenth and early twentieth century. And then there is The Angle of Repose.)

Even so, Hardwick mostly presents facts without passing judgement. She explains class bias and speaks from within it without condemning the elitism that bends voices to assume privilege and power. There it is and nothing to be done about it a century later.

[Andrew]

Elizabeth Hardwick is a gorgeous essayist, but honestly this whole volume felt kind of pointless. There wasn't much of a coherent thesis about literary ladies, nor were the essays in and of themselves particularly interesting. I've never managed to finish a Bronte book (my problem, not Hardwick's), there's some mildly amusing goss about Virginia Woolf, she rates Sylvia Plath far higher than I think she ought to (maybe the Daddy-I-hate-you shit was revolutionary once?), the analyses of Ibsen characters are fine enough, you get the idea. Towards the end she brings up Zola's Nana, which I feel could have been a great essay, but she leaves it there. Read Sleepless Nights, it's amazing, and many of Hardwick's other essays are too, but this is forgettable.

[Anna · Rating 5 out of 5]

Hardwick writes with great eloquence and clarity and a feminist spirit. Those essays are nearly faultless and filled with awesome quotables that kept my highlighter engaged.

I wish I'd discovered Hardwick's literary criticism while close-reading Ibsen at uni. I really, really hated Ibsen then. Perhaps with Hardwick's sympathetic analysis at hand I would've had an easier time seeing through my distaste for the standards of the era which he wrote about, and seen his female characters with a bit more compassion.

Also, a reminder: this guy had 18 year old girls throwing themselves at him throughout his writing career:

[Veronica Ciastko · Rating 4 out of 5]

Hardwick is a genius literary critic, a keen social observer, a no-bullshit feminist, and a (wonderfully) snarky bitch. I learned a lot about myself and my own experience of womanhood from reading her essays on the Bronte sisters, Dorothy Wordsworth, Jane Carlyle, Zelda Fitzgerald, and Ibsen's female characters.

That said, I find Hardwick's style to be exhausting. Her essays don't seem to follow any natural, logical flow. It's like she goes from discussing the facts of Charlotte Bronte's biography, to Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights, to Emily Bronte's love life, to the social status of governesses in the 19th century, and then she's back to talking about Charlotte Bronte, without obvious threads between these topics other than that, yeah, they all kinda exist in the same milieu. But it requires the reader to hold a lot of information in their head at once and—I think because of this—the essays feel both overwritten and incomplete at once.

But I do think Hardwick is a smart cookie and I copied down a ton of her insights. And I'll definitely read her novel Sleepless Nights.

[June · Rating 2 out of 5]

Not a fan in general. But I now understand this piece in the Joan Didion Book of Common Prayer press tour/ The White Album lore. Would not recommend if you haven't read every classic ever. Like I knew to read the Ibsen's before reading the essays (which were like just summaries?), and I enjoyed some bits of the Brontes, Zelda, & Sylvia Plath essays. I am pretty sure I was spoiled for at least 7 books... I can think of Anna Karenina, Tess of the D'Ubervilles, Madame Bovary, The Scarlet Letter, and many more and even when I didn't care about the spoiler I was just like oh okay yeah I know that these books are super old but like... still frustrating for me!

(# of stories/essays read in 2025 - 146)

[Abby · Rating 4 out of 5]

In which Elizabeth Hardwick assesses easily overlooked or misunderstood literary women. The essay on the Brontës is the best. Her lines about Emily’s interior state, her savage virginity and alien sensibilities, are striking. I was also mildly chastened by her perspective on Woolf, my young adult crush, my gateway to literature, and how differently she hits when one is middle aged. Hardwick is right that no one does exquisite surfaces like Woolf; there she is peerless. But her novels are, indeed, as Hardwick says, boring. The titular essay is also interesting—a review of themes of seduction in Anglo-American novels, and how that classical plot doesn’t make sense anymore, as virtue is no longer a virtue.

[Bronwyn · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a really good collection of essays. Some I enjoyed more than others. I struggled through the Ibsen essays as I’m not familiar with his works, but the Brontes, Zelda, and Woolf were very good. The last chapter, the titular essay, was really interesting too. (So many seduced young women who, of course get pregnant from the seduction.) I’ve struggled reading other Hardwick before, but now I feel like I should give her fiction another chance.

[Irene Ramírez · Rating 3 out of 5]

Me ha parecido una lectura interesante porque hay muchísimas cosas que no conocía.
Creo que leer este libro puede servir como introducción para comprender un poco más a autoras como las hermanas Brontë, Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf… pero que no termina de profundizar en ninguna.
He notado que empieza muy arriba con aspectos super interesantes sobre las hermanas Brontë (de mis ensayos favoritos del libro) pero que luego hay otros que veo flojitos.
Los que más he disfrutado a parte del mencionado, han sido el de Zelda Fitzgerald y el de Sylvia Plath. Y sinceramente el de Las mujeres de Ibsen me ha parecido aburrido.
No lo veo un mal libro, y como manera de aprender datos curiosos, lo recomiendo

[Eleanor · Rating 3 out of 5]

I took this to Paris, because look at that title, how could I take anything else? Much of the criticism seemed outdated, at least in terms of its gender politics, but then, it was written in the ’70s, so it’d be sort of surprising if it wasn’t. The other thing I found tricky about it is that Hardwick’s particular brand of criticism doesn’t involve a lot of textual reference: she writes about the characterisation of Ibsen’s heroines – the terrifyingly empty and amoral Hedda Gabler, for instance, or the somehow untouchably free Nora in A Doll’s House – while rarely making reference to anything they say. The same is true, to a large extent, of the Bronte sisters, who are the subject of the first essay, and of the women both real and fictional whom she discusses in the title essay (including Anna Karenina and Richardson’s Clarissa). Still worth reading for the declarative power of her sentences, and for the essay on Sylvia Plath alone.

[Virginia · Rating 4 out of 5]

Si algo tienen en común las escritoras protagonistas de esta recopilación de ensayos (Zelda Fitzgerald, Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf o Jane Carlyle) es su indiscutible talento, su rico mundo interior, su inteligencia y curiosidad y un peculiar don creativo mezclado con traumas del pasado y problemas de salud mental provocados por diferentes cuestiones.

Lo que hace, y además muy bien, Elizabeth Hardwick en estos ensayos no es solo establecer este paralelismo entre estas fascinantes mujeres sino mostrarnos cómo su vida y, particularmente, su obra estuvo influida por el sistema patriarcal imperante de las épocas en las que vivieron.

De esta forma, Zelda fue menospreciada por F. S. Fitzgerald, que "robó" algunas de sus ideas y escritos para sus propios libros y nunca pudo publicar a pesar de su talento. "Las historias escritas por Zelda sola o por los dos eran a veces firmados por su marido por razones comerciales."

Sylvia Plath, ante la falta de atención total de su padre y su marido, Ted Hughes (que también llegó a menospreciarla y engañarla), al sentirse traicionada y abandonada, pudo expresar su rabia a través de sus poemas, publicados y alabados por la crítica.

Virginia Woolf también vivió un contexto de supremacía masculina y su obra así lo refleja, con personajes como la señora Dalloway o la señora Ramsay, que sufrieron las consecuencias de ello. Y Jane Carlyle fue una escritora que renunció a sus inquietudes intelectuales por cuidar de su marido (que era lo que se esperaba de ella) y ser después ignorada. Y, a pesar de ello, consiguió mostrar su talento, además una enorme fortaleza y sentido del humor, en sus cartas.

En estos casos, ¿qué hubiera ocurrido si, en las sociedades en las que vivieron, la mujer hubiera sido igual al hombre? Estos ensayos tocan muchos más temas y clásicos literarios, además de autoras, pero quería destacar este porque es muy interesante.

Estas autoras necesitan ser leídas y estudiadas no solo por su genialidad sino por haber podido desarrollarla, en mayor o menor medida, en un contexto hostil y cruel, de desigualdad hacia la mujer por el mero hecho de serlo.

[Jeff Jackson · Rating 4 out of 5]

Brilliantly etched prose and observations. Highlight essays: Brontes, Ibsen's women, Sylvia Plath, Dorothy Wordsworth.

[Karis Mooney · Rating 1 out of 5]

I thought this book was going to be feminist literary analysis, even the reviews on the cover speak of it as an in depth look at women writing and women in writing. Reader, it did nothing of the sort!
It was 200 pages of internalised misogyny. There’s no real analysis or concrete opinion, the whole thing lacks, it starts but goes no where- it’s surface. Her writing is in constant contradiction with itself, littered with stereotypes and an enforced gender binary which she imposes onto every characteristic. The writing is heartless, narrow-minded and apathetic. Her writing is reductive and deterministic.
There’s real criticism of men as writers or as characters. No analysis or attempt at explanation beyond men will be men and women should know that. Men and their dangers, entitlement, cruelty, misogyny, passion, indifference and hate, are accepted and even expected, she literally writes “naturally” and “as he must” before detailing some truly heinous acts. Hardwick is completely opposite in her treatment of women, they are constantly blamed and at fault- “she is a victim? Of what?” She places women in a hierarchy, with hyperbole and superlatives pouring out of her descriptions and there’s no attempt towards sympathy or understanding in her writing of women.
She sees them as women FIRST and people after. She never seeks to understand them as people, simply additions to men as if women live within the silhouette of the ‘good, quiet, little wife.’

[Els · Rating 3 out of 5]

Verleiding en verraad. Vrouwen en literatuur. Door: Elizabeth Hardwick.

Een aanbeveling van Susan Sontag op de cover én een voorwoord van Deborah Levy: mooier wordt het niet.

Vrouwen en literatuur, vrouwen in de literatuur; een paar van mijn favoriete onderwerpen. In tijden van #fixditnu is dit boek een heus geschenk, ideale timing. Voor mij was de timing helemaal perfect omdat ik net Pose van Basje Boer uit heb (over hoe we kijken en de rollen die we spelen).

Boers referentiekader past wel iets beter bij dat van mij. Ik las Verleiding en verraad vooral voor de stukken over Sylvia Plath en Virginia Woolf. De Ibsen-vrouwen bijvoorbeeld ken ik enkel omdat ze zo veelvuldig voorkomen in het werk van John Irving. Waar Deborhah Levy en ik fan zijn van Woolf, haar werk én haar leven (binnen de Bloomsburrygroep) is Hardwick duidelijk enkel fan van haar werk.

Dat maakt dit boek ook zo boeiend, ik ben het niet altijd met haar eens maar ze weet wel waarover ze schrijft. Haar schrijven verteld vaak meer over haarzelf dan over de besproken vrouwen. Deze bundeling is dus boeiend voor fans van Plath, Woolf, de gezusters Brönte én Elizabeth Hardwick herself. Het is ook een mustread voor iedereen met een boon voor vrouwen en/in de literatuur.

[Dana Para · Rating 4 out of 5]

Seduction and Betrayal" by Elizabeth Hardwick is a collection of essays exploring women's roles in literature and society, from the Bronte sisters to Virginia Woolf. Hardwick's insightful analysis of female writers and characters delves into the complexities of gender roles, relationships, and power dynamics between men and women. Her prose is elegant (although it felt a bit contorted), and her observations are incisive. This is a good read for anyone interested in feminist literary criticism and the impact of female writers throughout history.

[Daniel Polansky]

Essays about lady writers and ladies who knew writers. I can’t remember a fucking thing about this book, usually not a great sign, but then again I’ve been reading a lot of literary criticism the last few weeks so it might be that they’re running together.

[Eleanore · Rating 4 out of 5]

‘Biology is destiny only for girls.’

[Svitani · Rating 1 out of 5]

¿Pero qué me está contando esta señora?

[Anastasiia Mozghova · Rating 4 out of 5]

some of the essays - the ones about Plath, Woolf, Fitzgerald - are eye-opening and magnificent, while others are just somewhere way too far which is a description I am unable to explain further.

[Florina · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brilliant and arresting writing; every sentence was a wonder. Hardwick is an accomplished prose stylist but she is also wonderfully insightful and clever, always getting at the uncomfortable, staggeringly complex core of an idea.

[tiya! · Rating 4 out of 5]

interesting essays!! i also loved the foreword - four stars.

[yg · Rating 5 out of 5]

one of my bibles

[Lone · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is an odd one, because I'm interested in just about everything Hardwich writes about in this essay-collection. I don't even demand much, in reading about subjects I love and know well, I'm fine with disagreeing with the author, I don't really mind some misktakes, but this book annoyed me so much I twice had to put it aside for several days to allow my irritation to wear off. Some of these essays are beautifully crafted and insightful, others are painful to read, engaging with their subjects only at a superficial level, but what grates even more are the many, many sentences that seem purpose-built to meander into nothingness.

I will be discussing this in the feminist book club I go to soon, and I hope for the sake of everyone I'll have calmed down enough not to be constantly reading out sentences, shouting WHAT DOES IT MEAN? DOES IT MEAN ANYTHING AT ALL?

[Saadullah · Rating 5 out of 5]

literary criticism peppered with short, memorably cutting sentences. the first chapter on the bronte sisters is a must-read for anyone who loves any of the bronte sister novels!

[Tracie · Rating 5 out of 5]

I seldom read essays as fiction is my thing, however, I loved Seduction and Betrayal. This could be due to Hardwick's perspective on the Brontes, Woolf, and Plath, and the new information I picked up on writers I've been studying for years. She also takes a deep dive into the male portrayal of women and how seduction, when one doesn't want to be seduced, has been the ruin or death of many a female protagonist.