The Cathedral by Hugh Walpole — Read

I must have been thirteen or fourteen years of age -- it may have been indeed in this very year '97 -- when I first read Stevenson's story of _Treasure Island_. It is the fashion, I believe, now with the Clever Solemn Ones to despise Stevenson as a writer of romantic Tushery,

All the same, if it's realism they want I'm still waiting to see something more realistic than Pew or Long John Silver. Realism may depend as truly on a blind man's tap with his stick upon the ground as on any number of adulteries.