Britain's only significant post-modern writer. A national treasure, scandalously neglected in her own country.

Ivy Compton-Burnett's first novel, Dolores, was a sprawling and sentimental romance. She was deeply ashamed of it. In Pastors and Masters we see her own distinctive style first launched, laconic, ironic and understated. The story is set in a private school and contains the usual mixture of upper middle class misfits. It is a style that demands close reading. But it makes you laugh out loud on trains and planes.

Compton-Burnett's artificial prose style takes some getting used to, but her sublime brand of comedy is a rare treat. Characterization is really not the author's forte, but her descriptions of social and familial interaction are packed with blinding flashes of insight.

An interesting novel about the inhabitants of a large Victorian household. It features a pair of over-bearing parents who are dominiating this mysterious home's occupants. The conversations revolve around the makings of successful marriages. It is significant that the white males of the story are always attempting to boss the women around, as if they had no choices to make in any matters at all. An extraordinary work by a feminist novelist of genius.

I'm beginning to become addicted to these little neglected treasures that the NYRB Press is reissuing. Not only are the editions themselves little marvels (with beautiful and well-chosen color covers and gorgeous paper stock), but whoever is making the choices for which books are reissued has near-infallible taste.

A HOUSE AND ITS HEAD, like so many of Ivy Compton-Burnett's novels, reads something like a modern updating of a Greek tragedy: most of the novel is told through dialogue, there is a kind of chorus that comments on the action of the principal characters, and the plot involves murder, incest, and familial cruelty. Yet for all these borrowings Compton-Burnett paradoxically remains wonderfully sui generis: no one else has ever mastered her capability for evoking such extreme subtlety in manners that the merest cruel nuances can become evoked (if one reads carefully enough). She is also a master plotter: just when you think you've caught up with the characters' schemes, she allows the other characters in the novel to make similar realizations, and then jumps even further ahead. This is a real page-turner as well as a subtle commentary on Edwardian manners and moral monstrousness.

No one writes novels quite like Ivy Compton-Burnett: they're really more like novelized plays than anything else, and as Diane Johnson notes in her extremely intelligent foreword to this edition, Compton-Burnett's antecedents are more with Oscar Wilde than anyone else, in her love of savage epigrams and wordplay. her novels are almost impossibly stylized: almost all her characters speak in the same style, so small children and uneducated coooks speak with the same level of sophistication as wealthy educated homeowners. Still, for all of its artificiality, you'd be hardpressed to beat MANSERVANT AND MAIDSERVANT as a superior exercise in style. Compton-Burnett's witty and troubling vision of the effect of a wicked Victorian paterfamilias's repentance is exceptionally striking and thought-provoking, and though this novel is not quite up to the level of A HOUSE AND ITS HEAD (also recently reissued by NYRB Press in a stunning paperback edition), it is one of her best works nonetheless.