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[Sydney Smith (1771-1845) was an Anglican clergyman and a founder and contributor to the influential nineteenth century British magazine, the Edinburgh Review. He was famous in his day as a wit, humourist and all-round entertainer. The following passage is from his review of Thomas Henry Lister’s novel Granby.]

The main question as to a novel is—did it amuse? were you surprised at dinner coming so soon? did you mistake eleven for ten? and twelve for eleven? were you too late to dress? and did you sit up beyond the usual hour? If a novel produces these effects, it is good; if it does not—story, language, love, scandal itself cannot save it. It is only meant to please; and it must do that or it does nothing. Now Granby seems to us to answer this test extremely well; it produces unpunctuality, makes the reader too late for dinner, impatient of contradiction, and inattentive—even if a bishop is making an observation, or a gentleman, lately from the Pyramids or the Upper Cataracts, is let loose upon the drawing-room.

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