At last weekend's edition of the New York Sun, in a review of Clive James' new book:
As Mr. James shows in this essay, a real intellectual is secure enough not to be worried about the height of his brow. Mr. James's principled eclecticism comes out in an essay on G.K. Chesterton, which, true to form, is really an essay about high and pop culture, provoked by Chesterton's definition of the critic's role: "To set a measure to praise and blame, and to support the classics against the fashions."
(I'm scheduled for minor surgery tomorrow, so I'm posting this early and changing the time stamp. Hope nobody freaks out and thinks all of Tuesday suddenly slipped away.)