of an ideology. As a result, he wound up playing with his own ideas and then attempting to justify his writing career by playing with that too. There was probably something of the con-man in the Callaghan who wanted to be a big league player, but Boire gently sidesteps that side of the man and concentrates on the facts of his life. He does use words like “contrarian” and “gadflyish” to describe Callaghan (102), but in the context he provides, words such as those are tinged more with affection than judgment. What else can one do in such a short study? In the final analysis, both books do what they set out to do — provide some basic information for students while offering a glimpse of the personality behind the writings. More elaborate treatments will have to wait until the dust settles. Given more time, real myth-making will begin. j o h n o r a n g e / King’s College, University of Western Ontario Isobel Grundy, ed., Secresy; or, The Ruin on the Rock, by Eliza Fenwick (Peterborough, Ontario: Broadview Press, 1994). 359. $15.95 paper. D.L. Macdonald and Kathleen Scherf, eds., Frankenstein; or, the Modern Prometheus, by Mary Shelley (Peterborough, Ontario: Broadview Press, 1994). 371. $11.95 paper. David Oakleaf, ed., Love in Excess; or, the Fatal Enquiry, by Eliza Haywood (Peterborough, Ontario: Broadview Press, 1994). 297. $14.95 paper. Eleanor Ty, ed., The Victim of Prejudice, by Mary Hays (Peterborough, Ontario: Broadview Press, 1994). 197. $29.95 paper. Considered together, these four well-conceived and well-executed editions comprise a useful cross-section of the radical stuff of women’s social, intel lectual, and psychological preoccupations over a century. Three are reprints that the editors introduce with scrupulous attention to biographical, histor ical, and theoretical issues; the fourth is a superlative presentation of Mary Shelley’s 1818 edition. All the editors situate the novels within a distinctively feminist tradition. Each fiction provokes abundant analysis of rhetorical and schematic representations that communicate a desire for agency. Haywood’s Love in Excess; or, the Fatal Enquiry (1719-1720) posits the blamelessness of female eroticism, whereas Fenwick’s Secresy; or, The Ruin on the Rock (1795) and Hays’s The Victim of Prejudice (1799) politicize women’s sexuality while implying its range and creative potential. Shelley’s Frankenstein; or, the Modern Prometheus relegates women to the status 488 of domestic icons and displaces feminine struggle onto the monster. His creation, life, and death quarrel with the nineteenth-century suppression of female desire. This transference leads to speculation about the roads not taken — what might have been were it not for the closing down of emanci patory consciousness and the dwindling of feminist writers like Fenwick into drudgery and obscurity or Hays into ignominy. It would seem, however, that the tiresome necessity remains of defending the project of uncovering, contextualizing, and theorizing eighteenth-century women’s texts. Terry Castle, in her review of Secresy (“Sublimely Bad,” London Review of Books, 23 February 1995, 18-19), sees Grundy’s and, by implication, Broadview Press’s series, as a misguided exaltation of medi ocrity. Although Castle gestures toward the literary historical value of reading a literature of women’s own, she would relegate this pursuit to ultra-sophisticated hecklers and thorough specialists. Castle pathologizes eighteenth-century women writers as thwarted creatures, undone and de formed by their enslavement to the rule of the father. The drearily familiar diagnosis of the period’s literary woman as female impotent, writer manquée, what you will, leaves no room to examine women resisting and exploring, in whatever language available to them, material as well as psychological restraints on liberty. Castle’s cavilling typifies postmaterialist, postfeminist discourse, according to which the best books are those that seem freest of political struggles. Broadview Press’s four editions deserve more serious consideration of the complexity, plangency, and self-awareness of women’s radical consciousness. Eliza Haywood’s Love in Excess; or, the Fatal Enquiry, which David Oakleaf elucidates as a composite of genres, dramatizes on one level the education of the sexually irresistible hero. Count D’elmont contends with, and learns to feel compassion for, the...