The editors of a new anthology of women’s writing have criticised the general lack of ambition shown by female authors. They have accused them of being ‘disappointingly domestic, the opposite of risk-taking’. Female authors have countered, pointing out that Tolstoy’s novels were domestic and that defining domestic as dull is wrong. We understand what they’re saying, but there are novels that, whilst being located in a domestic setting, take on a larger significance; pack a bigger punch. The Great Gatsby for instance. It ain’t Mills and Boon, but it’s a love story nevertheless!

In fact, these comments seem to echo general criticisms made of British fiction during the 20th century, when compared unfavourably to the American novel. That we don’t do ‘big’. Maybe it is something to do with Britain’s decline as a major world power. (Yes, it’s true apparently) It’s probably not a coincidence that it was during the 19th century when the British novel was king. When we were at the forefront of world change. Dickens and Gaskell were writing about big issues set in the dawning of the industrial age. Now, perhaps our concerns seem more parochial. I mean, who outside of Britain would want to read a blog about what goes on in dear old Blighty? Hm…