Personal Ads of the Literati

A look at the personal ads section of the London Review of Books:

After so much high-minded prose it’s a bit like peeking under high table and seeing that the dean and dons are wearing suspenders. Instead of dreary, acronym-filled attempts to impress with physical perfection or accommodating personalities, the ads are a riot of exuberant wit, messy emotion, lacerating self-knowledge and thwarted lust. Some plump for self-pity: “Monocled, plaid-festooned gadabout, out of place in any relationship, or century. Please help me . . . ”, writes a man who is “possibly your embarrassing uncle, 51”. Some choose whimsy: “Unemployable choreographer and amateur harpist (M, 62) seeks recovering alcoholic with feeble mind. Own tap shoes an advantage.”

Off the shelf