This one is more an archetype than a man, but my recent viewing of Desperate Romantics has renewed a dormant enthusiasm for the Victorian cad, or rake, or generally sketchy geezer. I have loved these demons in brocade weskits from childhood - given the choice between Adonis-like hero and melodrama baronet, I would always root for the latter.
Now I am longing to write a novel featuring such a man. A Rawdon Crawley, a Francis Levison, a Sir Despard Murgatroyd. Ooh, that would be so exciting.
I was delighted that last week's DR was full of gratuitous lingering shots of Rossetti's naked torso. They've put their finger on his star appeal, haven't they?
ReplyDeleteHad to re-watch that episode on iPlayer. Because it was full of informative commentary on Pre-Raphaelite art, obv ;).
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