I first heard of Henry Green in Carmela Ciuraru's fantastic Nom de Plume: A (Secret) History of Pseudonyms. When I found a couple of books by this "writer's writer" at a thrift, I picked them up. Blindness, not one of his more heralded works, perhaps because it was his first (written in 1926), was a puzzling little thing; nothing much happens, and though it wasn't what I would call bad -- I quite liked parts of it -- I wasn't in the ecstasies that others seem to be driven to. I'll have to try out Loving, or Living, or Party Going, and see what I think of those.
henry green