A virtue of these diaries is their record of Wilson???s encounters with what would prove to be the last group of writers still on easy terms with the language and culture of the last century, the century in which Wilson himself was rooted: such writers as Max Beerbohm, E.M. Forster, Cyril Connolly, W.H. Auden, and Vladimir Nabokov. But for all the care that Wilson has taken with his often biting p