Anthony Trollope spends so much time doing the things that well-meaning creative writing profesors now tell one never to do--his editorial voice peppers each novel, he avoids subtle foreshadowing in favor of telling you essentially what will happen next, and he consistently drives plot towards a theme. Yet Trollope, a consummate Victorian, seems intrinsically modern whereas many more "literarily correct" modern humorists grow antique in a week or less. The secret, of course, is character, an eye and an ear for class distinctions, and a skewering wit combined with tremendous fellow-feeling for the foibles of his characters. Miss MacKenzie contains much of Trollope at his best--the title character is a beautifully observed genteel poor spinster-to-be suddenly visited with the misfortune of fortune. The author assiduously exposes flaw after flaw in Miss MacKenzie and her social milieu, and yet we like her better for the harsh light. In this world of tremendous unkindness, it is nice to remember that one can be honest without being brutal. Trollope, a writer of genial works of whimsy, brings the quiet honesty of literary fiction home safely here.