In his sympathetic portrait of a young man, standing unhappily on the edge of cultural life in London early in this century, E. M. Forster, in his novel, Howard's End, describes him as being "familiar with the outsides of books." Part of this young man's discontent came from his feeling that he was only lightly dusted with the qualities which an active appreciation of the arts is said to bring; he also felt deprived, by upbringing and social circumstances, of entry into the brilliant intellectual society to which he aspired. Today, he might have acquired a more extensive, but still superficial, knowledge of literature by reading much of the presentation of books and authors in the mass communication media. Or he might have actually handled the substance of books, if only in part, by reading anthologies like The Good Physician, by Mr. Davenport. A well-compiled anthology such as this has