Had Quasimodo lived his life in a dark, mirrorless sanctuary there's a good chance he'd have considered him self the Paul Newman of Notre-Dame. But, alas, it was not to be. In that spirit, we emerge once again this week, a self-assured Rock Hudson of literary criticism only to find ourselves surrounded by an internet of veritable Steve McQueens. (This is an extended metaphor about how other sites also do good work and the following are examples of that)