I loved the way The Blazing World used diary entries, statements, and critiques to illustrate the idea that everyone comes to art with a different perspective. In a sense, none of us sees the same thing. This also makes me self-conscious writing a review of the novel because I know how limited my view is and that the creator of the art (the author, in this case) could wave away my critique by arguing that I just didn't "get it". In theory, it should not matter if I liked the main character Harriet or not. In reality, if I don't respect the subject around whom the novel revolves it does affect my enjoyment, biased or not. 
 My problem with Harriet is that as concerned as she is with women's subjugation to men (in art and in the domestic sphere) she does nothing to improve her situation or that of women in general. She just gets angry...very angry and then rather than channel that energy into fighting the "machista" stance that only men create great art, she has men present her art as theirs. What's more, what she discovers is that it is not the fact that her art gets displayed and enjoyed that matters to her but whether she gets the fame and the accolades. 
 In the same way, she fumes about the affairs her husband had. 'He just wanted his babies' she says, she complains about the parties where he shines and she serves as the supportive wife. Yet (like her mother with her father) she never confronts her husband and though they bicker it doesn't sound like she ever considered leaving. Nowhere in her diary does she mention that the money that Felix makes allows her to pursue her art, and her philosophy reading - does she not want to admit this? She is quite a beneficiary of the dirty male art money she purports to hate. 
 Why is it necessary for her that people know the extent of her intellectual reach? Why does she feel she must correct people when they get a reference wrong? Why does she have to hear people say she is brilliant? On the flip side, why does she purposely hide intellectual citations in her art and then laugh when people miss them? I'd say that's an ugly personal mix of vanity and insecurity driven by a frustration I'm happy to say I can't relate to. So I liked it, I respected the novel, but because of the format and the footnotes and my feelings for Harriet I felt held at a remove.