Harold Bloom Draws a Blank at Peirce

While not the most copious reader, I have delved into the works of Harold Bloom. When I became interested in Charles Sanders Peirce, finding in him a philosopher well beyond the ken of Nietzsche, which is saying a good deal, I naturally assumed that Bloom, who picks the celebrated from the tree of  literary fruition, would understand that Peirce had trumped and advanced virtually everything that Bloom thinks, period. But a perusal of Bloom's indexes reveals not one reference to Peirce. I am among those who counts Peirce to be a writer of no mean ability. And a philosopher whose integrative approach, with its stupendous accents, must humble virtually every celebrated representative of every field of knowledge upon the globe. Actually, if you look at my sidebar for the Peirce note, you will see why Bloom missed the boat. Most everyone else has as well. Because the Feibleman book, introduced by Bertrand Russell, has long been out of print and MIT has no apparent attention of re-releasing it. And all we have is Brandt's moralistic and overall censorious biography of Peirce written some time ago. Sad for us. Sad for Bloom. Yet Peirce prevails. This is his world, no longer Shakespeare's alone. 
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