Berkeley Square Gin with Nancy Mitford

Berkeley Square gin is another Joanne Moore creation (she's behind some great gins, though this one could maybe have been better marketed). I didn't try it until we stopped stocking it (it was reduced to clear and I love a bargain) if I'd known how good it was I'd have bought more.

Marketed as a gentleman's gin (Bloom is the feminine equivalent from the same stable) and inspired by the herbs in an English garden, what we get is a lovely fresh gin which explores the herbaceous notes of the traditional gin flavour profile. Which is precisely what makes Joanne Moore's gins so exciting - I love the way she takes an element that is in itself perfectly conventional within the gin flavour spectrum and then expands upon it. The result is something intriguingly different but still a traditional gin.

The idea of marketing gin by gender doesn't appeal to me at all - and perhaps explains why Berkeley Square wasn't as popular with our customers as it might have been. Bloom (which does have a particularly pretty bottle) does better, but Opihr has been a much bigger hit, and Thomas Dakin looks set to do better as well (they're all out if the same stable).

It's a shame because it really is a good gin, the sort that works in its own over ice, makes a really decent gin and tonic, and shines in cocktails (Gin foundry suggest something called The Last Word, sadly it involves Chartreuse which I really don't like, but I might give it a go anyway. Details Here).

The tag line 'effortlessly superior' and the Mayfair styling remind me of irrisistably of Nancy Mitford with her U and non U snobbery (which I've always assumed is a bit tongue in cheek - but then I guess the gin marketing is too). These days I like Mitford in small doses, I find she can be hard to take in any quantity - but sometimes nothing else will do.

Christmas Pudding - Nancy Mitford

This was a Christmas present and completes my Mitford collection (though I still hanker after the complete Penguin edition) and is the last of my Christmas-y reading for a while. It's almost a month since I actually read this book (whilst on holiday) when I took copious notes of my opinions and doubtless brilliant insights. Unfortunately I've no idea what happened to my notebook. I had it a week or two back but there have been guests and entertaining since then and in a mismanaged attempt to look tidy and organised I've lost god knows what useful things (the hot water bottle stopper with a working seal has also disappeared and it's quite likely that I won't be able to put my hand to my cheque book for a while). I'm sure it'll turn up one day (hopefully with a missing necklace and my scattered wits).

Meanwhile it seemed like a good idea to write about this book before I forgot all about it. 'Christmas Pudding' was a bit of a revelation at a point where I'd begun to think of Mitford as decidedly over rated and over exposed. It's not that I particularly disapprove of the Mitford industry - we all have to make a living and they're an interesting family albeit mostly in terms of the people they knew - but Nancy wasn't really a prolific writer of books (8 fiction, 4 non fiction?) and her legacy is one of decidedly mixed quality. 'Highland Fling' is never better than average (although still amusing and it was her first novel so allowances can be made) 'Wigs on The Green' is mostly a curiosity, well worth reading, but butchered by Nancy in a failed attempt to placate her fascist sisters. Seeing as that didn't work it's a shame she never let rip with all her original intentions - that would have been a book to seek out. 'Pigeon Pie' is another curiosity with lots to enjoy in it but again - distinctly average.

'Christmas Pudding' is in another class, it was Nancy's second book and has a touch of magic to it. The story is a romp with romance shot through with a hint of bitterness - nobody makes bitter as funny as Nancy can. She's also talking about a world she knew; bright young things in London, and the landed gentry in the Cotswold's. The existence she describes is terrifying; the central characters -Sally and Walter Monteath have just produced a daughter (which seems somewhat feckless as they have not a bean to live on) fortunately baby Elspeth's christening gifts ought to bring in a few bob once they're hocked. They live hand to mouth cadging off richer friends with seemingly no thought for the future - the embodiment of the bright young thing - but Mitford throws in an odd little New Year's day scene where everyone sits around hungover to the eyeballs and looking every minute of there age, she's well aware that the party will end. 

There are other wonderful creations; Paul Fotheringay the misunderstood writer whose tragic masterpiece has been hailed as the comic tour de force of the season and Bobby Bobbin - the boy. The boy is a creature, or perhaps a force of nature that has all but vanished (I hope he still exists within the enclosure of a few select private schools) teenagers are not the same at all. Bobby is wonderfully unlikely to the modern eye but is such a popular type in fiction that he must have existed...

This isn't quite Mitford at her mature best - not much Mitford is - but it's really very enjoyable and I highly recommend it. It's a good thing that Capuchin and Penguin have done re releasing these titles .

The Sun King – Nancy Mitford

My introduction to Nancy Mitford came in the form of an omnibus edition containing ‘Love in a Cold Climate’, ‘The Pursuit of Love’, ‘The Blessing’ and ‘Don’t Tell Alfred’ (though possibly not in that order). Her blend of funny and elitist seemed desperately sophisticated to my younger self and though I haven’t read them for a long time I imagine I’d still enjoy those books given that I had fun with ‘Wigs on the Green’, ‘Pigeon Pie’, and ‘Highland Fling’.

Nonfiction is a different kettle of fish so despite knowing about the four biographies that Mitford wrote I’ve never felt that tempted by them. However someone at Vintage very kindly offered me some of their re-prints and I couldn’t say no and having said yes had to start reading. So far I’ve tackled ‘The Sun King’ and as members of my online book group already know I struggled with it a bit. It didn’t help that I came to it straight after my Georgette Heyer binge (it occurs to me that in a Heyer book Mitford would be a villainess). As a biographer Kloester is quite discreet and very thorough. Mitford is neither, nor is she much of an historian, or balanced, or impartial.

She’s also a confirmed Francophile which I am not to the point that people who are really annoy me – I mean France is okay and everything but my experience of it does not lead me to believe it’s an earthly paradise, and furthermore several of their winemakers are lax in the matter of bar codes which marred my working life for a decade. However once I’d got past all that the book began to grow on me. What Mitford seems to have done is trawl through the history cherry picking all the juiciest scandals (poisoning, witchcraft, Devil worship, secret marriages, infidelity, and so on) and through it altogether with her personal take on the characters involved. She liked the Sun King (although inexplicably she spends almost a page discussing his appearance with reference to how exotic/Jewish it was which feels shockingly inappropriate in a post war book.  

She approved of Mme de Montespan despite her dabbling in the black arts, but I don’t think she found Mme Maintenon (a later mistress, possibly wife) as attractive – there are certainly no attempts to defend her less appealing characteristics as there are with Mme De Montespan’s. Now that I’ve got used to Mitford’s tone I’m quite happy to read on and find what she has to say about Frederick the Great, Voltaire, and Madame de Pompadour and can recommend ‘The Sun King’ in all its gossiping, bitchy, partisan glory (with some reservations – this isn’t for the faint hearted, easily offended, or the liberal – I would no longer invite Mitford to my fantasy dinner party). 

Highland Fling – Nancy Mitford

A book which I’ve just this moment finished (1 down, 39 to go). Reprinted by Capuchin Classics at the beginning of July it’s been something of a struggle to get hold of, the only place I’ve actually seen it for sale is in the wonderful Bakewell bookshop, (though if you couldn’t buy a Mitford book that close to Chatsworth it would be a pretty poor show) but by that time I’d finally managed to order it via amazon after it being persistently out of stock for about a month.

Either way my persistence paid off and I couldn’t help but start this book almost the moment I got it. It’s not a long book and for all its faults it’s an absorbing read, all in it probably only took 3 or 4 hours to get through and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Which is another reason for the slight feeling of resentment I’m harbouring over how hard the darn thing was to get hold of, it just shouldn’t be this difficult. ‘Highland Fling’ has been on my book radar for a good 3 years (since I first noticed it on Capuchin’s list). I’m hardly the only Mitford fan out there, and unlikely to be the only one who doesn’t feel her bank balance can take the unexpected withdrawals that pre orders result in. Is it really unreasonable to hope to find books like this in bookshops? Apparently it is in Leicester. (And here ends my complaint for tonight.)

Back to the book, which I’m inclined to see as a bit of a coup for Capuchin, especially after ‘Wigs on the Green’ (summarizing my opinion thus – interesting period piece with a few good jokes and rather more bad ones. Appealing to fans, but not the finest indicator of what Nancy Mitford’s like at her best!) and ‘The Water Beetle’ (very mixed essays) I had quite low expectations. Happily ‘Highland Fling’ totally exceeded said expectations, true the plot is almost nonexistent and the quality of the writing patchy, but there are brilliant pen portraits which must have been taken from life, and a really good sense of a clash of cultures between the county set and the bright young things.

This I think is the key to why ‘Highland Fling’ is more than the curiosity that ‘Wigs on the Green’ is. Fling was the first novel that Mitford had published and was written whilst she was still in her 20’s (it says in the introduction) so the lack of polish is easy to overlook, it feels like, and possibly was an attempt to make some money, but it also has all the authentic Mitford hallmarks – wit, wisdom and some very cutting observations. The central characters are Sally and Walter Monteath, a young couple who sit on the fence between county respectability and the bright young things. As much as Evelyn Waugh’s ‘Vile Bodies’ this gives a feel for that group, though I suspect Mitford was rather more of an insider, especially class wise than Waugh ever was.

She captures the boredom and pointlessness of country house parties dedicated to killing as much game as possible (whilst possibly bagging a suitable husband) along with the frantic but essentially just as pointless round of cocktails and practical jokes of the younger set. More than that though she also explores what separates the generations. The younger set are basically pacifists – genuinely revolted by the waste of the war they missed (though destined to fight in the next one) the ‘Grown ups’ incapable and unwilling to question the values they have always live by. One character (the sympathetic Mr Buggins) sits between, he fought in the trenches and in a nice little speech quietly and convincingly tells how those 4 years robbed him of his ability to be useful or productive. There are other episodes like this which not only stand out but more than stand the test of time. The bright young things seem like children, but it’s clear that they will for the most part outgrow their childishness, it’s also clear that Mitford believes there are more dangerous faults than a penchant for silly pranks and living on credit.

Just a couple more books...

Book buying has been a bit of a theme over the last few weeks, and something of an obsession over the last few days. The blonde took me up to her ancestral home in the very lovely peak district, we basically trawled the local book and charity shops in the manner of women on a mission (which we were) and came home with roughly 10 books apiece. Long story (involving charity shops, amazon, Waterstones 3 for 2, some very kind publishers, and a few independents) short I’ve managed to acquire a slightly daunting 40 odd new books in the last month. Some of them are real doorstoppers as well.

Just to be clear (mum and dad) I can still pay the mortgage, Derbyshire seems to be the home of the book bargain and I haven’t actually been all that extravagant, quite extravagant, but manageably so, at least in terms of money spent. I think I might have been very extravagant indeed in terms of the sheer amount of text I can reasonably expect to read (The Count of Monte Christo – I’m looking at you...) before the next very exciting crop of books start whispering to me. But then there’s nothing new about that.

There are a couple of books I want to keep quiet about until I’ve read, and some I got because they caught my eye, or because they were too good to leave behind but know I won’t read for a long time (again ‘The Count of Monte Christo’), so I won’t exhaustively describe every book I’ve acquired right now (although it’s tempting, but I think I’m the only one that would find it really interesting). However there are a few I’m just too excited about not to share!

From amazon there’s John Wright’s ‘Hedgerow’ – I’ve been so excited about this book coming out, it really is my most looked forward to title of the year and it hasn’t disappointed me, (there will be more to come about this one). For reasons I can’t fathom it’s proved impossible to buy on the high street, but anticipation only made its eventual arrival more exciting and my reluctance to be parted with it in the last week has become a bit of a running joke with the blonde.

Also via amazon E F Benson’s ‘Mrs Ames’, again no sign of this in any actual bookshops which is a shame because it’s a terrific book, and Ali Smith’s ‘Girl Meets Boy’. These are both books that have been hovering on my wish list for a while and I’m very pleased to have them. I’m also very pleased to have Nancy Mitford’s ‘Highland Fling’ which I’ve patiently waited for Capuchin to publish since 2007, ordered from amazon but actually spotted in The Bakewell Bookshop. (This is a fantastic bookshop – easily one of the best I’ve ever found anywhere, ever!)

Oxford World Classics very kindly sent me Wilkie Collins ‘The Dead Secret’ and ‘Man and Wife’ – I’m really looking forward to these and wondering about the wisdom of drawing up a reading timetable in the manner of those revision timetables which I ignored at school. Hmmm. Some organisation is clearly called for, any suggestions?

‘Mildred Pierce’ and ‘In Tearing Haste’ came from Brierlow Bar (another excellent bookshop, this time the bargain sort) I love the film and the book was recommended to me here a couple of weeks ago. My brand spanking new copy was half the price a used amazon one threatened to be, so yet again I’m very happy with this. ‘In Tearing Haste’ is one of those books that I’ve fancied for a while and which became irresistible at £3.99. It seemed possible that it might just join the rest of my collection of unread Mitford letters, but I’ve been reading bits of it and I’m finding it compulsive.

I collect Virago modern classics in a mild way (as does the blonde). It’s not a really dedicated collection - I only get ones that specifically appeal, but I’m getting tantalisingly close to the 200 mark. Nice green copies are getting increasingly hard to find (I’m up to date with the new covers/titles) so there’s always the thrill of the hunt involved in hitting on something new, or something that either of us have been after for a while. Edith Bagnold’s ‘The Loved and Envied’ was new to me and Mae West’s ‘She Done Him Wrong’ is one I’ve wanted for ages...

So – I’m not planning on buying anything for a while, and I think I’ll be staying in a lot to catch up on some reading over the next few months anyway – which will take the sting out of the lousy weather. But should the sun shine I’ll be out complete with my ‘Hedgerow’ book on a foraging mission, though I know the squirrels have already beaten me to every hazelnut within the city limits.

The Water Beetle – Nancy Mitford

Nancy Mitford fascinates me, (and a whole lot of other people obviously) at her best she (and her sisters) cast a spell of glamour, wit, and scandal which pretty much reduces me to a schoolgirl crush. At her worst she seems a ridiculous snob but I’m not sure that that doesn’t add to the glamour as well. In real life I don’t care for nicknames and find myself struggling to use them, I avoid wherever possible social circles as incestuously involved as Mitford’s clearly was, yet she makes it sound sophisticated and possibly even fun which is quite a gift. All of which is why I’ll pick up any Mitford thing that comes my way and at least give it a once over.

So it was with ‘The Water Beetle’ which I picked up for the princely sum of a £1.50 and which I thought would make a good stop gap whilst I wait for Capuchin’s reissue of ‘Highland Fling’ to appear. Getting ‘Highland Fling’ is proving to be a bit of a trial, amazon are currently sold out and neither local Waterstones has a copy (which is more especially annoying as the larger of the two branches in town is getting back to its bookselling routes by pitching about 15% of its floor space over to Paperchase. I like stationary but I prefer books, my stationary buying needs are well catered for in Leicester, my book buying needs aren’t and I fail to see how less book selling space is going to improve a bookshop. And it occurs to me that this is part the reason I called myself desperate reader. Hmmph.)

Slightly distracted from my point now but I’ll get back to it yet... so here I am patiently (ish) awaiting a means of purchasing a long anticipated book and looking for ways to while away the time, both factors which pushed me towards ‘The Water Beetle’ an assortment of Mitford essays which with one or two exceptions have aged remarkably badly. She gives a fascinating account of a visit to Russia in the 50’s and what Mitford fan could fail to be excited by ‘Reading for Pleasure’ an account of Nancy’s reading tastes, but the rest of the collection is Nancy as a woman of a her class and time – a Francophile to boot, I’m not so very pro French - the result of years in the wine trade rendered hideous by customers who don’t know what they’re talking about (no reason why they should) but who refuse to believe that I do. (People I’ve wasted the best years of my life on learning this stuff, I’m not just making it up, and if you persist in doubting me one day I’ll snap and use the ‘Oxford Companion to Wine’ in a way Jancis Robinson could hardly approve.)

Again – where was I? Ah yes, Nancy Mitford reading like a parody of Prince Philip – and this is the thing, I can’t warm to the woman in these pages, she put my back up more often than not, yet still I can’t resist her because even when she’s repellent she manages to be fascinating. I could only recommend ‘The Water Beetle’ to hard core enthusiasts but I would still recommend it. I plan to keep my copy with the various collections of Mitford letters I’ve amassed as a reminder of the other side of the women so carefully edited and presented in these anthologies, I rather think it’ll help me read more between the lines.

Finally has anyone read ‘Highland Fling’ yet – and if so what’s the verdict?

The Knot of Vipers – Francois Mauriac

Very kindly sent to me by Capuchin, I blew hot and cold on this book - until I started reading it from which point onwards I stayed hot (if that doesn’t sound wrong). The thing that first drew me to Mauriac was his Catholicism specifically the idea of him being a catholic writer. The combined forces of Alice Thomas Ellis and Muriel Spark have converted me, if not to the church, at least to the possibilities of its literature, and Mauriac has not let them (or me) down.

The quality they all have in common, and which I find so appealing, is that all of these authors are prepared to make their narrator if not actually downright unpleasant, at least realistically humanly unpleasant. I find it reassuring to read, not about evil, but about weakness, paranoia, less charitable thoughts – all the things we think but don’t always want to give voice to. You normally have to know someone very well to know these kinds of flaws in them, so the effect of meeting it on the page can be very disarming.

Monsieur Louis, the narrator and hero of ‘The Knot of Vipers’ is an unloved, unloving, and nearly unlovable man. He’s cut off from his family by a web of suspicion and antipathy. They are determined to get their inheritance; he is equally intent on disinheriting them. Louis is convinced that he is at the base of it an unpleasant even hateful man, he’s put everything into building a fortune, and into trying to enact emotional retribution from those he feels have hurt him – mostly his wife.

The book takes the form first of a letter and then of a confession, Monsieur Louis goes over his life from disappointment to disappointment never withholding his own misdeeds. There is also no doubt that this is a biased account seen from a single perspective, which I also think is where the story is at its strongest. As a young man Louis finds himself marrying a girl far above his social sphere – as he tells it he becomes engaged by accident and without actually meaning to, but initially it’s a happy union; that is until his wife confesses to a previous affair one night. It brings all Louis’ insecurities to the fore – including the belief that Isa married him only for his money. The marriage falls apart from that moment, and the next forty years are a slow burning war of attrition between the couple. Isa annexes the children, Louis engages in a series of sordid liaisons, and ostentatiously turns his back on Isa’s beloved church, losing no opportunity to expose the religious hypocrisy he sees around him.

The other half of the book deals with the battle for Louis’ soul. Is he redeemable? Can he let go of the hatred and desire for vengeance, of the knot of vipers that has taken the place of his heart. Well I’ll leave you to guess the ending for yourselves, but will say that there’s a heartbreaking moment when he realises that he might have misjudged his wife.

To my modern and atheist eye the spiritual message feels a little clumsy, and something’s feel like a coincidence to far, but there’s a lot to be said for the reminder that we are the sum of what we do and not what we pay lip service too, and everything else about the story telling is terrific. The Bordeaux countryside is bought vividly to life, the slow unravelling of a life is equally moving and gripping, and however imperfect Louis is I could not help but sympathise with him. I can confirm that this is indeed a classic to keep alive!

Do by the way check out Capuchin's website. They're having a launch party for Nancy Mitford's Highland fling at Heywood Hill's bookshop on the 15th of July and it looks like tickets can be applied for...

Wigs On The Green

My first brush with Nancy Mitford came about fifteen years ago on a visit to Chatsworth. I found an omnibus in the gift shop and as I had a nine hour train journey back to university to look forward to it seemed like just the thing to pass the time. My twenty year old self thought it was probably the most sparkling sophisticated thing she’d ever read. I think a reread is probably due – the omnibus included The Blessing, Love in a Cold Climate, Don’t Tell Alfred, and The Pursuit of Love and I think it’s probably fair to say that those four are the best that Mitford has to offer.

Still Mitford’s are big business as the steady stream of books by and about them prove, and this year sees the reissue of two more Nancy’s – ‘Wigs On The Green’ earlier this month from Penguin (along with very pretty new jackets for their other titles) and ‘Highland Fling’ in the summer from Capuchin. Outside of the four normal suspects the only other Nancy I’ve read is ‘Pigeon Post’ - about a year ago when I found a cheap second hand copy, so I’ve been very excited by these re-issues.

Right off it’s undoubtedly true that the earlier books lack something that makes the best ones so good. Taken on its own ‘Wigs On The Green’ is an occasionally funny period piece – not all the jokes have aged well, and it brings all the Mitford snobbishness firmly to the fore, there isn’t an awful lot for the reader to warm to. The thing is you can’t take it on its own – it’s a juicy bit of history with plenty to recommend itself to anyone interested in the Mitford’s, or anyone who wonders how fascism could ever have looked attractive. I’m quite interested in both so felt my money was well spent.

‘Wigs On The Green’ was responsible for a huge rift in family relations. Unity Mitford who is skewered good and proper (though with much love and affection) was furious, as was Diana for the less than respectful tone taken towards her husband and the cause of British fascism. (Nancy’s fascists are called the Union Jackshirts which I think is comedy genius.) Charlotte Mosley who writes the introduction suggests the reason that Nancy suppressed the book post war is because of the upset it had caused within the family, and following Unity’s attempted suicide there’s plenty of weight in that argument. However I think the pro fascist feelings expressed are altogether more to the point; it’s not the kind of book I imagine many authors would have wanted to own up to post war. I also think now is a great time to bring it back.

As an idealistic youth I leaned far further left than right and on the whole that’s the way that history has vindicated, to be exposed to a world where fascist hadn’t yet become the dirty word it is now is as shocking to me as it is fascinating. This is exactly what ‘Wigs On The Green’ does, as Mitford explained to her sisters in an attempt to patch things up all the nicest people in the books are fascist and the general attitude towards them is very pro. In place it really does make for uncomfortable reading yet she does make me begin to understand why fascism might have been attractive.

Attractive because it’s about the young and idealistic, a suggestion of romance, and for the upper classes of the day a return to an altogether more ordered and certain way of life. For Nancy who also flirted briefly with the politics clearly weren’t something to take to seriously – she laughs continuously at her Union Jackshirts in a way that suggests she finds such enthusiasm for a cause somewhat ridiculous, but in a way that also suggests that the very real threat they pose is underestimated.

For pure Mitford fans there is also a portrait of Peter Rodd (Nancy’s husband) in the form of the unprincipled Jasper Aspect. Apparently he was also part model for Evelyn Waugh’s Basil Seal, Jasper/Peter/Basil are cads of the first order, but not without charm. Nancy, not long married when she wrote this spends a good bit of time exploring love, marriage, and divorce. In short the writing is on the wall for all those with the gift of hindsight to read, and I am more excited than ever about ‘Highland Fling’.

Capuchin Classics

I’ve sort of followed Capuchin Classics since they started up in spring 2008 but somehow they have stayed on the periphery of my buying and reading habits (this has more to do with my limited means than Capuchin’s list) but amazon keeps reminding me that Nancy Mitford’s ‘Highland Fling’ is out in a few months. Okay so I don’t actually need reminding – I’ve been waiting for this for the last eighteen months with virtually bated breath – thanks to the imminent release of ‘Wigs on the Green’ from penguin and ‘Highland Fling’ from Capuchin this is going to be quite the year for Mitford fans.

Whilst I was ordering my missing E.F. Benson’s amazon was trying it’s best to make me pre order Mitford’s with the end result that I went straight to Capuchin for a good old browse. I warn you now I’m about to be unashamedly enthusiastic. I called Capuchin (to shamelessly beg for a book) and spoke to a very nice man who was exceptionally helpful - generally and not just regarding my begging – so all in all it’s left me with an excellent impression. I like their blog as well, and not just because it mentions me!

It was intriguing talking to a man; previously I’ve only ever spoken to women in publicity departments but it seems fitting with Capuchin. If Virago books are broadly feminist and Persephone books are feminine I’ve always had a sense that Capuchin are somehow more masculine – they make me think of well made leather shoes, trilby hats, and trench coats; maybe even a hint of cigar smoke about some of the titles. I’m hoping that doesn’t all sound to deliberately whimsical; I’ve put a bit of thought into it and still haven’t hit on a better way to express what I mean. Either way it’s what I seem to be in the mood for after a good eighteen months to two years of reading books almost exclusively by and about women.

My browse turned up a few things I’m interested in – A A Milne’s ‘Two People’ and Eric Linklater’s ‘Juan in America’ have jumped to the top of my wish list. If I ever read (and turn out to enjoy) the Storm Jameson books I already have I’m also intrigued by ‘Love in Winter’. They have a Saki coming out ‘The Unbearable Bassington’ (there cannot be enough Saki on the bookshelves) and then there’s ‘Scenes From the Latin Quarter’ (Henri Murger), ‘South Wind’ (Norman Douglas), and ‘The Undiscovered Country’ (Julian Mitchell) – all very tempting and just a slight departure from what I have been reading, so fingers crossed for a good bonus and a huge splurge on books.

Even more interesting is the invitation to suggest titles for publication – if you propose one that gets taken up Capuchin will provide a whole year’s worth of books – I tried to think of something but sadly my mind went blank – worth checking out by anybody with a book to champion though...