Bookbuyer's
Bookend
Bookbuyer is fully conscious of the importance ot showing proper reverence to the departed, but the organisers of the annual Nice Book Fair seem to be going a little far. Last month they announced the cancellation of the 1974 fair — originally due to be held last weekend — because of the death of President Pompidou five weeks ago. On the surface it seems an odd way to pay respects to one of Europe's more civilised politicians. But then Nice has long been regarded by certain publishers as a better place for a holiday than for a commercially edifying book fair, it is not supported by Bs' tam's Book Development Council, and ... well, you can draw whatever conclusions you like.
The Bookseller magazine's Malcolm Oram, just back from a reporting assignment in Belfast: was disturbed to see how many publishers , representatives had forsaken the troubled province. One such was educational and technical publisher Edward Arnold, who had apparently not sent a man over for four years — a fact on which Oram was tempted to comment in print. He was foiled in the nick of time, however. As he was talking to the manager of Mayne's on his last morning there, a charm-, ing young lady presented herself to the bookseller. She was, she said, from Edward Arnold, where she had been working in a fairly junior capacity since just before Christmas. On hearing that she and her husband were going to visit friends in Northern Ireland, Messrs Arnold had offered to contribute to her fare, provided she would enter the bomb-beleaguered 'city shopping centre to sell her employer's wares.
The award for non-sequitur of the month goes to the new firm of Milton House. To celebrate their first birthday, this enterprising little firm
dedicated to publishing good middle-brow fiction — took a two-page advertisement in the trade press, ending with a short blurb on a non-fiction book called The Business of Spying. "A Milton House special is arousing world-wide interest," said the ad. "The author was interviewed on Thames TV and on the radio."
By a nice coincidence, the small general publishing firm of Shepheard-Walwyn has also just celebrated its first birthday. The coincidence lies in the fact that as a fresh-faced twenty-five-year-old with a small inheritance fallen into his lap, Christopher ShepheardWalwyn decided one lunchtime to become a publisher, and happened to walk past the doors of a firm called Pica Editorial. With a view to learning more about his newly chosen vocation, he went in and chatted to Pica's editor Rosemary Ellerbeck, who was then about to start Milton House. On her desk was a manuscript which had unsuccessfully gone the rounds of several publishing houses — Grace Foakes' Between High Walls, a charming story of her London childhood at the beginning of the century. Shepheard-Walwyn liked it, took it (Miss Ellerbeck acting as literary agent) and' after commissioning illustrations and having paper specially made, he published his first' book. It got excellent reviews, sold out its first impression quickly, and Shepheard-Walw.yn
was on his way. . .
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