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Just before Christmas I heard about the Icelandic tradition of book giving and book reading on Christmas Eve.  Envious of such a fine tradition, I tried to join in by reading a book by an Icelandic author, set in Iceland, over the Christmas break, starting in that fine Icelandic tradition on Christmas Eve.  Snow Blind had been on my TBR pile for a while and fitted the bill nicely. I am in Ragnar Jonasson's debt.  My reading year (which I always, for reasons lost in the depths of time, mark from Christmas Day to Christmas Eve, rather than on the calendar year) could not have got off to a better start.  Snow Blind is outstanding crime fiction - tense, atmospheric, plot-driven, human. It swings from compelling to shocking and back to compelling with a lyrical ease so smooth you don't even realise your emotions are being rocked. (NB, no spoilers here, so read on.) The clever plotting starts on page one, with a chilling crime scene. For scene two, we've been thrown back some 12 months. (Reader's tip: pay attention to the timelines in the chapter headings from the get go!). By scene three, we really don't know where, or when, we are.  But relentlessly, with an excruciating inevitability, the three story lines mesh into a single web of intrigue and investigation.  Give this book three minutes reading and you won't want to put it down until you've finished. That's a promise.  A tense, tight plot is spun to tautness by masterful storytelling. [caption id="attachment_1347" align="alignright" width="300"] Siglufjordur[/caption] Ari Thor Arason, a decent young man still wet behind the ears and taking the first steps in a career in the police force, is uprooted from the busy hub of Reykhvik and takes a posting in the remote, northern fishing village of Siglufjordur. Siglufjordur is a small place, and like most small communities, everyone know's everyone else's business and almost everyone was probably in love with with some else's partner years ago.  Ari Thor finds himself oppressed not only by his sense of otherness, of being an outsider, but also by the guilt of what he's left behind and most of all by the ever present mountains which surround the town and the relentless absence of daylight of an Icelandic winter. A constant, sometimes menacing, sense of place is essential to Snow Blind's atmospheric charge: Siglufjordur is a real place, nestled along a narrow fjord and surrounded by mammoth snow-covered mountains, it could only be reached by sea until the 1940s when a long, thin tunnel was driven through mountain rock.  When an avalanche blocks that tunnel, Snow Blind's claustrophobic and inescapable isolation touches on malevolence, beautifully echoing and amplifying the deepened sense of plot-driven tension.  And as winter and and his inner qualms threatened to overwhelm Ari Thor, he is thrown in at the sharp end of a complex web of inter-linked of jealousies and prejudice, illicit attractions and warped kindnesses which cover a crime of shocking callousness.  I loved way in which Jonasson makes place and people inextricable. Ari Thor is an engaging and likable 'detective hero' - although he has few heroic qualities beyond a basic decency and a determined, fine mind.  He's morally and ethically flawed, and all the more credible for that. Things I liked less included the brief section where it's clear that Ari Thor has found a game-changing clue, but it's withheld from the reader. This always makes me feel a little cheated;  and the one time where the theatre, a key place in the novel, is referred to as a cinema.  Perhaps in Icelandic the terms are interchangeable, but the distinction was enough to bother me and momentarily break the Snow Blind spell while I worked out where on earth we'd got to. [caption id="attachment_1346" align="alignleft" width="300"] Ragnar Jonasson[/caption] Snow Blind by Ragnar Jonasson was published by Orenda Books in 2015. I'm betting that Jonasson is set to become a leading challenger to the kingship of Nordic Noir.  Signed first editions of this debut novel are already being offered at prices well above retail, suggesting that crime fiction fans are already backing his books as both readable and collectible. I bought my copy of Snowblind (from the fabulous indy bookshop, Wimbledon Books and Music) on the recommendation of publisher Karen Sullivan or Orenda Books.

Addendum - added 14 January 2015

Delighted to have a response from the published on the cinema/theatre point, which speaks volumes of the care and attention to detail that authors get from Orenda Books.  But even better for me, as a collector of crime and detective fiction books, is to have confirmation from the publisher of a 'point of issue' to identify a first edition beyond doubt (although I'm not sure whether this applies to the hardback version, which may be the true first).

@BookAddictUK @ragnarjo What a GREAT review!! Thank you so much! Fabulous! You'll be glad to know we fixed 'theatre' in reprint :)

— Karen Sullivan (@OrendaBooks) January 13, 2016

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2015 annual report for my BookAddiction blog.  I love my little blog but I think I need to work harder next year - more bookish posts, more reviews (I read loads of books but only review a tiny proportion) and lots more on book collecting as I love doing those posts most and they seem most useful to others too. Here's an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 9,200 times in 2015. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 3 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

Christmas day is quiet in the BookAddict's house this year.  For the most wonderful of reasons - the arrival of a healthy, hearty and much loved little boy yesterday, on Christmas Eve, into our circle, our festivities will start tomorrow with Boxing Day, and then our 'Christmas Day' on Monday. That leaves a little time for reading, and blogging, today on Christmas Day and I thought it would be fun to share the books that lovely friends and family have given as presents for Christmas this year. [caption id="attachment_1254" align="alignnone" width="500"] The Ingoldsby Legends - Mirth and Marvels, 1864, designed by John Leighton. Image credit: British Library[/caption] The tradition of giving books and other keepsakes at Christmas has ancient origins but had been largely the preserve of the affluent elite.  Spring used to be the prime time for book production but with technological advances in the early 19th century, printing and books became cheaper and more plentiful and by the 1840s peak time had shifted to October, with publishers and printers rushing out enough gift books, special editions and Christmas reading to assuage the growing demands of the aspiring middle-classes to celebrate Christmas in style.  Authors, too, developed an acute understanding of the potential of the Christmas market.  Charles Dickens wrote Christmas-themed stories for special editions of magazines such as Household Works and All Year Round and in 1843 he published the  perennial Xmas favourite, a Christmas Carol.  Fables, ghost stories and fairy tales were prominent among Victorian Christmas gift books, with new fantasy stories from the likes of Charles Kingsley, Christina Rosetti and Lewis Carroll mixing with retellings of traditional stories and cheap reprints of classic works. Books intended for the Christmas market were often elaborately and beautifully decorated and illustrated - it was an era when books were often appreciated, and shown off, for their physical appearance as much as their contents.  The one shown above - a copy of the Ingoldsby Legends from the 1860s - is typical, with its generous block gold decorations.  This one is in the fine care of the British Library in London, which is probably the best place for it if it can't be under my Christmas tree! We've delayed our gift giving, along with the other festivities, but I couldn't resist opening my LibraryThing Secret Santa exchange parcel.  (For booklovers, the LibraryThing Secret Santa, organised each year by wonderful Lorenne at LibraryThing HQ, is Christmas heaven - LibraryThing members opt in to send one another member a book or two for Christmas.  You get to put in a little info about your reading tastes, or wishlist wants, or whatever, and Loranne matches you to someone else who has similar reading tastes (and therefore might know of little gems you have yet to discover) and they choose the books you receive.  Picking the right book for someone else is enormous fun, and very rewarding when you get it right, and made much easier as LibraryThing members (mostly) have their books catalogued on LibraryThing, so you know what they already have and, perhaps, what they have enjoyed reading in the past.) Whoever did the choosing for me this year got it just right right and, of the three books I received, two were books I would have chosen for myself if I had known of them and the third was one that I had long been wanting to read but hadn't quite gotten around to it.  (Thank you so much, Secret Santa!) Secret Santa sent me The Art of English Murder by Lucy Worsley - a book I didn't know existed by perfectly blends my interests in true crime, crime and detective fiction and history.  I recall enjoying the series when it was shown on TV, but I didn't get to see them all, and the book is even better! I can say this with confidence, as I'm already half way through!   The second book out of the generously-sized parcel was another I hadn't come across before, but am now very glad to have it.  The Italian Boy by Sarah Wise promises a retelling of a true story of murder and grave-robbery in 1830s London.  A true crime story, set in early Victorian London couldn't be a better choice for me. And the final book in this special parcel is The Luminaries by Eleanor Catton.  Winner of the Man Booker Prize a couple of years back, I've long been meaning to read this, and now I can! I've given quite a few books as Christmas presents myself this year too. I will post about those, and why I chose them, but I don't want to give the game away before we have our delayed present exchange on Monday.  I also plan to update this book if I'm lucky enough to receive any more books this Christmas. Have you given or received books as Christmas gifts this year?  Which are your favourites & why?  Blogged about them? Have the odd photo or two? Please share.  Post a link to you blog or photos or whatever before and, if you like, share on Twitter using the hashtag #XmasGiftBook There's a lovely blog post here, on books from Christmas past, by Bristol-based book blogger, Claire.  

okSomeone has asked Books and Bygones, one of my fellow ibooknet booksellers, for help in locating a replacement copy of an old cookbook.  Not such an unusual request, you might think, but there's a twist with this one.  The book has been so well used - obviously a constant kitchen companion- that it has lost its covers and title page is missing, so the book hunter doesn't know its title or publisher, or publication date, or any of the other useful information that would usually appear on the covers, title page and copyright page.  So we're a bit stumped as to what the book actually is, which makes it hard to find a replacement.  All we know about the book is that it's an old cookbook, probably first bought about 50 years ago, very likely from Woolworths. The book hunter has sent this picture - it shows an owl surrounded by the words "In Knowledge Lies Wisdom" with the letters L and P either side.   This at least is recognisable - it is the logo of The Literary Press, so at least we now know the publisher, but can you help with any further details?  Perhaps you recognise the logo from one of your own cook books?  Or you know of cookery books published by the Literary Press - or may even have some images you of them you can share to help us narrow the search. [caption id="attachment_1207" align="aligncenter" width="400"] The Literary Press's owl logo - In Knowledge Lies Wisdom[/caption] I know the Literary Press published some of Elizabeth Craig's cook books, such as 'Elizabeth Craig's Simple  Cooking' but this particular version of the Literary Press's logo doesn't seem to match the editions of Craig's book that I have to hand.  Any thoughts, tips or knowledge very gratefully received.  If we get further details of the book from the book hunter, I'll post them here.

While busy cataloguing mostly interesting rather than beautiful books this morning, I was delighted to come across a wee gem - an extended, illustrated essay on the life and work of the late Victorian illustrator, Louis Wain. [caption id="attachment_1179" align="aligncenter" width="437"] Afternoon at Home by Louis Wain, Design for a picture postcard published by Raphael Tuck & Sons Ltd in London, 1922. India ink, water and body colour.[/caption] To many these days Louis Wain may not be a familiar name but anyone lucky enough to remember the first few decades of the 20th century may recall being amused by his cat pictures, or have a vague recollection of the public appeals on Wain's behalf as he ended his life in mental illness. Wain's most prolific period was between 1890, shortly after the death from cancer of his adored first wife Emily, and the outbreak of the first world war. During that period he illustrated many books and designed hundreds of picture postcards showing cats acting as humans or dressed in human clothes.  He drew other anthropomorphic animals as well, but it was his cats that enchanted the public and with which he made his name. [caption id="attachment_1184" align="aligncenter" width="356"] Acrobatic Cats by Louis Wain. Drawing for illustration produced by Raphael Tuck & Sons Ltd, c 1905. India ink and water colours.[/caption] Wain was born in London in 1860, the son of a textile traveller originally from Leek in Staffordshire.  His artist bent probably derived from his mother, Felicia (nee Boiteux) who was of Angl0-French descent.  She worked as a textile designer and her father had been a freelance artist.  Wain enjoyed great successes with this illustrations but he was not as good at managing his money as he was at drawing cats and his life was marked by poverty as a well as tragedy and ill-health: he died of kidney failure in 1935 but the latter years of his life in particular were marred with mental decline and symptoms - including some loss of speech and paresis - suggestive of cerebral thombosis. His cat drawings, always peppered with incisive wit, brought joy to thousands of people all over the world - some of whom "sent him specimens varying from one many thousands of years old taken from a Egyptian mummy's tomb to the latest china monstrosity". The essay was originally written in the late 1940s by Brian Reade, Deputy Keeper of the Department of Prints and Drawings at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, and intended to accompany an exhibition of a representative sample of reproductions of Wain's works.  But that project never came to fruition and the essay was only published when the Victoria and Albert Museum held a Louis Wain exhibition in the early part of 1972.  The essay is illustrated with numerous examples of Wain's cat illustrations, most of which are presented in lovely full colour tones. [caption id="attachment_1186" align="aligncenter" width="916"] Louis Wain by Brian Reade, an extended essay published by the Victoria and Albert Museum, 1972[/caption] This book (booklet? - it's only 28 pages and comes in card covers) would make a fine and unusual Christmas present for any cat lover or admirer of Louis Wain's work  - we only have one in stock but would love it to find an appreciative home. Louis Wain's Cats by Brian Reade can be purchased for £10 inc UK delivery from Wimbledon Rare and Collectible Books.

This morning, while looking for something else entirely, I stumbled upon the stunning work of US-based bookbinder Monique Lallier.  I thought I'd use this post to share a flavour of her works with others. Monique Lallier is, according to the Library of Syracuse University, an 'internationally recognised' bookbinder and book artist who trained in her native Canada and then in Paris and Switzerland with Hugo Peller.  She is now works and teaches out of studios in Summerfield, North Carolina which she shares with her husband, the renown English-born bookbinder Don Etherton. Lallier's work can be found in the collections of McGill University, Montreal; Louisiana State University, the University of North Carolina as well as in many private collections in the US, Europe, Canada and Japan (although, sadly, not in mine!).  She has exhibited extensively, including with the Guild of Bookworkers and is a Director of the American Academy of Bookbinding.  My interest in designer bookbinder is relatively new which may explain why I have not come across her work before - but given the beauty of her work, newness can't excuse it. This is one of my favourites from those I've seen so far. [caption id="attachment_1090" align="alignnone" width="736"] La Petite Poule d'Eau bu Gabrille Roy, bound by Monique Lallier[/caption] In this example, Lallier has used a french binding technique and a process called lacunose, which involves sanding different pieces of leather as well as lots of time and muscle-power, to cover a copy of La Petite Poule d’Eau by Gabrielle Roy. La Petite Poule d'Eau tells the story of a village in Canada and Lallier has said of this binding that she was seeking to convey a sense of the village's physical structure and its colourful characters.  I think it works. This lovely kangeroo blue leather binding covers Emile Zola's La Fete a Coqueville. [caption id="attachment_1109" align="alignright" width="800"] Emile Zola's La Fete a Coqueville, bound by Monique Lalllier
[/caption]  The circular onlays have once again been created using lacunose.  It has french embroidered endbands and edge to edge doublure (decorative lining on the inside) of red leather.  The raised circular onlays remind me of raindrops landing.   This beautiful binding of Lost and Found - a work about the illustrator Rachel Rackett - has a special and wholly appropriate feature, a section which is hidden, or lost, just waiting to be found. [caption id="attachment_1116" align="alignnone" width="736"] Lost and Found, bound by Monique Lallier[/caption] The black leather binding, with its elegant, decorative, crumbled stripes appears simple enough.  But explore a little further and the binding reveals a secret compartment which can be folded out to reveal a tumbling, crazy-made urban panel. [caption id="attachment_1121" align="alignnone" width="736"] Lost and Found, with the secret panel revealed[/caption] The secret panel technique is, according to the Herringbone Bindery, unique to Lallier, who first developed it in 1985 for a binding of L’Ecorce et le Vent, where a panel opens out to reveal a layered forest of trees in a striking contrast colour. [caption id="attachment_1125" align="alignnone" width="650"] L'Ecorce et Le Vent, bound by Monqiue Lallier[/caption]   I would love to be able to add one of two of Lallier's works to my collection.  But for the moment I shall have to content myself with virtual images.  And for that purpose, I've created a wee Monique Lallier Pininterest board, where you can see more of her works.  Lallier has a website with not one but two lovely image galleries.  

Collecting may be a bit of grand term of what is really no more than a wee shelf-full of almost randomly accumulated signed modern first editions. But for reasons I find hard to define I do like to have books signed by the author or someone else associated with the book (the latter more properly called 'association copies' than 'signed firsts', which implies the author's signature is present). I don't have the funds - or the discipline - to collect actively or pay the hyper-inflated prices of some modern firsts, especially those in fine condition in fine dust jackets. (The recently launched Stanley Gibbons index of rare book prices suggested one might have to pay as much as £24,000 for a nice first edition of Ian Fleming's Casino Royale, and that's without a signature!)  And anyway, I buy books because I want to read them, not to file them away and preserve them, untouched and unspoilt.  But when browsing bookshops, finding a signed first on offer may just be what tempts me to buy that book over another, or to purchase right then and there rather than wait, and think, and probably move on to something else. This week's book buying, then, might be defined as one of success for both the crafty booksellers promoting signed modern firsts and for me as I have managed to find four that I wanted to read anyway. My first find was Slade House by the masterful David Mitchell, spotted as I was taking a shortcut from the London Library to Piccadilly Circus tube through Waterstone's Piccadilly.  I'll read just about anything by Mitchell but this one is such a beautiful book so it's a bit special. I love the way the book has been made to glisten by the tiny cut-outs in the dust jacket.  Those little flashes of red you can see are not printed but the binding cloth glowing through.  So clever and so effective - and just about perfect for a  ghostly-themed novel which must have been specifically timed for Hallowe'en. Then, yesterday, a visit to my favourite, local bookshop, Wimbledon Books and Music. (Ostensibly trying to find a copy of David Park's The Light of Amsterdam to read before bookclub next week - I failed on that score & had to turn to my bookseller of last resort, Amazon, who true to their word, delivered today).  I came home with three more signed first editions: The Little Red Chairs by Edna O'Brien, A Snow Garden by Rachel Joyce and Public Library and Other Stories by Ali Smith.  I really enjoyed Joyce's Perfect, so was tempted to try another but most of all I'm looking forward to The Little Red Chairs. It's some years since I've read anything by Edna O'Brien - too long to be without her challenging voice and masterful storytelling. A Snow Garden and The Little Red Chairs are nice enough looking to grace my beautiful books bookshelf but I do think that the presentation of Public Library and Other Stories is dull and uninviting.  But Ali Smith will always tempt me, however her books are dressed.  

I seem to have acquired an extraordinary number of books for my personal collection in the last couple of weeks, fueled in part by the brilliant and much appreciated generosity of friends bearing bookish birthday gifts.  Some wee jottings and cataloguing is very much overdue – and made urgent by the imminence of tomorrow’s trip to the Oxford Fine Press Book Fair which will hopefully result in a couple more treasures making their way to a new home in Wimbledon.

Crime and Justice in Late Victorian London

A heavy, two volume set of the Richard Harris edited Reminiscences of Sir Henry Hawkins, Baron Brampton (Edward Arnold, 1904) was one of the treasures to arrive this month, purchased from John Taylor Books via ABE. Henry Hawkins was a barrister, becoming Queen's Counsel in 1859,  who was knighted and raised to the bench in 1876 as a judge in what was then the exchequer division of the High Court of Justice. Hawkins was associated with many of the most high profile legal cases of the time, including the Tichbourne trails (which are noted in Reminiscences as "a comedy of blunders. The very claim was an absurdity, every step in the great fraud an absurdity, and every proceeding had some ridiculous absurdity to accompany it", p. 316) and Sugden v. Lord St Leonards, a case relating to the lost will of Edward Sugden, 1st Lord St Leonarnds.  It was his involvement in two more London cases, which he presided over as a judge, which peeked my interest in his Reminiscences: the trial of Louis Stanton, his brother, sister-in-law and lover for the murder of Louis's wife Harriet in 1876 - Hawkins first major trial as a judge - and the case of Dr George Lamson, the Wimbledon Poisoner (the real one, not to be confused with Nigel Williams' albeit excellent comic novel of the same name).  Following a guilty verdict and a death sentence for all four of the accused in the Staunton trial, Hawkins attracted much criticism and was accused of showing unwarranted favouritism to the prosecution in both his handling of the case and his summing up.  It resulted in Hawkins becoming known as a hanging judge - perhaps a little unfairly as at that time judges had no discretion of over sentencing once a guilty verdict had been returned against a charge of murder.  A wild and prolific campaign mounted against the trial outcome, partly orchestrated by the popular novelist Charles Reade who felt Hawkins responsible for a grave injustice resulted in the sentences for the Stauntons being reduced to imprisonment and a pardon for Louis Staunton's lover. Patrick Staunton's lawyer, Edward Clarke, never forgave Hawkins who he considered wicked and many years later was to undermine all attempts by the Bar to celebrate or mark Hawkins' career. [caption id="attachment_995" align="alignright" width="191"] Sir Henry Hawkins with Jack[/caption] These are lovely volumes, bound in heavy maroon cloth with gilt emblems and adornments.  There are rather fine portraits of Hawkins to the frontispiece in each volume, that in the second showing him in his judicial finery with his faithful hound, Jack, to him he was by all accounts devoted. Next to arrive through the post was a much more modern book - Giles St Aubyn's Infamous Victorians - Palmer and Lamson - Two Notorious Poisoners (published by Constable, 1971).  A nicely if modestly produced hardback with a dust jacket illustration which denies the seriousness and horror of the contents purchased from Pauline Herries Books via ABE.  The sharp-eyed will quickly spot the link here to Hawkins' Reminiscences provided by Lamson the Poisoner.  The Lamson shelves have also been supplemented by Hargrave L Adam's The Trial of George Henry Lamson, published in 1913 by William Hodge as part the 'Notable English Trials' series (this time supplied by Richard Sylvanus Williams via ABE).  I particularly like this copy because it has the stamps from the old Police Headquarters Library on Fettes Avenue on the flyleaf, which seems to me to give it a pleasingly appropriate and loosely relevant history. (There will be a blog post to follow on this curious and tragic crime and trial.)

Beautiful Books

Two truly books have been added to my 'beautiful books' collection this month.  The first is a real treasure - a limited edition (128/500) copy of Secret Rose. Produced by the Indie author, Orna Ross, supported by crowd funding and issued to mark the 150th anniversary W B Yeats' birth, Secret Rose is a bold compilation (the fitting dedication is 'For All the Writers Everywhere. Dare').  It contains a revised set of W B Yeats' own Secret Rose stories (including two which Yeats' wanted to include but were left out of his 1897 edition on the insistence of his publisher, Laurence Bullen) set aside part of Ross's own novel, Her Secret Rose, an account of the love affair between W B Yeats and Maud Gonne, thus providing a biographical frame for the reader to understand what was happening on Yeats' life as he was writing the Secret Rose stories.  The volume itself is a monumental and stunning tribute to Yeats' 1897 original Secret Rose, echoing its deep blue boards, swathes of indulgent gilt decoration, and generous and inviting layout. The 1897 edition was designed by Yeats' friend, the artist Althea Gyles and, for me, Ross's 2015 semi-replica does her complex and richly symbolic work perfect justice.  In rich and intricate gilding, the front cover shows the skeleton of a knight, with his long sword, caught, perhaps entrapped, between a veil-like line; out of his loins emerges first the roots and then the branches of a highly-stylised tree which morphs into two lovers kissing, while their hands rest respectively on a cross and rose at the centre of the tree of life, evoking the rosy-cross Rosicrucian emblem.  The spine is decorated with a celtic sword plunging into a chalice, full of phallic and sexual overtones of life, love and loss. And the gilding on the rear features another rosy cross with rays emanating from its edges towards a circle of spears.  (For more on the symbolism of the decorations, see this article which appeared in the Bookseller).  I'm utterly delighted to have had my copy signed and inscribed by Orna Ross. It would be hard for another book -at least any that I could afford - to match the thrill of Secret Rose but I'm still very pleased to have been able this month to add to my small but growing collection of books designed by Margaret Armstrong with an American edition (Charles Scribner, 1922) of Henry Van Dyke's Companionable Books.

Fiction

Turning away from the theme of crime and justice in late Victorian London, a copy of Bradford Morrow's The Forgers also arrived this week (this time a new book courtesy of Amazon).  The blurby bits proclaim The Forgers as 'brilliantly written...lethally enthralling' but I can never resist a mystery set in the arcane and rarefied world of bibliomania and book collectors and it was take aspect of this novel that appealed to me.  I confess I set aside all other reading as soon as it arrived and started to devour. I'm half way through and thoroughly enjoying what is an easy and compelling read, although I'm beginning to question whether the hyperbole of the blurb regarding the quality of writing is entirely justified.  Also rans in the fiction stakes are Death Sentences by Ian Rankin, which promises more biblio-based stories, Game of Chance  by A C Koning (although I really can't remember what tempted me to buy this now - maybe a read a review?) Quick Curtain by Alan Melville, which was splendidly spotted in a second hand shop, for I love the entire British Library Crime Classics series!

Parliament and Politics

Parliament and politics are a core part of reading matter and book collecting. So October has also seen the arrival Law in Politics, Politics in Law, edited by David Feldman, with contributions from such luminaries of politico-legal world as Dawn Oliver, Stephen Laws, Rhodri Walters and Philip (Lord) Norton (Hart Publishing, 2015).  This volume is part of the 'Hart Studies in Constitutional Law' series - a further volume in the series is expected to be issued next year which will contain my own small contribution on Parliament's pre-legislative scrutiny written in collaboration with Helen Kinghorn.  Yes, you heard it here folks - my first proper publication!  In a similar vein, I was delighted to be given a copy of Magna Carta and Its Modern Legacy, edited by Robert Hazell and James Melton (Cambridge University Press, 2015) at the recent launch event at the Institute for Government.  The political-cum-constitutional theme has been rounded out by The Changing Constitution (8th edition), edited by Jeffrey Jowell, Dawn Oliver and Colm O'Cinneide - which also features a chapter by Lord Norton, this time on Parliament's assertiveness.  And then, just yesterday, a rather tatty copy of Bobby Friedman's Rowdy Living in the Tory Party: Bercow, Mr Speaker (Gibson Square, 2013) arrived.  (That might not be quite the right title for this book - if my copy had a title page, I could tell.  But it doesn't. See below.)

And finally, another rant about booksellers who use 'fulfilled by Amazon'

I have ranted before about the crappiness of those selling books via 'fulfilled by Amazon' - and have sworn never to use the service again.  This time though I really, really mean it.  The book was described as being in 'very good' condition.  But is arrived with the title page missing - roughly torn out leaving a ragged stump of a page which no-one who even gave the book a cursory glance could have missed - a bizarre strip of dangling cardboard, rough round the edges, affixed to the rear cover - and that hateful, enormous Amazon sticky label over the bar code. If I'd been cataloguing the book it would, at best, have been graded as 'reading copy only' - the very lowest condition grading, as should any modern book with missing pages.  But to call it 'very good' is a joke.  But I can't be bothered to return it - I'll just make a note to never again buy a book from ACE BOOKS.  The book itself, while certainly very cheaply produced (which always suggests to me that the publisher didn't have sufficient confidence in the quality of the contents to make any sort of investment) appears to be a lively and engaging account of the early formation and experiences of this most marmite of politicians.

Last night I told Darling Husband that I'd try to read some of the books already bought before acquiring more.  Abiding by that resolution, offered unprompted, without pressure and sincerely meant at the time, hasn't gone so well today.   Yes, indeed, the Book Addict extraordinaire was let out to play! It was all started by my friend and fellow bookseller, Catherine Hawley, who had the audacity to tweet a link to new releases from a publisher, Victorian Secrets, which I had not come across before.  I am a huge fan of Victorian, especially late 19th century, literature so I couldn't resist taking a look. Victorian Secrets is ana independent publisher with an impressive list of books from and about the 19th century, produced as much as a labour of love as a commercial endeavour, with strong leaning towards otherwise out of print works by Victorian writers a risk of being unduly forgotten: "Mindful that large publishers are interested only in canonical authors, we devote much of our free time to ensuring that important novels aren’t lost to posterity".  A quick glance at Victorian Secret's catalogue confirms that is not an empty promise. I chose just one book, a copy of Charlotte Riddell's Weird Stories which promises also a decent introduction by Emma Liggins.  Riddell was close to be being a Victorian publishing sensation.  Popular and influential in her time, she published some 56 novels and short story collections as well as editing and co-owning one of the most prestigious literary journals of her day - St James' Magazine - yet she's been largely overlooked by readers and publishers alike for the last few decades.  Having recently read and enjoyed T G Jackson's Six Ghost Stories (published some 40 odd years later, but with a retrospective Gothic tone), this seemed a good choice. But I could have chosen several more -  Margaret Harkness's A City Girl, published in 1887 under the pseudonym John Law is tempting. Set in late Victorian London it recounts the experiences of a poor  East End seamstress seduced by a middle-class man, and this edition includes not only a scholarly introduction but also the authors correspondence with Friedrich Engels. That's one. Then, on my way home from work, my tube service was unexpectedly 'paused' at Gloucester Road.  What better reason does one need for a visit to Slightly Foxed's delightful bookshop, just a few short steps from the tube station.  And anyway, it was nearly a year since I'd visited, so I just had to. Striding along the road, I determined to forgo browsing the new books on the ground floor and to make my way directly to the second hand shelves in the basement.  This is a tranquil haven of delight for book lovers, the perfect place to feed a book addition, with a well-curated and clearly cared for selection on packed shelves stretching from floor to ceiling and a central den with a comfy sofa and flowers on a side table where one can browse at leisure.  My resolution almost held out - that is until I spotted that Slightly Foxed are now stocking Peirene books (I collect, in a very haphazard but acquisitive manner, Peirene books, along with Persephone Books, Virago, old Penguins and, now I suspect those of Victorian Secrets too).  I could not pass up the opportunity - Peirene publish the finest foreign fiction in translation, and it volumes which can just about be read in a single sitting. So a copy of the intriguing-sounding Mr Darwin's Gardener by the Finnish author Kristina Carlson is held for me at the desk while I browse downstairs. It's all too easy for time to race away in a good second hand bookshop, but doubly so in Slightly Foxed. I browse and browse, spend a very pleasant 20 minutes on the sofa trying to decide if I'm going to buy an early 20th century history of Surrey, in a super art deco-ish binding, but eventually re-shelf it: at £25 I thought it was a little on the pricey side and anyway the book didn't give Wimbledon, my real interest, more than a few passing mentions.  I also spent some time considering whether to take their copy a literary companion to Parliament (Parliament is another collecting area, but in this case for professional rather than personal reasons). I didn't.  The pages were slightly tanned, which always interferes with my reading pleasure, and I reckoned it wouldn't be too hard to find a brighter copy.  But as I climbed the rather narrow stairs back to the ground floor, I did have another book in hand: This Old Wig, Being some Recollections of a former London Metropolitan Police Magistrate by J B Sandbach.  Not a book I'd come across before, nor an author of whom I'd heard, but this is a delightful gem of a book, full of personal reminiscences, reflections on criminal justice and quirky takes on famous murder cases and routine offences. That's three. When I finally arrived in Wimbledon it was raining. Hard-hurtling raindrops, bursting like fountains on ground fall  So rather than walking along the High Street to the grocery store to buy something for supper, the longer route through the covered shopping centre promised keeping dry The only book shop in the shopping centre is a discount store selling 'bargain books'. I don't often go in, having learnt from experience that they rarely stock much of interest to me and, when they do, the books are often a bit battered and torn, which puts me off.  But today they were having a closing down sale (ahead of relocating, it turns out, rather than closing).  I emerge with SEVEN more books.

• Head of State by Andrew Marr, chosen because I usually find Marr erudite and readable (a rare combination).  Head of State is his first novel, and according to the blurb, combines two themes which appealed - it's a crime novel offering 'an irreverent glimpse behind the parliamentary curtain'.
• Murders and Misdemeanors in the West End of London 1800-1850 by Alan Brooke and David Brandon.  An unpromisingly produced book, it appealed to my triple obsessions with London's history, historic crimes and Victorian times and morality.
• Scenes from Early Life by Philip Hensher.  I've never really sure whether I enjoy Hensher's novels but I've read several now and always find them intriguing and thought-provoking. And his writing at times touches on exquisite.
• Burial Rites by Hannah Kent. Several friends have recommended this book so I thought I should give it a go. Or at least have the option to do so by putting a copy on the shelves.
• Edward III and the Triumph of England.  A book which has long been on my wish list but never quite seemed to reach the top.  I was delighted to find it in the sale so snapped a copy, but was a little surprised to find it had been remaindered.
• Stoker's Manuscript by Royce Prouty. I have no high hopes of enjoying reading this.  It's been so cheaply produced - poor quality paper, crude cover of the sort one associates with the stock covers of self-published works - that one is tempted to think that the publisher, Random House, didn't have enough faith in its quality to pay anything other than the most basic production costs.  But the blurb says its a story (presumably entirely fictional) about authenticating the original draft of Bram Stoker's Dracula, and I've just read Dracula and am working on a blog post on the discovery and subsequent sale of the real manuscript, and though this might provide some decent counter-context.
• Alexander McCall Smith's retelling on Emma. I've pondered on reading this several times - I love Emma and have enjoyed several of McCall Smith's mysteries in the past - but had been put off because I've been disappointed so many times by retellings of and sequels to classic novels.  At bargain/sale prices though, it's a risk worth taking.

That's ten!  I think that proves addiction.

Today's offering in BookAddiction's beautiful books stakes a contemporary one.  Every year, for each of those novels shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize, a special, unique binding is commissioned from a leading bookbinder.  The resulting small collection of beautifully bound volumes is usually exhibited at some point in the Victoria and Albert Museum. It is Darkmans by Nicola Barker (published by Fourth Estate, 2007) which was on the Man Booker shortlist in 2007. This one caught my eye for its boldness, striking use of strong colours and the absence of any titles on the cover.  It is brazen and in that is in keeping with Barker's novel, itself an epic and outspoken (and very good) novel set in Ashford, with the action taking place over just a few short days.  The beautiful binding is by Rachel Ward-Sale, founder of Bookbinders of Lewes and a fellow of Designer Bookbinders.