John Baxter (1) (1939–)

John Baxter knows in infinite detail what makes a book special. He says at one point “Rarity can be created, but not value. That has to be achieved. It gathers on a book like the patina on a bronze, over decades of diligence and care.” He says a lots of things really, and says them well. He’s got a lovely way with words. Talking about a friend’s middle-aged daughter “……she was limp and colourless as a house-dress washed to exhaustion.” Then driving home from the airport in Paris, with his ‘new’ French wife (too long a story to tell you here, you’ll have to read the book) his new mother-in-law is driving and having a “machine-gun conversation” with her daughter and “my name surfaced a few times, like a twig in the flood.” Brilliantly descriptive!
Collecting for himself and then becoming a runner, which means hunting down books for other collectors, became his life and eventually led into writing, publishing and broadcasting.
He’s met some interesting people through all this, not always nice people but without doubt, 'interesting'. The middle section of the book isn’t as good as the bits either side in my opinion. However, I've got to admit, the whole of this ‘confession’ couldn't have been written without it.
If you’ve read anything by Clive James where he’s talking about books, for example, Latest Readings, published four years before he died (which I also highly recommend) I’m sure you’ll enjoy this memoir.… (mais)

Better than I thought it was going to be; because I thought it was going to be, "OMG, Paris is so freaking beautiful, this is beautiful, that's beautiful, OMG Paris is so beautiful." Yawn! It wasn't that. It bounced around severely. It was kind of tied together by the author's recounting of how he stumbled into a job giving walking tours of Paris; and some of the fun things he includes on his tours. I liked that all the chapters were super-short. I liked the amount of himself he put into the book - enough so you aren't wondering who in the world is speaking to you; but not so much that it's a Me-Me-Me book, which is also boring. Altogether, you'd think that I'd love it. Ultimately, though I hate to sound like an ugly American or a jaded snob, I went to Paris once and I wasn't all that crazy about it. I prefer Italy.… (mais)