The Incomparable Max

I read far more non-fiction than fiction - I'm particularly fond of reading biographies, autobiographies, diaries and collections of letters. Not to say blogs. All this is partly because most of my reading is done in the bath at 1 am after an exhausting evening of marking and I keep nodding off, which makes it harder to follow a plot.

Anyway, I've recently finished the letters of Max Beerbohm, who was generally a much jollier person, I'd guess, than his photo above would suggest. And pursuing my recent policy of getting other people to write my blog posts for me, I thought I'd give you a flavour of his writing. This isn't exactly a letter; it's an inscription on his book of short stories, "Seven Men" (which I highly recommend, by the way). The Rev. C. Williamson had written to Max B. at his home in Italy to ask him to sign a copy of the book. And so he wrote on the first blank page:

Reverend Sir, I cannot help wondering what your Bishop would say if he knew that you had sent a man who has not the pleasure of knowing you a copy of a book by that man, "thanking him in anticipation" for signing it, wrapping it in brown paper, tying it with string, addressing it, taking it to the post office and posting it. I sign the book and send it back to you with such Christian charity as I can muster.

[And on the title page:]

To dear old C. Williamson - my companion in many a madcap escapade and my accomplice in more than one shady transaction, in the sad bad glad old days before he took Holy Orders.

[And on the next page:]

P.S. I remember hearing many years ago, that in the English countryside a tramp who was well-received at a house left at the gate-post of that house a cabalistic sign in chalk, whereby all subsequent tramps knew that this was a "good" house.

If you are in with collectors of a kind akin to your own, will you please warn them that any books they send me will be promptly chucked into the Mediterranean, where they can be dived for - or not, according to choice?

I like the fact that the Rev. C. kept the book - taking it, let's hope, in the spirit in which it was offered.