Andrew Gimson
`Have your written any books?' I once heard a girl ask Peter Quennell. 'You are very pretty,' he said, 'but not very well educated.' Horror of being rude to authors is not, possibly, the weakest of all reasons for trying to read their work. But when the attempt is made, discouragement tends to follow, for it is found that merely to read one volume by each of those authors there is a risk of meeting will require supreme effort. If anyone feels in need of rest, no doubt brief, before undertaking this task, I recommend as holiday reading two books I came across this year. They are, restfully enough, by dead authors, and once begun would be an effort not to finish: Margot Asquith's Autobiography (Methuen) and The Egoist by George Meredith (OUP). I should now like to tell you what an egoist is . . . .
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