COUNTRY LIFE IS GOING TO THE DOGS

Simon Courtauld, a former editor

of the Field, laments the debasing of a much-loved British institution

THE magazine Country Life is — or rather was — rather like a listed building: well- constructed, a fine example of its period, unspoilt by ugly modern appendages. It established a remarkable formula for suc- cess, earning substantial revenue from that part of the magazine which also pleases the readers most (an unusual coincidence): the estate agents' advertisements of desir- able country houses for sale.

But changes are afoot. Due to the slump in the property market far fewer houses are being advertised, and Country Life's new editor, Clive Aslet, the man now responsible for this bit of the heritage, is daring to tamper with the fabric.

I always thought it was axiomatic that the best thing an editor could do with Country Life was nothing. Once the reader has got past all those delectable pho- tographs of houses — to many men they are like beautiful women: you want them, you dream about them, but you will never have them — there are more pretty pic- tures to look at, of furniture, paintings, interiors of grand houses, gardens and shrubs.

If you are determined to read some- thing, there is always Christopher Lloyd's `In My Garden' or a long architectural article — suitable for reading, or starting to read, after Sunday lunch. Above all, Country Life is essentially about the endur- ing things of life. It is not about people (except those seen in the hunting field) or about problems (except those which occur at the bridge table).

But strange things have been happening since Aslet took over at the beginning of this year. Two weeks ago the cover of Country Life showed an illustration sup- posedly of a landowner (he looked more like a gamekeeper) looking through binoc- ulars at his house and estate. The accom- panying headline was, 'Fifty Top Landowners Open Their Hearts'. Apart from the vulgarity of the description, they did no such thing. Inside the magazine, about a dozen (from a survey of 50) gave their views on the future of their estates, mostly in the form of brief quotations of no more than one sentence.

`Quality of Life: What Do Bears Think?' was the front cover line on one issue of the magazine in January. Another cover showed a map of Europe dotted with stars, and the line, 'All the most sparkling events One can almost feel the dread hand of the marketing men. No doubt manage- ment has been looking at the figures (sales down by 15 per cent to 42,000 in two years) and has decided that Country Life should be going after a younger reader- ship. The patter is only too easy to imag- ine: 'The magazine should be more people-led . . . wildlife is always a,good subject . . . '

Whether or not Aslet, who is an archi- tectural writer, subscribes to these views, that is the impression he is giving, and it is almost too depressing for words. Has no one reminded the management of IPC (which owns Country Life) of the fate of Punch when it changed its formula in order to appeal to 'the young'? And how many 'young people' are going to pay out £108 for a year's subscription, anyway?

Several of Country Life's regular fea- tures — the articles on houses, hunting, gardening and sale-rooms — remain unchanged. But they now sit oddly with those pages that are laid out rather like a newspaper diary column, dotted with pho- tographs of 'in' people and small blocks of text. The weekly sports articles have disap- peared altogether.

No wonder some long-standing readers are deciding they have had enough. Per- haps the news has yet to reach Country Life's offices in south London, but I have been hearing a lot of discontent recently in the shires. One Shropshire landowner, prodding his finger at an article on 'role- playing adventure games' with pictures of people dressed up as monsters, told me last week: 'I have taken Country Life for 40 years, but not for this sort of rubbish. Country Life should be different. It is very sad, but I don't think I can take it any more.'

Why fool around with the editorial for- mula when the real reason for the decline in circulation is the decline in the number of paid advertisements for houses? The most widely read, or looked at, section of the magazine has been reduced to barely a third of its size four years ago — which surely explains why some people do not think it worth buying at the moment. Before the recession there would have been 60-70 pages of property advertising at this time of year, and well over 100 in the summer months. Last week Country Life had 24 pages of houses, and during January and February no more than 15, including several properties which had already appeared in the magazine last year.

Rather than make short-sighted changes and risk alienating the existing readership, Country Life would do better to wait until the recession comes to an end, the property market and the house advertisements pick up again, and the readers, whether prospective buyers or just dreamers, return. Alternatively, the magazine could bring this about more quickly by cutting the full-page advertising rate from its present level of £2,500 per page. One estate agent told me this week that he had many clients with houses for sale who are just not prepared to pay such a sum, 'up-front', for the privi- lege of being in Country Life.

Of course, it will be said, some readers will always grumble at change and then soon get used to it. It depends on the change. When Jenny Greene — a woman! — became editor of Country Life in the mid-Eighties, there were rumblings of revolt both from readers and contributors. The hunting correspondent, J.N.P Watson, took me out to lunch to ask whether there might be a place for him at the Field, of which I was then editor. But he had no cause for alarm: Miss Greene made a few cosmetic changes, but she did not abandon the formula.

The most noticeable change was made to the traditional full-page photograph of a girl of (relatively) good family who was about to get married. Sensibly enough, Miss Greene chose to publish rather more photographs of people who have made some contribution to the country.

But last week that prime position was occupied by a woman whose connection with country life was hard to identify. She is Baroness Issy van Randwyck, 'Dutch, but widely travelled . . . a cabaret artist who will be singing at the Pizza on the Park, London'. She also appeared last week in Hello! magazine, where it was learned that her London show is called 'Red Hot and Dutch', that she used to sing at the transvestite bar Madame Jojo's and that she is friendly with the Duchess of York's Texan chum, Steve Wyatt.

Oh dear, oh dear.