Some while ago I posted, in connection with HG Well's Kipps, about the phenomenon of writers who produce books about central characters who, far from being an idealised and glamorous version of themselves, are quite the reverse: someone who could notpossibly be the person who is writing the book. Artie Kipps is not only fairly dim and gullible, he ( Read more... )

While away last week one of the books I read was Kipps by H. G. Wells - I thought I might have read it once many years ago, but I don't think I did (I think it must have been The History of Mr Polly), in spite of the Folkestone setting (not just places like the Leas, but even some of the shops mentioned were still around in my childhood - Plummer ( Read more... )