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Book Review of Remembering My Good Friends by George Weidenfeld

Book Review of Remembering My Good Friends by George Weidenfeld REMEMBERING MY G O O D FRIENDS George Weidenfeld HarperCollins, London 1994 p p 4 8 3 ISBN: 0 006 2158566 £20.00 T h e title may be derived from Shakespeare, but it evokes after- dinner speeches, cigar smoke rising from the top table and a general air of false bonhomie. Even more, it evokes memories of the author at one of his parties, greeting you with a warm handshake and a gracious phrase and all the while glancing over your shoulder to note which more famous and successful guests should leceive his full attention. T h e book's index includes ovei 2,000 names; at least half would no doubt qualify foi the title. Affec• tion must be spiead vety thinly to covet such a "field full of folk" T h e pity is that what could have been a peiceptive study of postwai publishing tiends, combined with insights into liteiary and diplomatic circles, full of anecdotes from an intelligent outsidei, ends up as an elongated gossip column, a rollcall of names, many of them puisued by a plump man waving piomises and sometimes even contiacts. I open the book at random - page 161. It mentions Jennie Lee, h e i husband A n e u i i n Bevan, Lady Rams- botham, Kay Graham, Nicholas Davenpoit, his wife Olga, Gavin Faiingdon, Hugh Dalton, the Cfossmans, the Gaitskells, G E M BOOK REVIEW Joad and A i t h u i Koestlei. A new name every thiee lines and nothing significant said about any of them. T h e r e are indeed some diamonds to be dug out of the dross. Chapter Eight opens with the insight: "The process of learning about English life, manners and morals took a long time and was not always easy." Some critics of "Honest George" might comment t h a t the leaming process is not yet complete. But frill maiks to the Austiian immigrant aged nineteen who acquired first a knighthood and t h e n a life peerage. It is a sad commentary t h a t serious publishers who gave much to the trade in difficult years - men like Hamish Hamilton, Ian C h a p m a n of Collins, Paul Hodder-Williams and A l a n Hill of Heinemann - received n o accolade. As George Weidenfeld admits, but, tantalizingly, without giving the financial details, his publishing firm was largely under-capitalized foi most of its life and at times only optimism, good contacts and a taste fot tich women, luckily often lecip- located, kept the leaky vessel bob• bing along. He says in his summing up, "It would be wiong of me not to acknowledge that my lelationships with Biitish liteiaiy agents were often fat from easy. This was because my publishing style was most effective when I acted as an agent myself.." Exactly. N o wondei agents did not take to him. Fiom its eaily days just off t h a t huckstei's alley. New Oxford Stieet, to the office next door to a bingo hall in Clapham, ending its independent life in the street of make-believe and dreams, St Mar• tin's Lane, the author was never closely interested in the engine room of his firm, making sure early copies went out on time, checking t h e travellers' orders, ensuring that invoices were sent promptly to bookshops and the wholesalers, keeping a keen watch o n cash flow. T S Eliot may have measured out his life with coffee spoons; for Geoige Weidenfeld it was to be long distance aiiline tickets and canapes, relying on his loyal staff to keep things going. A n d he has the grace to t h a n k them - in two para• graphs on the penultimate page of his book. But one must not begmdge the man a sense of happy success, of fulfil• ment. Asked what he did in the French Revolution, the aristocrat leplied, "1 suivived" Weidenfeld has done mote t h a n suivive the Nazis; thiough opportunism, an agieeable aii of agreeing with the last speakei and a real flair for ideas, he has wooed "the great and t h e good", published a few of them and almost ended as one himself T h e regret is that his memoirs, which might have been Balzacian, aie as bland as tapioca pudding and equally boiing. George Greenfield 38 LOGOS 6/1 ©WHURR PUBLISHERS 1995 http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Logos Brill

Book Review of Remembering My Good Friends by George Weidenfeld

Logos , Volume 6 (1): 38 – Jan 1, 1995

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Publisher
Brill
Copyright
© 1995 Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands
ISSN
0957-9656
eISSN
1878-4712
DOI
10.2959/logo.1995.6.1.38
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

REMEMBERING MY G O O D FRIENDS George Weidenfeld HarperCollins, London 1994 p p 4 8 3 ISBN: 0 006 2158566 £20.00 T h e title may be derived from Shakespeare, but it evokes after- dinner speeches, cigar smoke rising from the top table and a general air of false bonhomie. Even more, it evokes memories of the author at one of his parties, greeting you with a warm handshake and a gracious phrase and all the while glancing over your shoulder to note which more famous and successful guests should leceive his full attention. T h e book's index includes ovei 2,000 names; at least half would no doubt qualify foi the title. Affec• tion must be spiead vety thinly to covet such a "field full of folk" T h e pity is that what could have been a peiceptive study of postwai publishing tiends, combined with insights into liteiary and diplomatic circles, full of anecdotes from an intelligent outsidei, ends up as an elongated gossip column, a rollcall of names, many of them puisued by a plump man waving piomises and sometimes even contiacts. I open the book at random - page 161. It mentions Jennie Lee, h e i husband A n e u i i n Bevan, Lady Rams- botham, Kay Graham, Nicholas Davenpoit, his wife Olga, Gavin Faiingdon, Hugh Dalton, the Cfossmans, the Gaitskells, G E M BOOK REVIEW Joad and A i t h u i Koestlei. A new name every thiee lines and nothing significant said about any of them. T h e r e are indeed some diamonds to be dug out of the dross. Chapter Eight opens with the insight: "The process of learning about English life, manners and morals took a long time and was not always easy." Some critics of "Honest George" might comment t h a t the leaming process is not yet complete. But frill maiks to the Austiian immigrant aged nineteen who acquired first a knighthood and t h e n a life peerage. It is a sad commentary t h a t serious publishers who gave much to the trade in difficult years - men like Hamish Hamilton, Ian C h a p m a n of Collins, Paul Hodder-Williams and A l a n Hill of Heinemann - received n o accolade. As George Weidenfeld admits, but, tantalizingly, without giving the financial details, his publishing firm was largely under-capitalized foi most of its life and at times only optimism, good contacts and a taste fot tich women, luckily often lecip- located, kept the leaky vessel bob• bing along. He says in his summing up, "It would be wiong of me not to acknowledge that my lelationships with Biitish liteiaiy agents were often fat from easy. This was because my publishing style was most effective when I acted as an agent myself.." Exactly. N o wondei agents did not take to him. Fiom its eaily days just off t h a t huckstei's alley. New Oxford Stieet, to the office next door to a bingo hall in Clapham, ending its independent life in the street of make-believe and dreams, St Mar• tin's Lane, the author was never closely interested in the engine room of his firm, making sure early copies went out on time, checking t h e travellers' orders, ensuring that invoices were sent promptly to bookshops and the wholesalers, keeping a keen watch o n cash flow. T S Eliot may have measured out his life with coffee spoons; for Geoige Weidenfeld it was to be long distance aiiline tickets and canapes, relying on his loyal staff to keep things going. A n d he has the grace to t h a n k them - in two para• graphs on the penultimate page of his book. But one must not begmdge the man a sense of happy success, of fulfil• ment. Asked what he did in the French Revolution, the aristocrat leplied, "1 suivived" Weidenfeld has done mote t h a n suivive the Nazis; thiough opportunism, an agieeable aii of agreeing with the last speakei and a real flair for ideas, he has wooed "the great and t h e good", published a few of them and almost ended as one himself T h e regret is that his memoirs, which might have been Balzacian, aie as bland as tapioca pudding and equally boiing. George Greenfield 38 LOGOS 6/1 ©WHURR PUBLISHERS 1995

Journal

LogosBrill

Published: Jan 1, 1995

There are no references for this article.