From Bowdler’s Shakespeare to Puffin’s edited Roald Dahl, publishing has often chosen to smooth away awkwardness rather than explain it. But sanitised texts, missing credits and silent rewrites do more than tidy the past — they erase evidence, authorship and the people who made books possible.

Peter Pan, Christopher Robin and Alice became immortal children. The people behind them had to carry those fictional identities into adult life. A chain of literary coincidences links bookshops, publishers, illustrators, family tragedies and two men who might have understood one another but never met.

While writing The Short, Strange Life of Dr John William Polidori, I began to see a strange thread running from the machine-breaking of the 1810s to the current fight against AI scraping. The loom, the vampire and the algorithm may seem unlikely companions — but all three raise the same question: who profits when human skill is harvested by someone more powerful?

A bestseller is not a successful book. It is a measurement. When two million people buy the same novel in the same decade, they are not all responding to the prose style, or the plot, or the cover. They are responding to something the book supplies that ordinary life, in that particular decade, is withholding. The sales figure is evidence of a specific collective hunger. And if you know how to read it, it tells you more about a society than most official records.

Writing is no longer only something authors do. It is also something sold back to them through courses, critiques, webinars, mentoring, self-publishing advice and promises of access. This essay asks when publishing stopped merely selling books to readers and began selling the dream of authorship to writers.

Before Amazon and algorithms, children’s book clubs brought curated, affordable books into homes, schools and workplaces. From Puffin Post to Red House catalogues, this is the story of a vanished reading culture.

The Bologna Children’s Book Fair isn’t just an event — it’s where global children’s publishing decides what survives. From instinct-driven acquisitions to geopolitical tensions, here’s what really happens behind the scenes — and why, even in 2026, nothing has kept the industry away.

Before AR became a buzzword, I built interactive children’s books using webcams and printed pages. Here’s what worked, what failed—and why the market wasn’t ready.

A dish older than poetry. A poet who refused refinement. And a nation that celebrates its greatest writer by addressing a pudding. The curious, ceremonial, and quietly radical history of haggis and the Burns Supper.

What happens when decades of creative labour are repackaged as “the start of an idea”? An industry explainer on attribution, acquisition-led growth, and why visible human authorship matters more than ever — especially in the age of AI.

Auteur is not a pretentious relic. It is a lost word of precision — one that distinguishes vision from branding, authorship from automation, and human intention from machine output. In an age of infinite content, clarity matters. David Salariya

John Baskerville made books that gleam like jet on porcelain — and insisted on being buried standing up. From japanned snuff-boxes to the Cambridge Bible, from wove paper to sharp transitional type, here’s a brisk, book-trade tour of the printer who annoyed London, dazzled Franklin, partnered Mrs Eaves, and prepared the public for Didot and Bodoni.

From the unforgettable scream of "No wire hangers!" to the surreal spectacle of "Piggate," these books dropped bombs on the images of some of the most powerful public figures. This is a look at the moments when books didn’t just make headlines — they remade history.

Boarding school stories endure not because they were ever realistic, but because they offered a fantasy of order—where chaos was dormitory-sized, friendships epic, and growing up happened between cold showers and jam tarts.

Why does the white working-class education gap persist? From lost industries and early language delays to poor attendance and a shrinking reading culture, too many pupils are being failed before they begin. This blog explores the causes, and the practical fixes, that could restore dignity, skills and opportunity.

Look into the world of school stories, from Billy Bunter's misadventures to the classic tropes that still govern the genre. Whether it's overcoming a monster or going on a quest, these narratives hold more than just nostalgia—they hold the keys to understanding class, morality, and personal growth in fiction.

From Queen Victoria’s imagined love children to Princess Margaret’s speculative diagnoses, modern biographies are increasingly blurring the line between storytelling and speculation. But why are journalists letting them?

Ladybird Books taught generations of British children how to read, but the story behind the logo is richer, and more surprising, than you might think. From wartime printing hack to educational empire to bestselling adult spoof, here’s the full Pulp History.

When I began work on The Secret Journal of Victor Frankenstein on the Workings of the Human Body, I wasn’t just adapting Mary Shelley’s classic, I was exhuming it. Shelley, who died in 1851, had no idea her cautionary tale about ambition and monstrosity would spark not just horror films, Halloween masks and bolts-in-the-neck clichés, but an entire mythology. I imagined Victor Frankenstein not as a mad scientist, but as a curious, obsessive student doctor scribbling anatomical

H.E. Marshall’s Our Island Story was once the go-to tale of Britain’s past, kings, queens, and glorious Empire. But in 2025, what kind of story do we really need to tell our children? This blog revisits the 2005 revival campaign and explores what a more inclusive, honest, and compelling national narrative could look like.