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.

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.

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.

In 1961, Billy Bunter left Greyfriars and headed for Butlin’s. It sounds absurd—but this curious crossover reveals a moment of marketing brilliance, class collision, and cultural change in post-war Britain.