I don’t, on the whole buy books. We have splendid public libraries here in Liverpool and I’ve spent all of my life steadily reading my way through them. Knowing that by the time my life comes to its end there will still be many thousands of books, more than could be fitted into a typical Liverpool terraced house like the one I live in, that I still won’t have got round to.
The only regular exception to this non-purchasing policy I’ve made over the years is when the books are about Liverpool. I don’t mean those ‘Wasn’t life quaint in the past?’ picture-books that seem to get produced about everywhere. I mean books like the one I’m going to show you today. Interesting, quirky even and found, as often as not in second-hand shops.
Let’s go back to Liverpool in 1948.
The Cathedral is still far from finished and the river is busy with traffic. An apparently idyllic scene. Except of course that we’re three years after the end of the second great war of the 20th century and much of Liverpool is in ruins. Continue reading