A good sunset in the cemetery yesterday. I had a walk with Luna, a small, bonkers black spaniel that struck up an instant emotional rapport with Bertie. I likewise warmed to Luna’s owner.
It is sometimes instructive to judge a book by its cover. Nobody could mistake the E Phillips Oppenheim cover in yesterday’s post for a treatise on bee keeping, unless the protagonists are being stung.
PG Wodehouse was prolific and successful but there was another genre in the first half of the last century – between the wars – and those authors made more money. Edgar Wallace and Somerset Maugham rivalled our subject today in popularity and earnings.