Reading matters

I have just picked up Required Writing by Philip Larkin. The writing gives you the feeling of running a warm bath in a 5-star hotel at the start of a month's holiday, armed with a cold glass of champagne. Ahhh and exhale. It is almost impossible not to feel inadequate writing in its aftermath. The same is of course true of all his great early 20th century contemporaries, Auden, Betjeman, Eliot, all who could master both poetry and prose with equal ability. Even his old mate Kingsley could knock out a few decent lines of verse when pushed. Larkin's Jill is one of my favourite novels. What is notable about them all is that all were avaricious readers, a not uncommon trait among literary types you would think. But what of today, are we feeding this English literary legacy? The average reading matter today is more likely to be written, much like this blog, by a complete unpaid amateur, without experience or training. Publishing is, as google is keen to point out, as easy as pushing a button. I can't quite decide if this is a good thing or not. Is it better to relax with Philip, or belt out 500 words on any subject you feel the world needs your view on? Indeed, am I guilty of taking your precious time that could otherwise be spent in Philip's warm bath? Which is better for our children? Perhaps you could let me know. Meanwhile, there is just enough time for a chapter or two.    

The random thoughts of a digital adman in a rapidly changing world....

There is a certain crassness about the Financial Times' supplement "How to Spend It" continuing to be supplied free every week. Surely there is no-one better placed to feel the weak pulse of the current financial times and revise their offering accordingly. Perhaps if it were re-titled "How to Earn it in the First Bloody Place" or "How to Cling on to What Little we all Have Left", I might feel more compassionate towards it. The pages are filled with impossibly expensive and unnecessary adornments; watches, yachts, jewellery, flying holidays in Kenya, handbags ("from £2,000") and other assorted bling usually associated with Russians and rap artists. The current edition features a front cover with a besuited rather smug looking banker up to her middle in a swimming pool. Que? What does the FT hope to achieve by persisting with this supplement? Are there perhaps significant on-going lucrative advertising contracts, the terms of which must be maintained? If so, why don't they charge an extra tenner for it? That would be telling them "How To Spend It".