Why will there be no more Carmen Callils?

Whatever one’s attachment to noble causes, it’s more fun to write for the right-wing press

Publishers get rid of talented editors whose worn faces don’t fit their youth-focused world

The lot of the writer today is one of insecurity, wounded pride and dwindling returns

Why has talking about books become the preserve of know-nothing celebrities?

The timid world of BritLit needs to be shaken up by a mutinous new clique of writers

Why is the modern British novel so terribly earnest and irrepressibly juvenile?

Once Twitter takes against you, they will wash their hands of you, Pontius Pilate-style

Done well, book reviews have never been more important

Writers who forget bourgeois aspiration lose a dimension