Who wasn’t a Clive James fan?
Glowing anecdote laden obits to the Anglicised Aussie revealed one of selling skill;
I was the editor of the pretentious student magazine Granta, and he’d got a sheaf of papers in his hand which he thrust at me: not aggressively, but certainly not with the timidity that most of us would feel if we offered our poems for publication … I said I’d read them later.
“No, have a look now.”
Reading the first four lines alone enough for the buyer to be sold.
Still sending that precious pdf blind?