Apparently an attempt is being made to rehabilitate Crompton as a writer for adults. They had aged well then - this early one was first published in 1924 - and fifty years later again they are still standing up as fresh, fun and elegantly written. William I bought because I adored these books as a kid and haven't read them since the 1960s. Some of it I bought out of sheer curiosity, authors like Barbara Pym I'd never read, but perhaps I should. Rich or not, this was a family which had loved reading over hundreds of years and here were items from the 1920s to 1970s or thereabouts, reflecting their interest in English literature for young and old.
A few of the items, though valueless, had the emblem of the house upon them, which is why I could tell what they were. But the dregs of the books, as well as other very minor bits ended up in the stock of one of the sellers I frequent at the open air book markets in Geneva. The dispersal of the expensive chattels of the estate, including the better books, was undertaken by one of those auction houses that specialises in the disposal of rich history. Early last year I came upon the dregs of the library of a very wealth Swiss family.
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