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Horace Bent Bent’s Notes
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Bent’s Notes Horace Bent @horacebent
In his final diary at this year’s fair, Horace Bent sampled the hospitality at a trio of parties—only ejected from one—and issues a plea for FBF 2024…
Party-hopping Horace urges Hachette u-turn
b s t
o a sweat, dimly lit underground venue for the secret gig of that rights professionals musical supergroup Editorial Standards, the boygenius of book fairs. I was going to compare them to the Traveling Wilburys, as a similar-age supergroup (youngest 75, three dead…), but opted for
boygenius because of Sam Edenborough’s rather bold sartorial choice of Phoebe Bridgers-stle skeleton onesies this FBF.
FRANKFURTER HOF IN DAYLIGHT, AN UNFAMILIAR SIGHT FOR BOOKSELLER DIARIST HORACE BENT
TheBookseller.com
It was packed with the group’s rabid fanbase, “the Standies”, who are loyal, perhaps bordering on the fanatic. And, with the rumoured introduction of a new member, tensions were high. Many reckoned it would be Ice Spice or perhaps Aaron Dessner, but it turned out to be Liane- Louise Smith, no less, the Blair Partnership newbie and former stalwart at MMA. To the many fans of the octagon who read this column, that would be Madeleine Milburn Agency, not mixed martial arts—though I’ve been told by more than one acquiring editor that Smith brings a “ConorMcGregor vibe” to her back-to-backs. It turns out that along with a penchant for pugilism and her signature negotiating-table move (“the guillotine choke”), Li-Lo sings like an angel. I mean, sure, rights-trading is a blast but goodness me this woman needs to be on the West End. Then to the Publishing Scotland stand, with the trade body being even more generous than usual at its annual whisky part. “Have another,” insisted Jenny Brown, pour- ing me roughly a pint of Isle of Arran 25-year-old. “I’m not carting this back.” Turns out that owing to—you guessed it—Brexit, the Publishing Scotland gang had to bring the whisky out to the fair in their luggage. “Yes, this is for my personal consumption,” Marion Sinclair said with a straight face to an incredulous German customs official when he spied the numerous botles in her carry-on. When she further explained she originally hails from the Hebrides, he questioned her no further. Then a stumble into the Hachete part. Completely by accident, you understand. As you are all aware, the Hessicher Hof industry-wide fair opener knees-up the group used to throw in The Before Times has gone (as, of course, has the Hessicher Hof). I was simply trying to wind my way in the Frankfurter Hof’s labyrinthine halls to HC’s Anna O bash, and stepped into what looked like a likely room stuffed with part-goers. Part it was, but a Hachete exclusive. One I was not welcome at; in milliseconds, Richard Kitson ushered me out. He was smiling but there was steel underneath that suggested I would be garroted if I so much as touched a canapé. I happened to bump into other Hacheters and asked if the grand do would ever be reinstated. They have been asked many times, I gather, mostly by agents (who are even greater freeloaders than trade journalists). They responded like folk across the group do nowadays for any query, kicking it up to Hachete’s ultimate authorit: “Oh, you beter ask Maura.” Well, Maura, I’m asking. How about we bring back the big bash for 2024? Sure, it’ll be outrageously expensive, but think of the industry goodwill. I’m RSVPing that I’ll atend right now! Until then…
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