Unlike some other reproductions of classic texts (1) We have not used OCR(Optical Character Recognition), as this leads to bad quality books with introduced typos. (2) In books where there are images such as portraits, maps, sketches etc We have endeavoured to keep the quality of these images, so they represent accurately the original artefact. Although occasionally there may be certain imperfections with these old texts, we feel they deserve to be made available for future generations to enjoy.

Unlike some other reproductions of classic texts (1) We have not used OCR(Optical Character Recognition), as this leads to bad quality books with introduced typos. (2) In books where there are images such as portraits, maps, sketches etc We have endeavoured to keep the quality of these images, so they represent accurately the original artefact. Although occasionally there may be certain imperfections with these old texts, we feel they deserve to be made available for future generations to enjoy.

Unlike some other reproductions of classic texts (1) We have not used OCR(Optical Character Recognition), as this leads to bad quality books with introduced typos. (2) In books where there are images such as portraits, maps, sketches etc We have endeavoured to keep the quality of these images, so they represent accurately the original artefact. Although occasionally there may be certain imperfections with these old texts, we feel they deserve to be made available for future generations to enjoy.

Unlike some other reproductions of classic texts (1) We have not used OCR(Optical Character Recognition), as this leads to bad quality books with introduced typos. (2) In books where there are images such as portraits, maps, sketches etc We have endeavoured to keep the quality of these images, so they represent accurately the original artefact. Although occasionally there may be certain imperfections with these old texts, we feel they deserve to be made available for future generations to enjoy.

Unlike some other reproductions of classic texts (1) We have not used OCR(Optical Character Recognition), as this leads to bad quality books with introduced typos. (2) In books where there are images such as portraits, maps, sketches etc We have endeavoured to keep the quality of these images, so they represent accurately the original artefact. Although occasionally there may be certain imperfections with these old texts, we feel they deserve to be made available for future generations to enjoy.

Unlike some other reproductions of classic texts (1) We have not used OCR(Optical Character Recognition), as this leads to bad quality books with introduced typos. (2) In books where there are images such as portraits, maps, sketches etc We have endeavoured to keep the quality of these images, so they represent accurately the original artefact. Although occasionally there may be certain imperfections with these old texts, we feel they deserve to be made available for future generations to enjoy.

Unlike some other reproductions of classic texts (1) We have not used OCR(Optical Character Recognition), as this leads to bad quality books with introduced typos. (2) In books where there are images such as portraits, maps, sketches etc We have endeavoured to keep the quality of these images, so they represent accurately the original artefact. Although occasionally there may be certain imperfections with these old texts, we feel they deserve to be made available for future generations to enjoy.

'Sympathetic and wonderfully perceptive . . . a heartbreaking read' NICK COHEN, Critic 'Wise, witty and empathetic . . . outstanding' JIM CRACE 'A fascinating treatment of the age-old problem of writers and drink which displays the same subtle qualities as William Palmer's own undervalued novels' D. J. TAYLOR An 'enjoyable exploration of an enduringly fascinating subject . . . [Palmer] is above all a dispassionate critic, and is always attentive to, and unwaveringly perceptive about the art of his subjects as well as their relationship with alcohol . . . [his] treatment is even-handed and largely without judgement. He tries to understand, without either condoning or censuring, the impulses behind often reprehensible behaviour' SOUMYA BHATTACHARYA, New Statesman 'A vastly absorbing and entertaining study of this ever-interesting subject' ANDREW DAVIES, screenwriter and novelist 'In Love with Hell is a fascinating and beautifully written account of the lives of eleven British and American authors whose addiction to alcohol may have been a necessary adjunct to their writing but ruined their lives. Palmer's succinct biographies contain fine descriptions of the writers, their work and the times they lived in; and there are convincing insights into what led so many authors to take to drink.' PIERS PAUL READ Why do some writers destroy themselves by drinking alcohol? Before our health-conscious age it would be true to say that many writers drank what we now regard as excessive amounts. Graham Greene, for instance, drank on a daily basis quantities of spirits and wine and beer most doctors would consider as being dangerous to his health. But he was rarely out of control and lived with his considerable wits intact to the age of eighty-six. W. H. Auden drank the most of a bottle of spirits a day, but also worked hard and steadily every day until his death. Even T. S. Eliot, for all his pontifical demeanour, was extremely fond of gin and was once observed completely drunk on a London Tube station by a startled friend. These were not writers who are generally regarded as alcoholics. 'Alcoholic' is, in any case, a slippery word, as exemplified by Dylan Thomas's definition of an alcoholic as 'someone you dislike who drinks as much as you.' The word is still controversial and often misunderstood and misapplied. What acclaimed novelist and poet William Palmer's book is interested in is the effect that heavy drinking had on writers, how they lived with it and were sometimes destroyed by it, and how they described the whole private and social world of the drinker in their work. He looks at Patrick Hamilton ('the feverish magic that alcohol can work'); Jean Rhys ('As soon as I sober up I start again'); Charles Jackson ('Delirium is a disease of the night'); Malcolm Lowry ('I love hell. I can't wait to go back there'); Dylan Thomas ('A womb with a view'); John Cheever ('The singing of the bottles in the pantry'); Flann O'Brien ('A pint of plain is your only man'); Anthony Burgess ('Writing is an agony mitigated by drink'); Kingsley Amis ('Beer makes you drunk'); Richard Yates ('The road to Revolutionary Road'); and Elizabeth Bishop ('The writer's writer's writer').

The Good Republic is an unnamed Baltic state. Its geography is important, sandwiched, for a hellish part of the twentieth-century, between two totalitarian behemoths, Nazi Germany and Communist Russia. The central character of the novel is Jacob Balthus, a sort of Everyman, neither hero nor villain, but, in the end, a tragic victim of the two tyrannies that, at different times, overran his country.

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""This was William Palmer's first novel published in 1990. It was timely then, and because of its subtle and profound handling of perennial moral issues, is no less timely now. For those of us living in less turbulent times and in countries unused to invasion, it forces the uncomfortable question, 'What would I have done?'.

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""The novel rightly attracted thoughtful, enthusiastic, and slightly conflicting reviews on publication.

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""'Palmer is a master of his complex material. The Baltic country itself - the capital with its Old Town and Jewish Shops, the coast with its pine-fringes and little islands - is palpably there, and makes the moral drama of Jacob and his associates the more compelling. ' Paul Binding, "Independent "

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'The Good Republic is a powerful work ... It is not, however, an uplifting tale. One is left with the conviction that the good republic can be defined as that which leaves its citizens to tend to their own vanities, trivialities and banalities. As Mr Palmer notes in the narrative: ''The Chinese say it is a curse: 'May you live in interesting times.' '' Jonas Bernstein, "Washington Times" ""

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"'"The achievement of the novel lies in the forgiveness it insists upon. Jacob does immense harm. But he is gentle and vulnerable. His anguished prevarications make him infinitely more likeable than the stronger and more principled characters who use and betray him. Jacob, too, is one of the victims of history.' Dinah Birch, "The Times "

Working as a news photographer in 1930s Berlin, Walther Klinger becomes, by a vicious twist of fate, a society photographer for the new aristocracy of the Nazi party. Walther's complicity makes him increasingly cynical and guilty, so that, for him, the coming of the war is almost a relief.

'Absorbing ... an eminently successful cautionary tale about the function and possible dangerous malfunctions of Art.' Patrick Skene Catling, "Spectator"

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'A persuasive tale of sex and Nazism (love and its negation), as well as an intriguing argument about the adequacy of images to carry the truth of what they portray ... Palmer painstakingly reveals a sadly cruel and believable vision.' Tom Deveson, "Sunday Times"

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'William Palmer's excellent fourth novel ... is an impressive study of the effect of totalitarianism on the average emotional life.' D. J. Taylor, "Independent "

Four Last Things is a collection of short stories, a brilliant collection of short stories. There is nothing of the occasional here, nothing of the secondary, these short fictions rank not just with William Palmer's own novels but with the best work in this medium over the last fifty years. In the title story, the longest, Cornelius Marten, an ageing, forgotten, booze-sozzled author reviews his life in the company of a young researcher and his girlfriend. Updating the Christian Catechism for our secular age, he enumerates the four last things as being: First Love, Friendship, Betrayal and Death. He takes each of these as hooks upon which to hang reminisces of his past. He resurrects his first lover, his closest friend, his early poetry and his wartime job, in each case releasing memories of pain and betrayal and unsatisfactory conclusions. The final story, Performance, Performance, is the shortest. To say it is based on the great jazz saxophonist Coleman Hawkins only allows this copywriter to show off. The name of the musician doesn't matter, in a mere six pages a perfect distillation of the creative temperament is conjured. Not only should it appear in all Jazz anthologies, it should appear in all anthologies of short stories, it is fautless. 'On the strength of his previous books, it was to be expected that Palmer would produce something exceptional in the realm of the short story. The depth and eloquence of this fine collection, however, might surprise even the most ardent admirers of his novels. He revels in character and language, in the gradual, intricate revelation of plot-lines and themes ...' Paul Sussman, Independent on Sunday 'The strength of these robustly elliptical stories is that, in other hands, they might have been stretched into novels, even adequate novels but certainly not as haunting.' Christopher Hawtree, Independent

'Sympathetic and wonderfully perceptive . . . a heartbreaking read' NICK COHEN, Critic 'Wise, witty and empathetic . . . outstanding' JIM CRACE 'A fascinating treatment of the age-old problem of writers and drink which displays the same subtle qualities as William Palmer's own undervalued novels' D. J. TAYLOR An 'enjoyable exploration of an enduringly fascinating subject . . . [Palmer] is above all a dispassionate critic, and is always attentive to, and unwaveringly perceptive about the art of his subjects as well as their relationship with alcohol . . . [his] treatment is even-handed and largely without judgement. He tries to understand, without either condoning or censuring, the impulses behind often reprehensible behaviour' SOUMYA BHATTACHARYA, New Statesman 'A vastly absorbing and entertaining study of this ever-interesting subject' ANDREW DAVIES, screenwriter and novelist 'In Love with Hell is a fascinating and beautifully written account of the lives of eleven British and American authors whose addiction to alcohol may have been a necessary adjunct to their writing but ruined their lives. Palmer's succinct biographies contain fine descriptions of the writers, their work and the times they lived in; and there are convincing insights into what led so many authors to take to drink.' PIERS PAUL READ Why do some writers destroy themselves by drinking alcohol? Before our health-conscious age it would be true to say that many writers drank what we now regard as excessive amounts. Graham Greene, for instance, drank on a daily basis quantities of spirits and wine and beer most doctors would consider as being dangerous to his health. But he was rarely out of control and lived with his considerable wits intact to the age of eighty-six. W. H. Auden drank the most of a bottle of spirits a day, but also worked hard and steadily every day until his death. Even T. S. Eliot, for all his pontifical demeanour, was extremely fond of gin and was once observed completely drunk on a London Tube station by a startled friend. These were not writers who are generally regarded as alcoholics. 'Alcoholic' is, in any case, a slippery word, as exemplified by Dylan Thomas's definition of an alcoholic as 'someone you dislike who drinks as much as you.' The word is still controversial and often misunderstood and misapplied. What acclaimed novelist and poet William Palmer's book is interested in is the effect that heavy drinking had on writers, how they lived with it and were sometimes destroyed by it, and how they described the whole private and social world of the drinker in their work. He looks at Patrick Hamilton ('the feverish magic that alcohol can work'); Jean Rhys ('As soon as I sober up I start again'); Charles Jackson ('Delirium is a disease of the night'); Malcolm Lowry ('I love hell. I can't wait to go back there'); Dylan Thomas ('A womb with a view'); John Cheever ('The singing of the bottles in the pantry'); Flann O'Brien ('A pint of plain is your only man'); Anthony Burgess ('Writing is an agony mitigated by drink'); Kingsley Amis ('Beer makes you drunk'); Richard Yates ('The road to Revolutionary Road'); and Elizabeth Bishop ('The writer's writer's writer').