Horace Bent: ‘Where’s my cosy fantasy at?’

Wie geht’s, Schätze? Right, to the usual reckoning: what do you have down as your Book of the Fair™? Some might say it was World Wide Web creator Sir Tim Berners-Lee’s tome. Because getting the story from the CREATOR of pretty much what drives the world’s discourse and economy is a pretty big deal, right?

But I think we can’t look past Hope by Pope Francis. Or “Big Frank”, as I believe he is called by his teammates on Vatican City FC when he leads that 11’s front line in the sort of Thomas Müller false-nine striker role. I suppose if the Buenos Aires-born Francis ever scores a “hand of God” goal, it might be slightly different than that other Argentinian’s more famous one.

I was surprised, though, to discover that Hope is going to be a spicy and swoon-worthy enemies-to-lovers, forced-proximity, fake-relationship, elemental-magic, dark academia romantasy. But, hey, how else is an 87-year-old pontiff going to connect with Gen Z? (I may have conflated Francis’ book with another. It’s been a long week.)

I jest. I am fully aware Hope is El Papa’s memoir, which the global publishers are saying is the first from a sitting pontiff. Which I thought was incorrect, though it seems Pope Leo X’s 1521 bestseller Diet of Worms (world all-language rights, excluding audio, with J Gutenberg if
you’re interested) must have been some kind of radical paleo/no-carbs nutrition and weight-loss title. The Atkins Diet of its day, I guess.

Anyway, just how happy is Pope Francis in joining Viking, and vice-versa? I ask as there was a decided lack of the usual stuff (guff?) of febrile book fair deal stories: the embarrassing level of mutual admiration quotes from acquirer and acquiree. You know, the kind of effusive pufferies so over the top they’d make the luvviest of West End luvvies blush.

Where was Francis’ “I couldn’t be in better hands with Daniel and his team at PRH. I can’t wait to board the Viking ship to sack and pillage the bookshops of Britain”? Where was Daniel Crewe and Shyam Kumar’s fawning response, a la: “We were over the moon when Francis’ manuscript came in our inbox. Hope is propulsive and page-turning and Francis writes like a dream. We can’t wait to share him with the world.” Instead, there were just rather resonant passages about peace and piety. I mean, really, the deep and meaningful has no place at this, or any other, book fair.

But, in the end, perhaps there was no real book of this fair, rather there were books. And they could be found in Hall 5. There you probably saw them, wild-eyed UK acquiring editors careening through the startled Japan and Korean publishers’ stands shouting: “Where’s my cosy fantasy at? Make it slim and whimsical. And does it have anything to do with cats? Or cafés? Might it take place in a bookshop? Or, goodness me, is there any novel that combines all these elements? I already have a translator on-board (though we won’t name them on the cover).”

Too much? Maybe. Bis zum nächsten Mal, Leute. See you at Bologna. Or London. Whichever comes first (they may change dates from now until next spring...).