Prologue

Into my second month as books editor, but as yet no fantastic bribes have been offered me to commission puff pieces about say, some soap star's autobiography ('simultaneously tearjerking and heartwarming!') or a book about football thugs ('searing insights into the hooligan mindset!'). I may have overpriced my integrity by suggesting that only an island in the Bahamas would buy my gushing praise. Oh well, November's Book section goes the other way by looking at forms of writing that don't get enough attention. Euan Andrews looks at the surprisingly fertile Scottish Sci-Fi scene, and namechecks a good few authors worth sampling. Alec McLeod checks out the talented types at Big Word poetry and enjoys himself way too much, but I forgive him because it's a good piece on the continuing revival of performance poetry. All of this is very lovely and worthwhile, but if anyone reading this is a corrupt publisher who wants to gain unwarranted praise for some pointless slab of text then you should know that I've dropped my price to $50,000 in unmarked bills. And a Ferrari to keep it in, of course… [Keir H]