I even planned to visit Penguin, where I was warned the building resembled a national lockdown as every security measure was taken on account of Salman Rushdie. Other publishers, like Vintage and Granta, were just launching, with all the wild energy of an MTV video. Some had venerable names like Faber and Faber, whose slim poetry editions of my heroes lined my shelves with their demure, lower-case colophon: ff. Needless to say, I was thrilled to have this opportunity and immediately started making arrangements to visit all the major publishers I could. I was an associate editor at the time, meaning I had just started acquiring books for my New York publishing company’s list and wrote a lot of flap copy and the like. IN 1987, I WAS THE RECIPIENT OF A TONY GODWIN PUBLISHING Fellowship, which gave a young editor (I believe you had to be under thirty-five) the opportunity to travel to the U.K.
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