Philip Larkin is not the best poet in HMP Norwich, but could console himself by licking a colouring book. The effects of high-speed rail would be familiar to Dickens. Martin Amis’s complaints would be familiar to Proust. John Fowles’s desk is emigrating to Texas. Ebooks are indeed the wild frontier; and Google might not be the bloke in the white hat. Shouting at critics remains unwise.
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