At a library sale yesterday, I picked up a whole heap of old historical novels, many of them from the 1950’s and 1960’s. One of them was The Last Love, a 1963 novel by Thomas Costain about Napoleon’s exile. I hadn’t heard of it before, but I’ve read Costain’s The Three Edwards, and this looked interesting, so I grabbed it. Only when I was admiring my stack of books later in the evening did I see what a gem I’d found, because of this picture of the author on the dust jacket:
A man eating dinner with his cat (and judging from the size of that feline, that cat’s enjoyed a lot of authorial leftovers). Now isn’t that a lot more fun than the usual solemn author photograph?
Speaking of authors’ bodies, I was looking at the searches via which people have reached my website and found this one:
susan s thigh stories
I hope the person who came to my website thusly wasn’t too disappointed, but I very much suspect he was.