The Book of Wag

By Paul Sidey

A remarkable posthumous South London novel from a legendary editor

Friday, 17 April 2015

From Paul's email diary from his last trip abroad, Mallorca, June 2014

I have got up to watch the dawn over the mountains - how it changes so quickly from orange to a muted freshness. The headlamps of a car wound along the coast road, then suddenly it is no longer night. The day begins. A few lights stay on at the port and in the hills.

It is beautiful the way the coast wiggles down to our hilltop villa, the sail boats arranged in picturesque clusters.

Carol wrote to say how much she loved WAG. Wonders why I used a pseudonym. To get past the distraction of my own name. If we find a publisher, I should prefer Paul Sidey to take the credit or blame for what he wrote. I know the book's many imperfections without false modesty. I know where I have cheated a little bit when I did not know the precise answers. I did not know how to make two separate voices one so merged the two stories. That fitted the interlocking themes and I felt like I was living both lives. The fiction is the truth and vice versa! The truth of the story which is also the book.

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