A Literary Giant to Reckon With

Brian Sewell contrary to public perception in certain quarters is a most edifying character one is unlikely to come across in the competitive art world.


When Quartet became his publisher, we were warned by many of his detractors that he would prove to be hard to handle and will ultimately cause us no end of grief . The reverse as it happened turned out to be  untrue and without foundation.

Having been a publisher since 1976 and encountered many rather pompous and presumptuous authors, I can easily vow that Brian was a meticulous professional who invariably endeavoured to give his best in everything he touched and as a consequence was a joy to deal with.

What was remarkable about him, despite being the most accomplished art critic in the western hemisphere, was his total loyalty and devotion to his friends often to his detriment financially.

I can cite many examples of his generosity and grandiose spirit but feel deep inside that had he been alive today, he would have not wished me to do so.

His death two years ago marked the end of an era where men of his calibre are now rare to find. He was a one-off who defied the establishment and had the courage to call a spade a spade unperturbed by the circumstances that followed many of his pronouncements.

One of his books Naked Emperors, which we published in 2012, is a selection of Brian’s criticism during his tenure at the London Evening Standard and was the first collection to be published in over twenty years and was chosen from his art reviews of exhibitions by English contemporary artists. Most first appeared in the London newspaper for whom he first wrote for in 1984. They are gathered chronologically under artist or institution and discuss nearly every important contemporary English art exhibition for the past quarter of a century. Besides being a record of one man’s developing response to the explosion of blockbuster contemporary art shows and multi-millionaire artist escapades of the past two decades, the reviews’ sequence also reveal how much this often maligned critic did, at first, wish the new establishment well. How he came to see so much as dross or fiddle-faddle, is written with such knowledge, style and humour, readers will also come to understand why mugs with ‘Brian Sewell is fab!’ are on sale in gallery gift shops.

Brian Sewell became a devoted friend with whom I spent many a good time and learnt a great deal from him. As a consequence I miss him terribly.

It is time now, you buy a copy of this book for your library or to give away as a gift. This will give the receiver an insight about a great man who lived for his art in deciphering the good and the mediocre for the benefit of us readers.

May his legacy remain as bright as the full moon on a beautiful summer night.



Size does not always matter, except some claim that men’s willies make a difference when engaged in love-making, whereas bragging about it put some women off and is not considered good gentlemanly etiquette. However, it is a standing joke among the bravest of men that their other half’s have smaller brains. In fact, in this case, size is irrelevant since women perform better in memory tests despite the fact that men do actually have larger brains, experts say. That’s even though men have a higher IQ by nearly 4 points, a study found. The research from the Netherlands was based on MRI scans of almost 900 men and women and found male brains around 14% larger. But experts have previously suggested that women’s brains function more efficiently.

The latest research, led by Erasmus University, found women are less intelligent than men by approximately 3.75 IQ points and do significantly worse in tests of spatial ability. Lead author, Dr Dimitri Van der Linden, said: ‘We found that men’s brains are larger than women’s and our analysis suggests this is the reason for lower average general intelligence across a range of tests. We are aware of previous research suggesting women’s brains are better organised or process information more efficiently, but we did not look at this in our study.’
The study supports the controversial and now broadly forgotten claim by Charles Darwin in the nineteenth century, that men’s brains were larger than those of women. (Darwin once reasoned that a wife was ‘better than a dog anyhow and women’s brains were halfway between that of a child and a man.’)

Today’s scientists have MRI scans to calculate brain volume and past studies have agreed that men’s brains are larger. The latest study took scans and cognitive tests from 896 people aged 22-37 as part of the Human Connectome project. Published in the journal Intelligence, the research says men had higher scores on most measures of intelligence, including spatial awareness. Women did better in memory tests including recalling a sequence of 18 pictures, but analysis found this made no difference to their general intelligence.

Brain size in the sexes is hotly debated in the scientific community. Dr Joseph Devlin, head of experimental psychology at University College, London, said: ‘This is a well-researched study but the evidence is not strong enough to prove that larger male brains are more intelligent than smaller female brains, which makes it a leap of faith using a measure of general intelligence which has little basis. Men’s and women’s brains are different and we know spatial navigation is slightly better in men than women, while women tend to have a better vocabulary. But we should be sceptical of claims that men are smarter than women, especially when there is little to no evidence for that and lots of evidence to the contrary.’

Research at the University of California found women’s brains are smaller, but could perform more quickly because of better connection between brain cells. Having interviewed hundreds of women in my own case I believe that women have a higher degree of intelligence when it comes to analysing a question and formulating a response quicker than most men, and they are certainly more efficient when handling a crisis.

Perhaps the smaller size of their brains is more organised, which enables them to move faster. Could it be that it reinforces the view that small can be beautiful?


It is often very hard to follow in the footsteps of your father, especially if he happens to be the great composer Mozart. Franz Xaver Wolfgang Mozart was four months old when his famous father died aged 35 – and his whole life became a struggle to live up to the Mozart name, an Austrian exhibition reveals.

One of only two of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s six children to survive to adulthood, Franz Xaver was picked by his mother, Constanze, to follow in his father’s footsteps, documents at the Mozart Residenz Museum in Salzburg suggest that Constanze was the ultimate pushy parent calling the boy ‘Wolfgang Amadeus’ and hiring piano teachers for him from the age of two.

In 1801, when he was 9, she wrote in his autograph book: ‘A child that offends his parents, one that wishes them bad luck, one that does not seek the blessing of his parents will be publicly cursed by God. His end will be horrible. He will encounter pain and shame. This is a warning to my dear Wowi from his loving Mother.’


His first public performance came at the age 13. ‘Young Mozart’s mother presented him to the public which greeted him with fond applause,’ recorded the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung, a nineteenth century music magazine. ‘He played the great and beautiful concertos by his father in C major in a somewhat slow tempo, yet well and with precision. He also showed a lot of potential.’

Franz Xaver left home at 17 to work as a piano tutor to a wealthy family in Lemberg, today the Ukrainian city of Lviv and spent two decades teaching and performing in Europe, trying in vain to build a reputation. ‘That last spark of genius was missing in him. He was considered a gifted musician and composer but not one of the great ones,’ Armin Brinzing, the curator said.

He died in 1844 and his tombstone was inscribed: ‘May his father’s name be his epitaph as his veneration for him was the essence of his life.’How sad yet moving.


Three things render me sleepless when I contemplate the state of the British economy: a divided government; a failing pound, and a Stamp Duty that’s already having a serious, adverse effect on the property market.

Starting with my first concern, a Tory administration that has truly lost its way – cabinet ministers who seem to relish controversy in Babylonian confusion, shattering policies aimlessly to gain political recognition in a totally incomprehensive language, yet each determined to rule by the grace of God.

Secondly, the pound – once the pride of the British economy – is faltering and is on course to fall below the Euro, a leading City analyst has predicted. British holiday makers will continue to get less for their money on the Continent according to the US investment bank, Morgan Stanley, which claimed the Euro will strengthen as uncertainty around Brexit undermines the pound. As a result, Sterling is likely to reach parity with the Euro before early next year, the Bank said. It has slumped almost 16 percent against the Euro since the EU referendum. It is also forecast that by the end of next March, the Euro will be trading at £1.02.

Thirdly, unless the misguided nincompoops who manage the economy reduce Stamp Duty, the present tenure of the Tory government is likely to be short- lived. A messiah of the Left (as personified by Jeremy Corbyn) will be ushered miraculously to the premiership without fail. Theresa May’s dream of glory will quickly disintegrate, and Britain will be left isolated, back to the days when Labour will revert to statist dogma that I believe has truly had its day.

God help us all!


The trade deficit in the UK is like everything else suffering at present from an instability that is hard to define. No one seems to know where we are going as a result of Brexit, which by and large the divided Tory government is constantly changing gear as it goes along without a specific workable objective to adhere to. The International Monetary Fund has warned that Britain needs to save more, train up its workers and become a more competitive economy to bring down its very large current account deficit. Analysts studied 28 of the world’s largest economies and found the UK had the biggest deficit, running at 4.4% of GDP. The IMF fears that large imbalances between economies could lead to dangerous corrections in future, as well as dangerous political demands to reduce imports.

‘A greater concentration of excess deficiencies in advanced debtor economies may engender protectionist sentiment and raise the risk of disruptive corrections down the road,’ the Fund said. ‘Excess deficit countries should move forward with fiscal consolidation, while gradually normalising monetary policy in tandem with inflation developments and focusing on structural policies that strengthen competitiveness and overall savings. Protectionist policies should be avoided as they are unlikely to reduce external imbalances and are detrimental to domestic and global growth.’

The current account deficit is made up of the trade deficit – as the UK imports more than it exports –combined with the balance of the flows into the economy from overseas investments and out of the UK to foreign investors. Britain’s deficit of 4.4% is the largest, followed by Turkey’s at 3.7% of GDP, Mexico’s at 2.7 % and Australia’s at 2.6%. The US deficit has dropped sharply to 2.4% of GDP, from more than 6% in the pre-crisis years.

UK structural reforms focusing on broadening the skill base and investing in public infrastructures should boost productivity, improving the competitiveness of the economy, the IMF said. ‘Maintaining financial stability through macro-prudential policies should also support private sector savings. These efforts are particularly important in light of expectations that access to the EU market will become more restrictive.’

Britain should get help from the weaker pound, which makes imports more expensive but should boost exports, and also increase the sterling value of earnings on foreign investments. The IMF also said that countries with high current account surpluses should work harder to reduce them. Singapore’s surplus of 19% is the largest, followed by Thailand’s 11.5% and Switzerland’s 10.7%.

I believe we should never kid ourselves that the economy is vibrant, and we need to worry about the escalation of the deficit. Furthermore, with the current instability in world affairs, the future is rather grim and we need to take every conceivable precaution to ensure the health of the economy, without daydreaming that all is well the way we are.

A Spanish Insight

Simon Courtauld has certainly written a winner.

Footprints in Spain, published by Quartet and now in paperback is still attracting a great deal of interest. Highly recommended by critics, it has now garnered the attention of British Airways magazine High Life which it highlighted in their current August issue with the following headline.


From soul searching to sun seeking, Benjamin Disraeli to George Orwell, legendary tiffs to lovers’ trysts, the British have heard the Iberian siren call for centuries. Simon Courtauld paints an idiosyncratic portrait of the two countries’ passionate history.’

If you happen to be travelling on a British Airways flight this August, you will no doubt read the full coverage in its magazine and would certainly hanker to buy a copy of the book which is truly informative as well as highly entertaining.

It’s a good holiday companion and it will also make an affordable Christmas present in the present austerity climate. What more can you ask for…

Part history, part memoir, part travelogue – a fascinating tour of Spain by an author who knows its history and culture inside out. Britons have been drawn to Spain for many centuries. It has played host to bloody wars and legendary love affairs that have shaped the culture, history and psyche of both nations. Over time, Spain has made its mark on many of our best-loved artists, thinkers, writers and royals. Intelligent, humane and idiosyncratic, this book tells the story of great British lives in Spain from the Pyrenees to Gibraltar and A Coruña to Valencia. In doing so, it vividly charts the tumultuous history of Spain, its people and its British visitors, from Catherine of Lancaster to Laurie Lee. Writing with warmth, colour and an eye for a great anecdote, Courtauld gets to the heart of Spanish life and sheds new light on this eternally fascinating country.



Geraldine Road Continued

Sexual activities were seldom a prominent feature of life in Geraldine Road, but then, to everyone’s surprise, my uncle brought home a cockney girl of 27 called Rita. She had a lot of spark and an easy-going nature; she was certainly game for a laugh and for anything else so long as it had an outrageous element to it.

Although they seemed an unlikely couple, my uncle and Rita seemed to blend in a funny sort of way. I immediately took to her. She was undoubtedly attractive, her bosom was an asset and she took good care enhancing its appeal. It projected quite tastefully but with a tantalising effect. The rest of her was not short on womanly appeal either. In fact, Rita was all woman, oozing the sort of raw appeal men yearn for. I was unable to resist asking her whether she had slept with my uncle but the answer was always in the negative.

My uncle remained very awkward and shy with women while his religious conditioning and upbringing dictated abstinence from any physical gratification.

Rita’s style of elocution was East Endish, though it had an added resonance that defied classification. When she spoke, her voice was easy on the ear; the more I got to know her, the more I liked her; the more I liked her, the more I thought I would not mind bedding her if only it weren’t for her relationship with my uncle. Inevitably the idea lingered in my imagination for a while. My intuition told me that the experience might be terrific but the consequences might lead to unpleasantness,

In my perception of Rita I saw her as a woman for all seasons, one to be savoured, relished and not kept selfishly by one man. Nevertheless, despite all pressures to the contrary I steadfastly refused to succumb to temptation. The seduction of Rita was ultimately confined to my dreams.

There was, however, one occasion when I believed I saw Rita and my uncle kissing but it was clear it went no further. On another occasion, after Rita had had a drop or two more drink than usual, she confessed without much probing that the most they had done sexually was to cuddle half naked in bed. My uncle had apparently nestled his head on her naked breasts but, aroused and sweating profusely, he would not go any further. Penetration outside the marital bed would be to him a mortal sin. He believed that the ultimate rewards of heaven must not be sacrificed for unsanctioned pleasurable encounters on earth.

Stinous and I disagreed with this thesis when we discussed the question between ourselves. To us it seemed preferable to have it the other way round. It was far better, we maintained, to enjoy what could be felt and savoured in the here and now rather than look forward to hypothetical gratification in the future. As the saying went, a bird in the hand was worth two in the bush.

For a while afterwards, Rita dominated my thoughts in the form of an oscillation between right and wrong and inwardly, perhaps, I wished I had succumbed to the temptation that was there for the taking. However, it was too late then. Rita had flown the nest, never to be seen again.

After that, life in Geraldine Road settled back into its mundane routine. Conversations at the supper table were devoted mostly to life at the Polytechnic, with special emphasis on how my uncle felt at my appalling behaviour in the lecture room and the laboratory at the Polytechnic. He lamented how it grieved him to have to suffer the indignity of being recognised by everyone there as a blood relation of mine.

Stinous would at first defend me against these oral onslaughts, wondering that there wasn’t a degree of exaggeration in my uncle’s accounts. Later, with a wry smile on his face he would concede that my uncle had a point. I quickly realised that Stinous was not on his side in this linguistic game. He was merely trying to humour my uncle and lower the temperature in his usual canny way. Nevertheless it was a mode of conversation that became boringly repetitious and with its lack of novelty soon deteriorated into total banality.