Thank goodness for publishers like Capuchin Classics, preserving books that are hugely important to a small readership.
The latest issue of the New Yorker has an article by Louis Menand (a review of a book about Betty Friedan and The Feminine Mystique) that powerfully addresses the perennial question of “books that changed the world”.
There’s no shortage of these, in living memory, from Rachel Carson’s 1962 classic, Silent Spring, to former Observer writer EF Schumacher’s Small is Beautiful. In the development of feminism, The Female Eunuch by Germaine Greer played a similar role. Every generation throws some up, zeitgeisty publications that express a mood.
“These are books,” writes Menand, “whose significance exceeds anything they actually said. For many people, it doesn’t even matter what they said or why they were written. What matters is that, when the world turned, they were there.”
So far so good. But what – I wondered – about those books for which the world did not turn ? Specifically, what about those books that speak to, and move, us as individual readers, become part of our imaginative landscape, and remain a secret, private pleasure ? ….read more





