The Bookseller.com

7th October 2008

Daisy Frost is an agent at the Edward Cecil Literary Agency. She blogs at missdaisyfrost.com.

PJS to Quercus?

04.04.08

Ssssh. I’m typing this in the back row of the Penguin Electronic Rights presentation—lusty Rob Williams is upfront getting all down and digital with us. Every time he says “hard drive”, I feel all faint.

But I can’t concentrate on this techno-babble as I’m waiting for a message from Carla Bruni’s “people” about whether she is signing with me. Publishing is excited at the thought of Mrs Sarko writing a book (cookery, sex tips, Christmas cracker jokes—que sera sera?). My rivals to represent her seem to be Ali “Gets Her” Gunn and Luigi (he only deals in glamour—just ask Alan Titchmarsh). I think Carla loved my idea for some posh Euro-porn (provisionally titled Baciare con la Lingua) which would give Jordan’s bestseller monopoly a run for her money.

The Simon & Schuster 21st birthday bash was like a school party, with the old people feeling like chaperones and the youngsters doing drunken snogging. There was even a birthday cake (designed by Carole Blake’s lovely client Jane Asher) utilising their hideous birthday logo, a rather over-worked speech from Ian Chapman, and then a rocking school disco downstairs. The only thing missing was a clown doing party tricks, but Jack Romanos retired last autumn so we had to entertain ourselves.

Everyone was asking Patrick Janson-Smith which publisher he was joining but he wasn’t letting on, the spoilsport—all to be revealed at the book fair, apparently. If there’s one thing more annoying than publishers becoming agents it is agents becoming publishers. It’s Kate Moss designing for Topshop all over again—an outrageous and unfair advantage. The smart money is on PJS joining Quercus or Macmillan, which frankly could do with an injection of his technicolour bonhomie into its post-Charkin world.

At the disco, it was great to see shy and retiring David “Windy” Miller finally coming out of his shell and lindy-hopping with Louise Greenberg—now flush, of course, with the “success” of moving Tibor Fischer to Alma Books (erm . . . right).

Peter Straus waltzed elegantly with Kate Lyall-Grant and, much, much later, Suzanne Baboneau led a conga of booksellers around Mayfair after performing an intricate but surprisingly sensual tango with Ian. The goody bag was lamer than Heather Mills—what in the hell am I supposed to do with an “S&S are 21” mug? Why not just give everyone a balloon, some cake and a taxi home?

Luckily, there was a black cab waiting outside, so I made a quick getaway—I was rather disconcerted to see it already had £197 on the meter but I kept my head down, mumbled “charge it to my account” and legged it when we reached Notting Hill. Nasty surprise for a certain “C Michel” when the invoice hits her in-tray. Presumably, she’ll put it straight through to expenses.

Oops, I must be typing too loudly on my BlackBerry because Helen “House of” Fraser is giving me a sharp look, so must stop now—I certainly don’t want to miss Rob Williams’ climax. Yum.

Visit Daisy Frost at missdaisyfrost.com. She’ll be writing a daily column at the London Book Fair in The Bookseller Daily.

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