Thomas Jones

Thomas Jones edits the LRB blog and presents the paper’s podcast. He has been writing for the LRB since 1999, when he was an editorial assistant. Many of his pieces have been Short Cuts. Most of the others have been on contemporary fiction, though he has also written on Romantic poetry, the ancient Greeks and Romans, the climate crisis and Italian politics. He has lived in Italy since 2006. Game Theory, a novel, was published in 2018.

It’s​ 6.30 in the morning and a bus full of passengers is idling in a town square. All is quiet in the January dawn except for the rumbling engine and the cry of a street vendor selling panelle (chickpea fritters). As the bus pulls away, the conductor spots a man in a dark suit running across the square and calls for the driver to wait. The man is about to jump onto the running board...

From The Blog
22 July 2026

Occasionally when the phone rang at the London Review offices in the late 1990s it would be the operator asking if we’d accept a reverse charge call from Bill Johnson in Johannesburg. The first couple of times I checked with a colleague if it was OK to take it. After that I’d just say yes, put it on hold and call across the office to Mary-Kay Wilmers: ‘Big Bill’s on the phone.’ I never thought to ask where R.W. Johnson got his nickname; it certainly suited his voice. Yesterday the paper got an email from his son to say that Johnson had died at home in Cape Town. He was 82.

Before​ he took to writing thrillers in the early 1960s, Len Deighton, who died in March at the age of 97, had worked as a railway clerk, a kitchen porter, a pastry chef, a flight attendant and a commercial artist. Having completed his national service in the RAF he used his demob grant to study at St Martin’s School of Art, going on to the Royal College of Art on a scholarship....

Julius Caesar​ ‘invaded Britain in the hope of finding pearls’. Caesar Augustus ‘wore platform shoes, to make him seem taller than he was’. Tiberius ‘was left-handed, with joints so strong that he could push a finger right through a firm, ripe apple’. Caligula ‘never learned to swim’. Claudius ‘would never let anything come between him...

Enzo Ferrari in his first race, the 1919 Parma to Poggio di Berceto hill climb.

It​ was hot on the tarmac at Vallelunga, in the low thirties centigrade, though not as hot as it had been 24 hours earlier – when the mercury had been pushing forty – and the high humidity of the previous few days had dissipated too. A nice day for a drive, even if sweat was pooling in my...

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