On David King
In the days before artists brought colour to the cover, the London Review of Books was black and white. Of course, originally, it had no front at all: the first edition, in 1979, was meekly folded into the New York Review of Books. The following year it jumped out of that pouch and into a world where literary journals were routinely typographical. Not all faces around the editorial table lit up when Karl Miller suggested the independent paper should have a giant picture on the cover. You’ll never find enough images, said Mark Boxer. He was wrong about that.
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