There are thousands of publishing brands that mean nothing to even the most dedicated book buyers.  A few, however, make that very rare breakthrough, and become associated in readers’ minds with particular qualities.  Knopf and FSG, for example, stand for me for excellence in literary fiction, to the point where I might buy one of their titles whether I know the author or not.  Among British readers, Faber & Faber has attained a similar status.  For decades it has stood as the preeminent publisher of poetry and literary fiction.  Its list is a roll call of some of the greatest writers of the 20th century: T.S. Eliot, Seamus Heaney, Ted Hughes, W.H. Auden, Thom Gunn, Philip Larkin, Samuel Beckett, Kazuo Ishiguro, Philip Larkin, and many more. The founder’s grandson, Toby Faber, an accomplished author himself, has now written a wonderfully engaging and entertaining account of the company’s history.

The book strings together excerpts from letters and company memoranda, interspersed with explanations and occasionally wry commentary by the author, to tell the story of Faber & Faber from its foundation (originally as Faber & Gwyer) in 1924 to 1989. If that makes it sound dry, I can assure you it isn’t.  Founding a publishing business and running it for decades is hard and risky work, and there were several times in Faber’s history when its survival was threatened, but there was no shortage of fun and one of the enduring memories of reading this book is how committed the company’s leadership has been to publishing the best books, to staying independent, and to enjoying the ride.

There are so many gems from the F&F archive reproduced here, but I have a few favorites.  Even at a distance of more than seventy years, it’s painful to read the rejection letter sent to George Orwell by T.S. Eliot, a letter that deprived Faber not only of Animal Farm but also the chance to publish 1984. Ouch. The Faber reader’s initial assessment of the manuscript that became Lord of the Flies (“Rubbish and Dull. Pointless“.) might have been calamitous if the brilliant Charles Monteith hadn’t thought otherwise. The affectionate friendship between Geoffrey Faber and T.S. Eliot revealed in these pages is nothing short of a revelation to those of us who thought Eliot so buttoned-up as to be incapable of such displays of feeling.  His remarks at Faber’s memorial service are lovely.

F&F is fast approaching its centenary as an independent publishing company.  Anyone who knows anything about the books world will understand what’s required to reach such a milestone.  Luck, for sure.  The royalties the company continues to enjoy from the success of Cats was a piece of immense good fortune that kept Faber afloat in rough weather.  But luck alone is never enough.  Great authors and the ability to spot them and nurture them – that’s been the key to survival and occasional prosperity.  Long may it continue.