Biographies

1st Edition. Publication 2002.
Copies: Cased not limited, 150 leather
Extent: 392pp
Size: 250 x 140mm
Binding: Cased with dust-jacket or leather
Illustrations: Line drawings and photographs throughout
More info on... Bernard Venables
A Stream of Life
Bernard Venables
The autobiography of possibly the greatest angler/writer of all time. With a life that spanned the greater part of the twentieth century, from 1907 to 2001, Bernard's recollections include his earliest memories of childhood, his first jobs as a commercial artist in London and his ground-breaking editorial achievements with Angling Times, Mr Crabtree and Creel magazine. Described by some as a visionary, Bernard had an intense love of the countryside and the gentle art of angling. (The leather copies have marbled endpapers and are presented in a slipcase.)
'For some time it had been growing into consciousness that I was restless; Angling Times had subsided into a routine; its original founding feeling of adventure had passed. It was successful; it needed little further creativity from me. Itchingly I needed again to be creative . . . Now with sudden clarity I saw what so greatly I was urged to do. I must found a magazine. It must be a beautiful magazine. The thought of that was irradiating.'
'It may be seen now that Mr Crabtree was really somebody not of my devising . . . He was involuntary; he emerged unbidden from me, was essentially of me, was self-creating. He had innocence; the innocence was mine.'
'For some time it had been growing into consciousness that I was restless; Angling Times had subsided into a routine; its original founding feeling of adventure had passed. It was successful; it needed little further creativity from me. Itchingly I needed again to be creative . . . Now with sudden clarity I saw what so greatly I was urged to do. I must found a magazine. It must be a beautiful magazine. The thought of that was irradiating.'
'It may be seen now that Mr Crabtree was really somebody not of my devising . . . He was involuntary; he emerged unbidden from me, was essentially of me, was self-creating. He had innocence; the innocence was mine.'









