A NEWSPAPER OF EDITORS.
Former, current and future.
As I must have mentioned sometime in the past - repetition becomes a sadly boring norm nowadays - I have been a reader of i since the first 20p edition in October 2010. It now costs 50p daily throughout the week and 60p on Saturday.
So is it still a worthwhile buy?
To my mind, yes; though, for my sins, I have always preferred good writing to political bullshit and this baby of The Independent seems to have survived its first six years (1) by being a model of good writing and (2) by refusing to pursue any particular party line. As an admirer of good journalism and a political non-believer, that suits me.
The first editor of the paper was Simon Kelner and he is still a regular i columnist. He was followed as editor by Stefano Hatfield in 2011 and the current incumbent, Oliver Duff, in 2013.
Stefano (who is now global editorial director at John Brown Media – a huge job I imagine), continues to make a small (about 500 words) contribution every Monday. Oliver's daily Letter from the Editor
is now a master class in democracy in that it is often written by the Assistant Editor, Deputy Editor, Political Editor, Chief Reporter, i Correspondent or an Expert in one thing or another. I enjoy all that and just can't wait for the views of i's Hyde Park Corner expert, Piccadilly At Midnight expert, Posh Penthouse Toffs expert, or (and I might even offer my own services for this) Fulminating Old Farts expert.
In addition to the above mentioned cadre of journalistic luminaries, the illustrious Andreas Whittam Smith (original editor of The Independent) and the ubiquitous Janet Street Porter (former editor of just about everything) contribute regular articles to the paper.
The joy of this grand editorial line-up is that none of them fits the screenwriter Danny Brocklehurst's wonderful description of an unseen editor in the TV series Exile: “He couldn't write fuck on a dusty blind.” Any of this lot could and, given a dusty blind as the sole outlet for their talent, probably would (with the obvious exclusion of the lofty Sir Andreas of course).
This much is for sure: had I been a journalist working for any one of 'em I'd have made sure I went back with a good story - even if I'd had to rob a bloody bank myself.
So why have I taken another look at i now?
Well, the newspaper world has been in such disarray since Murdoch scuppered Fleet Street that I wonder how much longer BRITAIN'S FIRST AND ONLY CONCISE QUALITY TITLE can survive.
Gone are the days when the likes of William “Cassandra” Connor wrote a column in the Daily Mirror for thirty years (broken only by his four years in the army during WW2).
Now it seems more likely to be:
here today...television presenting or the dole queue tomorrow.
There was a time when I, like those awful never-made-it mothers who pushed their kids into the Hollywood circus, would have been delighted to see any of my children get a job in journalism. As it turned out, my two daughters are in teaching and my son in graphic art. Life in their professions is currently uncertain; a career in journalism now seems even more so. Personally there is no regret that the journalistic life eluded me, either. I have my cherished NHS pension. Had I been a newspaper employee my pension would probably have been pinched by Robert Maxwell.
Good luck to all at the little i newspaper anyway. I'll keep buying you daily for as long as you're there and I can afford you. Never have indulged in the annual tickets thingy; I'd have lost the lot in a week around here.
Should have published this post yesterday: forgot there are only thirty days in November.
All being well, back before Christmas.
Mind how you go.
As I must have mentioned sometime in the past - repetition becomes a sadly boring norm nowadays - I have been a reader of i since the first 20p edition in October 2010. It now costs 50p daily throughout the week and 60p on Saturday.
So is it still a worthwhile buy?
To my mind, yes; though, for my sins, I have always preferred good writing to political bullshit and this baby of The Independent seems to have survived its first six years (1) by being a model of good writing and (2) by refusing to pursue any particular party line. As an admirer of good journalism and a political non-believer, that suits me.
The first editor of the paper was Simon Kelner and he is still a regular i columnist. He was followed as editor by Stefano Hatfield in 2011 and the current incumbent, Oliver Duff, in 2013.
Stefano (who is now global editorial director at John Brown Media – a huge job I imagine), continues to make a small (about 500 words) contribution every Monday. Oliver's daily Letter from the Editor
is now a master class in democracy in that it is often written by the Assistant Editor, Deputy Editor, Political Editor, Chief Reporter, i Correspondent or an Expert in one thing or another. I enjoy all that and just can't wait for the views of i's Hyde Park Corner expert, Piccadilly At Midnight expert, Posh Penthouse Toffs expert, or (and I might even offer my own services for this) Fulminating Old Farts expert.
In addition to the above mentioned cadre of journalistic luminaries, the illustrious Andreas Whittam Smith (original editor of The Independent) and the ubiquitous Janet Street Porter (former editor of just about everything) contribute regular articles to the paper.
The joy of this grand editorial line-up is that none of them fits the screenwriter Danny Brocklehurst's wonderful description of an unseen editor in the TV series Exile: “He couldn't write fuck on a dusty blind.” Any of this lot could and, given a dusty blind as the sole outlet for their talent, probably would (with the obvious exclusion of the lofty Sir Andreas of course).
This much is for sure: had I been a journalist working for any one of 'em I'd have made sure I went back with a good story - even if I'd had to rob a bloody bank myself.
So why have I taken another look at i now?
Well, the newspaper world has been in such disarray since Murdoch scuppered Fleet Street that I wonder how much longer BRITAIN'S FIRST AND ONLY CONCISE QUALITY TITLE can survive.
Gone are the days when the likes of William “Cassandra” Connor wrote a column in the Daily Mirror for thirty years (broken only by his four years in the army during WW2).
Now it seems more likely to be:
here today...television presenting or the dole queue tomorrow.
There was a time when I, like those awful never-made-it mothers who pushed their kids into the Hollywood circus, would have been delighted to see any of my children get a job in journalism. As it turned out, my two daughters are in teaching and my son in graphic art. Life in their professions is currently uncertain; a career in journalism now seems even more so. Personally there is no regret that the journalistic life eluded me, either. I have my cherished NHS pension. Had I been a newspaper employee my pension would probably have been pinched by Robert Maxwell.
Good luck to all at the little i newspaper anyway. I'll keep buying you daily for as long as you're there and I can afford you. Never have indulged in the annual tickets thingy; I'd have lost the lot in a week around here.
Should have published this post yesterday: forgot there are only thirty days in November.
All being well, back before Christmas.
Mind how you go.
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