Floated like a butterfly, stung like a bee, a shou

I wanted to blip this photo of the edition of Chinua Achebe's masterpiece, Things Fall Apart, that I carried throughout the London Marathon last April.
I was running the marathon to raise money for World Book Night and the Book Trade Charity and it seemed appropriate that I was holding this book aloft as I ran. By the end of the 26.2 miles I was the living embodiment of the novel's title.

I met Chinua a couple of times, both of which were experiences I will never forget. We published one book together, a beautiful book called Home and Exile which is as close to his memoir as we will ever get. He was also under contract for writing a book for our myths series, a series in which we ask great writers from around the world to retell a myth of their choosing over 30,000 words. I think this book will never see the light of day unless I am in for a great surprise and Chinua wrote it. That would be amazing!! One can but dream.

His death on Friday the 22nd March saw the end of the life of one of the most significant writers of the 20th century. It is hard to overstate the importance or influence of Things Fall Apart in redefining the very idea of the African novel. But beyond what he was capable of on the page, Chinua Achebe had a beautiful, warm , wise, uncompromising and playful spirit. He was one of the good guys.