James Clarke

A tribute to my brother, Jeremy Clarke

Jeremy, left, and James on Dartmoor

My big brother Jeremy Clarke, or ‘Jum’ as he is affectionately known by me and my sister, was the most voracious reader of books you’ll probably ever meet. He will be known to most of you as a writer – The Spectator’s Low Life columnist – but to me he was a reader.  He had hundreds upon hundreds of books and had read them all at least twice. 

He read standing up, sitting cross-legged in a chair, lying on his bed through the night or throughout the day, with brief pauses for mundane physical necessities such as eating a meal or making a cup of tea or going to the toilet. I think he could even go a long time without those things if it was a good book. I suppose it’s what enabled him to write so well. 

He rarely referenced the books he had read but you knew they were packed into every carefully constructed sentence. Yep,

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