CIRCUS OF DREAMS (Constable, £25), John Walsh’s elegant and entertaining memoir of London literary life in the late 1980s and early 1990s, turns a bit less elegant and entertaining in its final stretch. Here Mr Walsh files a traditional Grub Street veteran’s lament about how awful all the young people are these days, how terribly the Booker Prize has degenerated and how negligible would be the welcome for any old-style publishing maverick who applied for a job in the industry in 2022.
Such laments rarely
