Alan Jacobs


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Some writers, though, scribble and tap more fruitfully than others. Next month brings with it the scent of rose petals, cushions and lapdogs: all heralding the re-publication of Barbara Cartland’s first novel, Jig-Saw. She was a 19-year-old ingénue when she wrote it in 1920; by the time she died, nearly 80 years later, she had produced 722 much-loved, mostly romantic works of fiction. In case you thought you’d read that number wrongly, I’ll spell it out: seven hundred and twenty-two. By my calculations, that means Cartland cracked out a book pretty much every 40 days.