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The letters from JSS are almost wholly flat complaints about those two. Heywood concurs with them and he and his 'spy' give sappy childish nicknames to the Buchanans, rail about their behaviour, try to suss out who's on their side and who on the others' and build a clubhouse in the back garden to which only enemies of the Buchanans are allowed entry. I made that last bit up, actually, but it's in keeping with the spirit of the book.
The Buchanans left the shop altogether within a few years of the last letter here, written in 1974, and the book was published in 2006, decades later. To me this is extraordinary: To keep a pet simmering for three decades seems a terrible waste of one's given time. And Saumarez Smith is so obviously devoid of insight into himself that he might welll have thought the perfectly ordinary letters were remarkable enough to merit publishing though more likely his motive was that of an adult returning to his childhood clubhouse still seething over the old slights and shouting out from within it Nyah nyah nyah!
Entertaining because the enduring petty bitterness is so markedly OTT and because of the wholly unwitting way in which the author outs himself as, er, an enduringly petty & bitter sort of person.½