As the array of books laid out on the dining table waited to be dusted, it struck me that the ill-assorted group had two characteristics.
They were all books purchased and published within the last 10 years or so, and every one of them boasted an author photograph and biographical note.
My older acquisitions had more variety. The older paperbacks frequently dispensed with the author photograph in favour of lurid blurbs, or a list of other titles offered by the publisher.
Several said little about the author beyond (in the cases of James Herriot and James Hadley Chase) indicating that their names were pseudonymous. And then I found one of those books that a friend refers to as the perfect one night stand: you pick