Wonder. It's May 1935 in a small bookstore in Edinburgh, Scotland. 32-year-old publisher Alan Lane steps inside and makes his way through the

Warren of high shelves to the back of the store.

Perched on a stool behind the counter, an old man is reading a thick hardcover book.

Alan takes off his hat.

Good morning, sir. Are you the owner?

The old man glances up from his book and smiles.

I am. How may I help?

Are you looking for a particular book, young man? Well, no, actually, I am. How may I help? Are you looking for a particular book, young man? Well, no, actually, I don't want to buy a book today. I want to sell some to you.

Alan offers his hand to the bookseller. My name's Alan Lane. I'm the owner of the Bodley Head in London.

Oh, you're far from home. What's a London publisher doing in my boat shop?

Offering you something new. Do you mind?

Alan places his briefcase on the counter.

You know, the bodily head was Oscar Wilde's publisher,

and we were the first to pick up Agata Christie's work as well.

We're proud of pushing boundaries.

So today, I'd like to show you this,

what we think is the future of publishing in Great Britain.

Alan turns the briefcase around with a flourish and neatly stacked inside are several small paperback books.

They all have orange covers with a white band across the middle.

The bookseller picks one out.

Poets Pub by Eric Linklator. This isn't new. Jonathan K Cape published it a few years ago.

Does Mr. Cape know you're touting one of his books is a new title?

...