If Not Levi, Who?

A book catalogue came through the post yesterday - essentially one of those discount book clubs, although with this one you're not committed to buying anything - which is lucky as we rarely want to. The books generally aren't my cup of tea.

But 'imagine my surprise' when, flicking through it, my eye was caught by one of the titles: If Not Now, When? My excitement was muted (I've got it and read it) and indeed short-lived when I saw that it wasn't Primo Levi's novel about Jewish partisans, but a piece of twaddle by Esther Rantzen, subtitled 'Living the baby boomer adventure'.

Such gross co-opting (or unhappy coincidence - I don't know) is rather enjoyable - transforming an urgent imperative about justice, heroism and dignity into a soothing pat on the pack for the self-absorbed and -indulgent. It's so gross that I don't even want to go into the details and ramifications. Or rather, I want to a bit too much, so I'll spare you.