Guy Jenkin

“Ann was never sure where Chris’s poetry came from. He was clever and remarkable and fearless and fun, but the sheer beauty of his words always shocked her. These men, like him and Will, didn’t come from the leisured nobles who strolled through their fine libraries and exquisite gardens but from the sons of tradesmen in grubby backwaters, outsiders who could never match the wealth and breeding and martial skills of the aristocrats, but who found in words a currency where all men were equal, whose imaginations lit a fuse that fired an explosion of language that held all London in its thrall, whose very existence was a kind of revolution. They couldn’t let his final words be destroyed.”
― Guy Jenkin, Murder Most Foul