Stunning collection of work from one of Britain's finest ever journalists and essayists, period. The kind of work that makes you want to read, write and think more widely, and, I hope it's not too high-handed to say, that this will be an instrumental body of work to inspire my own journalism.
That he had such a bright and exciting start being sent to South Africa at the fall of apartheid only sets the tone for both his career and the rest of the book. Put short, it's perhaps a bit sad how remarkable it feels that the Guardian would take a chance on a 22-year-old black working class kid from Stevenage to be their man in Soweto. My abiding, slightly melancholic thought is where are the next Younges going to come from? And when they do come, does British journalism have the space, money and imagination to afford them the ability to express themselves with the alacrity and uniqueness which Younge applies?