GULSHAN EWING FEATURED ARTICLES FOR MODERN WORKING WOMEN IN HER TITLES
by AMIT ROY
GULSHAN EWING, who died last month, aged 92, from coronavirus at a care home in London, was photographed with the likes of Cary Grant, Gregory Peck, Alfred Hitchcock, Danny Kaye, Ava Gardener and Roger Moore when she was the glamorous editor of Star & Style, a film magazine in Bombay (now Mumbai) from 1966 to 1989.
She also met the Italian director Roberto Rossellini as well as Prince Charles and danced with Lord Astor.
She was simultaneously editor of a woman’s magazine called Eve’s Weekly, for which she interviewed Indira Gandhi in April 1975 – only weeks before the Indian prime minister locked up opposition leaders and imposed a state of emergency on June 25, 1975.
“That my mother helped so many young journalists get their first break makes me so proud,” her daughter, Anjali Ewing, 59, who has herself been a journalist in the UK but now gives private tuition to 11-plus pupils and offers yoga lessons and videos to schools, told Eastern Eye.
“The black and white pictures are very evocative of a 1940s-50s kind of Hollywood glamour,” said Anjali, who has been going through her mother’s collection of old photographs. “She didn’t go to Hollywood – these people must have come to India to promote something.”
Her mother became something of an icon in Indian high society. Eve’s Weekly became increasingly feminist and moved from covering recipes and fashion to “more powerful stories about working women”.
Anjali explained that Star & Style was a fortnightly magazine, which “covered showbiz and films, Indian and Hollywood. It had a gossip columnist called Devyani Chaubal, who was very, very good at her job. She riled all the actors and directors – she used to get amazing stories about what everyone was up to. They would get very angry and call my mother and shout and scream, and my mother would always back Devyani.”
Her father, Guy Ewing, a Scotsman who was born in Paris and had grown up in Manchester, met Gulshan Mehta, who was born into a Parsi family in Bombay in 1928. Just after Indian independence in 1947, when most British people were fleeing India to return to the UK, Joseph Dennis Ewing made the journey in the opposite direction. He left Manchester for a job in Calcutta (now Kolkata) as a financial editor of The Statesman, then the most distinguished paper in India. His son, Guy, 17 at the time, also began in journalism in the city before venturing to Bombay a couple of years later.
Anjali takes up the story about how her parents met: “My dad was outside the Strand Cinema in Bombay with a friend of his and he spotted my mother with a group of her friends. His friend, Charlie, said, ‘Oh, that’s Gulshan Mehta, she works at Current, she is a journalist.’
“My dad said, ‘If you know her, can you get us together? His friend said, ‘Come on, I will introduce you.’ My dad said, ‘No, no, not like this. Why don’t you throw a get-together of some kind?’
“So Charlie threw some kind of party and he invited my mum. And my dad monopolised her for the entire evening. Apparently, he proposed towards the end of the evening. My mother said, ‘Don’t be silly. You are tipsy.’ So, he promised to propose sober the next day which apparently he did do. They courted for a year, got married in 1955 and stayed on in India.
“My mother must have been very Parsi growing up but when she married my father, she got excommunicated from the religion – she couldn’t go to the fire temple. She was quite westernised, anyway. Being with my father, we all spoke English at home. It was a very English household in India.
“They came to live here in the UK with my grandparents for a year after their marriage – my mother worked with Air India – but then went back to India. My brother Roy was born in 1957 and I was born in 1961. After they retired, they came to the UK in 1990 and settled in Surbiton. My dad died in 2018.
“I have been here since 1983, working mainly as a sub-editor for the Asian Post and the Ealing Gazette, and then for the Daily Mail, the Sunday Times, the Telegraph, and for 12 years as a feature writer with TV Times magazine and for three years with Hello! where I covered Melania’s wedding (to Donald Trump).”
In retirement in England, her mother would be nostalgic about her days in Bombay. “She used to watch a lot of Indian movies and immerse herself in (film) magazines like Stardust.”
Anjali was with her mother in her last moments: “I was very lucky – I was with her when she passed away. She had no suffering, she had no distress, she went without any medical intervention or drugs of any kind so she had a ‘good coronavirus death’. I want to celebrate her life. She has had an amazing life.”
Affectionate tributes have been paid by many people in India who remembered Ewing from her time as editor of two influential publications.
Meher Castelino, who won the Miss India title in 1964 and was encouraged by Ewing to become a fashion journalist, recalled: “I can never forget her elegance. Cigarette attached to a long stylish filter in one hand, clad in beautiful, printed, chiffon saris, elegantly styled décolleté cholis and perfectly coiffured hair, Gulshan would float into a room enveloped in the most exotic perfume. She was the ultimate style diva of the days and in a coterie of male editors, she was a breath of fresh air.
“Gulshan Ewing was decades before her time. The subjects magazines cover now were visualised by her along with fashion features years ago. For me, Gulshan will always be the ultimate editor who had elegance, style, grace and above all a personality, which was not only friendly, warm and memorable, but also unforgettable.”
Gulshan Ewing née Mehta, was born in Bombay (now Mumbai), on March 20, 1928. She died in London on April 18, 2020
The Shahbaz Fayyaz Qawwal Group return to the UK with a nationwide tour after viral success online.
The ensemble of brothers blend centuries-old qawwali traditions with fresh improvisations that connect with young audiences.
From Pakistan to the USA and UK, their performances have won acclaim for their electrifying energy and spiritual depth.
Fans can expect new instruments, reimagined classics, and the same message of love and harmony at this year’s shows.
From viral sensation to global stages
When a performance goes viral, it can change an artist’s career overnight. For the Shahbaz Fayyaz Qawwal Group, their stirring renditions of Bhar Do Jholi and B Kafara propelled them from local fame in Pakistan to global recognition, amassing millions of views across platforms. What set them apart was not just the power of their voices, but the way their music resonated with younger listeners who were hearing qawwali with fresh ears.
That viral momentum soon carried them beyond borders, leading to major performances in the United States and the UK. “It wasn’t just one track,” the group explained. “We revived older gems like Kali Kali Zulfon and Dil Pukare Aaja in our own style, and those went viral again, showing that qawwali still speaks across generations.”
Heritage, family and style
The Shahbaz Fayyaz Qawwal Group’s uniqueness lies in their roots. Composed of seven brothers and joined by fellow musicians from respected musical families, the ensemble was trained by their late father, himself a master of the art form. On stage, as many as 15 to 20 performers create a sound that is both deeply traditional and daringly modern.
Their shows are alive with improvisation. In the middle of a devotional track, harmonium player Shahbaz might suddenly weave in a melody from a contemporary Bollywood hit, while lead vocalist Fayyaz channels his energy into unrestrained movements and audience interaction. “When different styles meet, something new emerges,” they said. “That’s what keeps the music vibrant.”
UK audiences and the international journey
Having performed across the USA, the Middle East and Europe, the group describe UK audiences as particularly electric. “Each time we perform here, the atmosphere is charged. People don’t just listen – they become part of the performance,” they said.
Their repertoire often draws requests from fans who expect to hear viral favourites alongside traditional classics. “Sometimes, if organisers don’t allow us to perform songs like B Kafara or Dil Pukare Aaja, the audience won’t let the show continue. That’s the level of passion here,” they recalled with a laugh.
Keeping qawwali alive for new generations
While the roots of qawwali stretch back centuries, the group see their role as carrying the tradition into the present. By fusing tabla, harmonium and handclaps with newer instruments and arrangements, they appeal to younger listeners without losing the music’s essence.
“We want every audience to feel peace, harmony and love when they leave our concerts,” they said. “An artist should never belong to just one group of people – music is for everyone.”
What fans can expect this tour
This year’s UK tour promises new surprises. The group have introduced fresh orchestral elements and added instruments to expand their live sound. Fans can expect a mix of beloved classics, spontaneous improvisations, and the chance to hear qawwali reimagined for today’s world.
For Shahbaz Fayyaz Qawwal Group, the mission remains unchanged: to honour their heritage, embrace new audiences, and spread the universal message at the heart of their art. As they put it: “We look forward to growing together with our fans. Let’s celebrate qawwali as a tradition that belongs to everyone.”
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Born in 1864 in Visakhapatnam, Annie began medical studies at Madras Medical College, one of the few institutions in India then open to women.
DR ANNIE WARDLAW JAGANNADHAM was the first Indian woman to gain a medical degree at a British university and have her name added to the UK medical register in 1890.
Her story has been revisited by the General Medical Council (GMC) as part of South Asian Heritage Month. Tista Chakravarty-Gannon, from the GMC Outreach team, explored her life with support from GMC archivist Courtney Brucato.
Chakravarty-Gannon wrote in a blog, “In my role at the GMC much of my work is focused on supporting international doctors, and on anti-racism. It’s work that lies close to my heart. My father was born in India but emigrated to the UK in the 1960s.”
She added, “If you wind the clock back even further, it must have been even harder to make that journey and assimilate into a not particularly diverse society and profession. Unsurprisingly, in the late 19th century doctors were almost all male and white. It was going to take some remarkable women to turn that tide. I’ve been lucky enough to spend time talking to our archivist, Courtney Brucato, about one such woman – Annie Jagannadham.”
Early years Born in 1864 in Visakhapatnam, Annie was the daughter of Christian missionary parents. At 20, she began medical studies at Madras Medical College, one of the few institutions in India then open to women.
She studied practical midwifery under Dr Arthur Mudge Branfoot, who had spoken about the “folly and inadvisability of educating women as doctors.”
Barriers and opportunities Indian medical qualifications were not fully recognised under the colonial system. For women, studying abroad was often the only route to legitimacy.
In 1888, Annie received a scholarship from the Countess of Dufferin Fund to study at the Edinburgh Medical School for Women. The Fund, set up under Queen Victoria, aimed to improve women’s health in India through scholarships and support for health infrastructure.
She studied for the conjoint medical and surgical qualification of the three Scottish Colleges, known as the “Scottish Triple” or “TQ”.
Academic success Annie graduated with special credit, worked as a demonstrator of anatomy at Surgeons’ Hall, and achieved top marks in several examinations. On 2 May 1890, she was granted registration with the General Medical Council.
She then worked as a house officer at the Edinburgh Hospital for Women and Children under Dr Sophia Jex-Blake, who described her as of “fine and finished character.” Annie gained experience in obstetrics and gynaecology and was made a Licentiate of the Royal College of Physicians of Edinburgh, the Royal College of Surgeons of Edinburgh, and the Faculty of Physicians and Surgeons of Glasgow.
Return to India In 1892, Annie returned to India as a House Surgeon at Cama Hospital in Bombay (now Mumbai), under Dr Edith Pechey, one of the Edinburgh Seven who had campaigned for women’s right to study medicine.
Early death Two years later, Annie contracted tuberculosis. She returned to her family in Visakhapatnam and died in 1894 at the age of 30.
The Chronicle of the London Missionary Society published an obituary, noting, “it is to be feared that the early death, which those who knew her now mourn so deeply, was largely due to her self-denying labours on behalf of the sufferers in the hospital.” It added, “though the course [of her life] has been short, it has been useful and bright,” praising her independence, modesty, and “unostentatious service.”
Legacy On the 1891 medical register, Annie was one of 129 female doctors compared to more than 29,000 men. This year, for the first time, there are more female than male doctors practising in the UK, and more ethnic minority doctors than white doctors.
Chakravarty-Gannon wrote, “It’s important to remember that to be listed on the medical register, Annie was required to step outside the Indian system, navigate another culture away from her friends and family, and prove herself all over again – because her original education wasn’t recognised in a colonial hierarchy.”
“Dr Jagannadham may not be a household name, but her courage and determination helped carve out a path that many generations have since followed. Her story is a powerful reminder of how far we’ve come – and how important it is to keep moving forward.”
South Asian Heritage Month runs from 18 July to 17 August each year, commemorating and celebrating South Asian cultures, histories, and communities.
Woodcut prints that explore the fragile threshold between body, time, and transcendence
Inspired by Baul mystics like Lalon Shai and Shah Abdul Karim, as well as sculptural forms from Michelangelo to Rodin
Figures emerge from black holes and womb-like voids — trapped in time yet reaching for freedom
A visual dialogue between flesh and spirit, rootedness and flight
A bold continuation of South Asian metaphysical traditions in contemporary form
Paradox becomes the path: muscular bodies dream of escape through light, memory, and love
Expressionist in tone, haunting in imagery — a theatre of becoming
I imagine Tarek Amin (Ruhul Amin Tarek) has a singular vision as his hands work on his craft, his measuring eyes, the membranes of his fingers. They are mostly woodcut prints on the threshold of becoming, from darkened holes. A human figure dangling in space, yet not without gravitational pull, the backwards tilt of the head is like a modern-day high jumper in the fall position, the muscles and ribcage straining to keep the body's mass afloat. A clock is ticking away in the background of a darkened rectangle. Is it the black hole, the womb, or the nothingness from which the first murmurings of being, its tentative emergence into light, can be heard?
A clock is ticking away in the background of a darkened rectangleManzu Islam
This one is in the darkened inside of a clock, as if in the womb of time, but not quite trapped in the savage tick-tock of the metronome, for the body in its stylised repose is already stirring to take flight. Why else would the face turn away from the body in its sideways position and look beyond the dark hole, beyond the frame of time?
Even the figure deep in sleep in the primal bed of the darkened womb is not as lost to time as it first appears. The legs have already wriggled their way beyond the frame. Besides, the folds of the garment covering the lower body are billowing in the wind, as if responding to the summons of the beyond to take flight into the infinite. They are all over, these black holes that imprison even a tiny flicker of light. Staged almost as an expressionist theatre reminiscent of Ludwig Kirchner et al and the Bridge Group’s woodcut prints where dark areas, looming large, provide abodes for the likes of Nosferatu or the sinister zones of danger in a Hitchcock film, but always pointing to the lighted outside, the avenue of escape, even transcendence, as Tarek Amin tends to think.
Often bathed in metamorphic ochre and orange, these figures inspired by Bengal’s deep-rooted philosophers and mystical poets, such as Lalon Shai and Shah Abdul Karim, are swept along by their melodies of love and dread, which, despite being authorised in the name of an ineffable stranger, never fail to touch the very membrane of the soul. Perhaps that’s why Tarek Amin calls this series of artwork Echoes of Existence.
The body in its stylised repose is already stirring to take flightManzu Islam
In Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Narcissus, trapped in the mirroring surface of the water, stays deaf to Echo’s lovelorn calls. From Tarek Amin’s canvases, the echoes resolute not to take no for an answer insist on being heard, even though they speak in whispers.
What do these echoes speak of? Mostly of bodies, sinuous bodies toned and chiselled like Yukio Mishima’s, destined for a metaphysical journey. These journeys are fraught with dangers, as Mishima’s have been, imploding in a manic misadventure. Tarek Amin’s bodies, taken at once from the body-centred metaphysics of the Bauls (of which Lalon Shai and Shah Abdul Karim are preeminent figures), and from the long lines of sculptures from Michelangelo to Rodin and beyond.
Auguste Rodin looked at Michelangelo, who spurred him on his creative journey. But the Frenchman, being a workman and given to the sheer materiality of objects, the thingness of things which prompted Rilke to his poetic exploration of Dinggedicht (thing-poem), gave his figures ample volume, substance, and the rough edges of their emergence. Rodin’s bodies, weighed down by their dense matter, are rooted in places. They are too heavy to take flight. Analogous to Rodin, although working in a different medium, is the work of Bangladeshi painter SM Sultan. His embodied figures, mainly peasants bulging with muscle, know only work. Labouring in the fields, their muscles protruding all over their anatomy, creating fleshy mountains and slopes that even the likes of Arnold Schwarzenegger couldn’t dream of in their wildest imagination, is too heavy. They seem more likely to sink under their own weight than take flight. If there is an escape route for them, it is by digging deep, like Kafka’s moles.
Sure, bodies are houses of being, but some bodies are bent on dragging their being elsewhere. This, I sense, is the case in Tarek Amin’s work. Muscular bodies, bound by the sheer force of their materiality, and yet they want to fly elsewhere, it doesn’t matter how one names it: beloved, divine, or even God (Lalon imagines him as a strange neighbour in a hall of mirrors so close and yet aeons away). It seems we’ve ended up with a paradox. Rooted in bodies and yet looking for lines of flight. Imprisoned by the clock and yet wishing to melt it away as Salvador Dalí so theatrically wanted, or as Henri Bergson so patiently waited to experience his durée, as the cubes of sugar dissolved in water, which sent young Marcel Proust wild with excitement, thinking he had found the key to retrieving lost time.
Yet paradox is not a negative force. In carnival, particularly in the Caribbean one sees some figures in their limbo dancing, lowering themselves to almost ground level to pass the bar, while others elongate themselves on stilts to touch the sky. The high and the low, all at the same time, is the force that disrupts the habitual orders of things. It unleashes the forces of creation.
Tarek Amin’s bodies, then rooted in their flesh and chiselled muscles, and in dreams of escape with the melodies of Lalon Shai and Shah Abdul Karim are the figures of freedom. It will be a bumpy ride, but I wish them well.
Exhibition Title:Echoes of Existence
Artist: Tarek Amin Date: 20–27 June 2025 Venue: Spitalfields Studios, London E1
Manzu Islam is a British-Bangladeshi writer and academic, author of The Mapmakers of Spitalfields, Burrow, and Godzilla and the Song Bird. His fiction explores migration, racism, and cultural identity through vivid storytelling rooted in postcolonial experiences.
WHAT is it like for an Asian actor to be cast in the litmus test role of the great wartime leader and India hater, Sir Winston Churchill?
“I always start with the script,” Tony Jayawardena told Eastern Eye, just before going on stage to play Churchill in an evening performance of Nye at the National Theatre.
The play, with a brilliant script by Tim Price, tells of Aneurin “Nye” Bevan’s battle to establish the National Health Service “on 5 July 1948” after Clement Attlee had defeated Churchill in the general election of 1945.
Jayawardena’s role is crucial because in parliament the opposition to Nye’s plans for an NHS was led by Churchill.
Jayawardena, who was born in the UK in 1978 of Roman Catholic parents who arrived from Sri Lanka, said he glanced through a couple of books on Churchill – “one was given to me by my girlfriend’s mother” – but he emphasised: “You’ve got to start with the script no matter what the character is because we’re not doing a biography, we’re not doing a documentary, we’re doing a piece of theatre, a piece of drama. Then you do research if you need to. There’s not a huge amount of research, to be honest, that needs to be done. My previous understanding of Churchill was pretty good in terms of history and what is relevant.”
For those Britons with knowledge of the dark days of the Second World War, Churchill is still “the greatest Englishman who ever lived”. But the new generation recognises he was a more complex character. His statue in Parliament Square had to be sealed after being daubed, “Racist”, during the Black Lives Matter demonstrations in 2020.
It is a matter of record that he opposed Indian independence: “I have not become the King’s First Minister in order to preside over the liquidation of the British Empire.”
He was thinking of Hindus when he raged: “I hate Indians. They are a beastly people with a beastly religion.”
He reserved special hatred for Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi (whose statue in Parliament Square is, ironically, not far from his own): “It is alarming and also nauseating to see Mr Gandhi, an Inner Temple lawyer, now become a seditious fakir of a type well known in the east, striding half-naked up the steps of the Viceregal Palace, while he is still organising and conducting a defiant campaign of civil disobedience, to parley on equal terms with the representative of the King-Emperor.”
And there are many historians, not all Indian, who allege that as British prime minister, he did little or nothing to tackle the effects of the Bengal Famine of 1943 in which 2-3 million starved to death. His only concern was: “Why hasn’t Gandhi died yet?”
“There is nothing like this in this (play),” explained Jayawardena, “mainly because this is a dream sequence.”
As Nye (played by Michael Sheen) is dying at the Royal Free Hospital in north London in 1960, the doctors, nurses and patients in his ward morph into characters from his past.
“It is Aneurin Bevan living out his life under the fog of a morphine induced coma,” said Jayawardena, who doubles up as a doctor given the responsibility of looking after the founder of the NHS.
“So, my Dr Dain becomes Churchill. His (black) Nurse Ellie becomes his sister (Arianwen), the Matron becomes Clement Attlee, Mr Orchard (his schoolteacher who beat him as a punishment for his stammer) is a patient in there with a leg problem and the same actor plays Herbert Morrison (a cabinet minister hostile to Nye’s NHS proposals).”
Tony Jayawardena
The main reason that Dr Dain becomes Churchill was because the writer and the director, Rufus Norris, wanted to represent a multicultural NHS. “The idea was to have figures from different countries because immigrants have been part of the NHS since it began.”
“When I got the offer to play Churchill, which I was very grateful for, the idea of a south Asian man playing Churchill brought a lot of smiles to people’s faces.”
Anthony Surath Jayawardena, who grew up in Cockfosters in north London, did several plays as a pupil at the City of London School and sang for the Chapel Royal Choir at St James’s Palace. After abandoning a degree course in chemistry at University College London, he “loved” being at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama from 2000 to 2003. His theatre credits include Abdul Karim in Tanika Gupta’s The Empress; George Khan in East is East; and Mr Bhamra in Bend ItLike Beckham the Musical.
Churchill, he said, “had some pretty choice words to say about people in the south Asian continent. He has said some horrendous thing about people of colour, and about Aboriginal people as well in Australia. It is quite funny to think, ‘Well, Winston, old chum, one of those possible barbarians is now playing you at the National Theatre.’”
To the best of his knowledge, no Asian actor has played previously Churchill, so his casting does represent a landmark in the history of British Asian theatre. Fellow Asian actors have been “wonderfully complimentary” to Jayawardena but there has been nothing hostile on social media.
The script depicts Churchill, who represented the typical patrician values of his class, as being hostile to the NHS. But his patriotic qualities are highlighted too.
As Churchill, Jayewardena, who dons a fat suit to enhance the effect, is given some stirring lines: “You ask, what is our policy? I can say: it is to wage war, by sea, land and air, with all our might and with all the strength that God can give us; to wage war against a monstrous tyranny, never surpassed in the dark lamentable catalogue of human crime. That is our policy. You ask, what is our aim? I can answer in one word: it is victory, victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, however long and hard the road may be, for without victory, there is no survival.”
Not even the most ardent Churchill devotee could quibble with that. One of the best scenes in the play takes place in the House of Commons tearoom where Churchill convinces his nemesis, Nye, that this was not the time to vote against the prime minister in a no confidence motion because a united Britain was better placed to persuade America to enter the war.
“You seek power, but you’re afraid of it,” Churchill admonishes Nye, offering him a biscuit fetched from his waistcoat pocket. “You demand to govern, yet insist on being ungovernable. You demand solidarity, but don’t vote with your own whips. You are a born contrarian. The educated miner, the stuttering orator. The bed-hopping husband. What you need to learn about power, Aneurin, is this: compromise everything to get it. Because once you have it, you no longer have to compromise. That is the privilege of power. Compromise. Vote for me. Leave the activist behind. Become the politician.”
Nye was first staged at the National last year. It also went to Wales where Jayewardena found the reaction to the character of Churchill was very different.
“This is a Welsh play,” Jayawardena pointed out. “And when you do a Welsh play in Wales, it’s spectacular. You’ve even got a scene where Nye’s father speaks to him in a mine. But when you do it in Wales, in Cardiff, every single audience member knows someone who was in a mine, related to somebody who was in a mine or was in a mine themselves. It takes on a whole new meaning. The other thing in playing Churchill is that I think he (as home secretary in 1910) sent the army into the mines when they were trying to strike. He is a figure of huge hatred in Wales.” Jayawardena plays Churchill to perfection.
Nye is at the National Theatre until August 16, 2025.
First edition of The Hobbit sold for £43,000 by Auctioneum in Bristol.
Only 1,500 copies were printed in 1937; few hundred believed to survive.
Book was found during a routine house clearance without a dust jacket.
Bound in light green cloth, it features original black-and-white illustrations by Tolkien.
Copy once belonged to the family library of Oxford botanist Hubert Priestley.
A rare first edition of JRR Tolkien’s The Hobbit has sold for £43,000 at auction after being discovered during a house clearance in Bristol. The copy, uncovered by Auctioneum, was part of the original 1937 print run of 1,500 copies and is considered “unimaginably rare”, with only a few hundred believed to still exist.
The book was bought by a private collector based in the UK. Auctioneum, which handled the sale, noted that bidding came from across the globe, pushing the final sale price to more than four times the original estimate.
Discovered on an ordinary bookcase
The copy was found without a dust jacket on what was described as a “run-of-the-mill bookcase”. Caitlin Riley, Auctioneum’s rare books specialist, recognised the value immediately upon examining the book.
“It was clearly an early Hobbit at first glance, so I just pulled it out and began to flick through it, never expecting it to be a true first edition,” Riley said. “It’s a wonderful result for a very special book.”
Bound in light green cloth with black lettering, the edition features black-and-white illustrations by Tolkien himself, who was then a professor at the University of Oxford.
Historical connection to Oxford
This laid the foundation for his epic sequel, The Lord of the RingsAuctioneum
Auctioneum said the book was part of the family library of Hubert Priestley, a botanist linked to Oxford and the brother of Sir Raymond Edward Priestley, an Antarctic explorer and geologist. It is believed that the Priestley family had personal or academic ties with Tolkien, and possibly CS Lewis, who was also part of Oxford’s literary circle.
High-value collector’s item
Tolkien’s The Hobbit has sold over 100 million copies worldwide and laid the foundation for his epic sequel, The Lord of the Rings. First editions of The Hobbit are in high demand; in 2015, a copy featuring a handwritten note by Tolkien in Elvish fetched £137,000 at Sotheby’s.