By chronicling the efforts of individuals and organisations to defeat and understand cancer, the book to me is a mirror of our biological and psychological natures: compelling and unsettling at the same time.

The author (with very good editors I assume) weave a narrative of social trends, medical orthodoxies and human bias through the decades. It begins with the search for cures and progresses to efforts to discover how cancer actually begins and propagates, touching on other topics and fields in the process such as statistics, palliative care, legal struggles against tobacco companies. The author also scatters excerpts from his own personal experiences with cancer patients where appropriate.

It’s a work that captures human failings and accomplishments in a historical and social context. The author explains that he wanted to call it a “biography” because it felt as if he were writing about a specific person. I’d like to build on that – “The Emperor of All Maladies” is more like a mosaic comprising the efforts, sufferings and triumphs of countless people in an ongoing struggle against an implacable and intimate enemy.

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A discontinued pen from Platinum’s ReCelluloid range of, well, celluloid pens.

From online searches, this pen was seems to date from the mid-1980s to mid-1990s. Lambrou’s “Fountain Pens of the World” lists similar pens (going by nib design) from around 1992.

The celluloid used resembles the striated celluloids used for the Parker Vacumatic:

It even has semi-transparent strips alternating with opaque, slightly pearlescent ones:

Platinum makes the ReCelluloid pens by rolling thin celluloid sheets, rather than by turning celluloid rods on lathes. The former saves money and manpower, but the pen ends up with a distinct line where the edges of the sheet meet.

This pen has a different feed (left) from current production pens (right). Could it be ebonite?

Its music nib (left) seems a touch springier and smoother than the one on a more recent Platinum #3776 Balance (right):

Writes very nicely with Sailor’s Waka Uguisu ink. According to the seller, this one was a dry writer. If you’ve a Platinum pen and have similar thoughts, you might want to try a Sailor ink before adjusting the nib.

On a side note: on page 115 of Nakazono’s “Fountain Pens of the World” (not to be confused with Lambrou’s far more comprehensive work), there’s a circa 1931 Dunhill-Namiki plunger-filler with an almost-identical shape and similar-looking celluloid with silver instead of brown rings. An inspiration for Platinum’s pen designers?

I’m enjoying writing with the TWSBI 530 a lot more after installing a Pelikan 140 nib on it, though with the clear faceted barrel I can’t shake entirely the feeling that I’m writing with a Ferrero Rocher box.

Anyhow, I’m also pleased because I can use this nib with inks that I wouldn’t risk in a vintage Pelikan – like Noodler’s Sequoia.

Switching nibs was easy. The TWSBI nib and feed are friction-fit and can be pulled out. Here’s a demo on YouTube:

The feed needed to be set to the Pelikan 140 nib, and I was surprised to find that the feed, though plastic, reacted to heat (from water just off the boil).

On a side note – the original EF nib on the TWSBI wrote a very fat line closer to a Fine-Medium, with a little feedback.

A grandiose title that tells you this book is a little more ambitious than “The Undercover Economist”. Harford writes with passion and urgency, defending rational choice theory as a useful framework for predicting in the majority of cases how the majority of people behave. Because people change their behaviours in response to incentives (and these include non-financial ones), rational choice theory also lends itself well to policymaking.

Someone needs to write about how those incentives can or should be structured, given findings in new branches of economics such as behavioural economics. Harford throws in a few comments about the applicability of some of Kahneman’s lab research to real world situations, and hints at “neuroeconomics”. Perhaps a follow-up is needed?

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Enjoyed the portraits of the universe of little and well-known literary characters who walked through the doors of Olympia, and the stories behind the books that have earned Olympia Press and Girodias places in literary history.

Good to be reminded that the romance of publishing and writing is sustained by ordinary people — writers, publishers and sellers who are often cliquish, ungrateful and unpleasant and all driven by their love for good writing

In some parts St. Jorre errs on the side of comprehensiveness rather than flair. While he doesn’t avoid describing Olympia Press founder Maurice Girodias’ flaws, he’s fairly discreet.

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This book is a critical analysis of Marshall’s political career, and excels in the descriptions of parliamentary exchanges, legislative negotiations, and the broad political forces of the time.

Some parts were especially incisive, such as her comparison of Marshall’s and Lee Kuan Yew’s characters on p. 126. I also like that she’s sensitive to quotes — there’s a deliciously ambiguous one by Lee on p. 274 — and for behavioural details. Other sections however read a bit dry, and more perhaps could be done to ease the layman into the thicket of legislation names, reports and papers.

Overall one wishes the book had a far better editor that could do its subject and author justice.

While appreciative of Marshall’s positive abilities, the author seems a bit too quick to write Marshall off. The concluding summary in particular seems too reductive.

Of note are the sketches of Marshall, Lee and other personalities. But it’s a shame that the artist is not credited anywhere. Equally upsetting are the ubiquitous typos – very odd of publisher Marshall Cavendish.

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This date in 1961 marks the earliest recorded appearance of the Pelikan P25, Pelikan’s first cartridge pen aimed at adults.

Pelikan launched the P25 after the unexpected success of the Pelikano: Pelikan’s first cartridge pen, launched in 1960 and targeted at school-going children. The P25 is not very different: instead of the Pelikano’s aluminum cap and steel nib, the P25 sports a rolled gold cap and 14K nib.

(Pelikan also launched the P15 at the same time as the P25, identical but with a nickel silver (billed as “Silvexa”) cap. The P15 and P25 were first offered in sapphire blue, then black.)

The P25 was based on the Pelikano, which in turn was based on the P1 – Pelikan’s belated and not very successful answer to the Parker “51″. For the P1 Pelikan retained its traditional piston-filling system, and only adopted cartridges with the Pelikano.

The P25 is slimmer and lighter than the 400s that Pelikan is best known for. The P25 seems a little smaller than the 400NN when capped, but when uncapped the P25 is actually longer. The 14K nib is stiffer than those on the 400s. The P25 cap has a Pelikan beak washer clip, following earlier pens, and is held in place by a dome the same plastic as the barrel.

From L to R: 400NN, 400, P25, a Pelikano

What’s interesting about the design is that the barrel unscrews about 1/3 from the end of the pen, instead of after the section. The threads for the cap are also high up, close to the nib. The pen is meant to take short international cartridges, and because of the construction it’s difficult to tell if you’re running out of ink until the cartridge is almost empty. But the end cap can hold a spare cartridge (inserted upside-down).

The P25 is an unassuming pen that doesn’t stray far from its origins as a student pen, and as a result it seems to be usually overlooked. This good example was almost a steal considering its rolled gold cap and 14K nib.

Got a set recently from Maruzen in Nihonbashi, Tokyo.