an unlikely & little-known gem.

​Occasionally, and it is very occasionally, I buy a book not knowing anything about either the author or subject matter and it turns out to be a gem. Nowadays, I buy my racing books from Greg Way of Newmarket, sellers of second-hand and antiquarian books. Way’s website is in no way flashy, containing only a list of books in stock in the category of your choice and it is simply title, author and price, with little detail added, no synopsis, no seller’s diatribe. The majority of books need no explanation with the name of the author or book more than enough for the potential buyer to ascertain exactly what he or she is buying. Sometimes I take pot-luck as I did with ‘Why Maurice’ by Keith Greenwell.
I rarely buy a book that I cannot finish reading, though I am on occasion disappointed by my choice. Paul Mellon’s autobiography ‘Silver Spoon’ was one such book, not because it lacked interest or was poorly written, the very opposite is the truth; it just wasn’t about horse racing, the only activity I knew him from. There are several chapters in a very long book about his horse racing interests, though far more by far about art and his and his family’s philanthropy. 
‘Why Maurice’ is a book of a completely different feather, it’s subject matter not immediately known by the title. Impressively, the author obtained a short introduction by Brough Scott, always a good selling point, though in this case a disguise for the homespun texture of the narrative.
There is a humble beauty about this short volume. It is written in a style that suggests the author is talking to you across a dinner table or in the beer garden of your local pub. There is no ‘bull’, no hint of being talked-down-to. For all the praise I could heap on the book, there is no doubt there is a whiff of oddity about it and as of know I cannot tell where I will find an obvious place for it on my book shelves. 
What is more, what, perhaps, I loved about the book, is that it is written in a way that I wish I could write. Yes, you have to excuse errors of punctuation, which I do readily, in the same way I hope people reading my humble contributions will forgive my lapses in grammar, etc. 
Keith Greenwell – and I hope he is still around as 1976 is such a long time ago now – was a racing enthusiast and that flies from every page. His patch was the North of England and the Scottish racecourses. I suspect if he had his way, he would have attended every race-meeting within an easy car-ride of his home. But, as with myself, he could only go racing at weekends and during his holidays and whenever he could snatch a day off work.
The ’Maurice’ in the title is Maurice Barnes, who rode Rubstick to win the 1979 Grand National. The book may be labelled a biography of the jockey but it is more of an explanation as to why Keith Greenwell followed his career so avidly and, I mean no criticism, in this he rather fails. I don’t think, unless you are family or have some personal connection, it can be explained why any one of us takes a fancy to someone else’s career. As a child, Bobby Beasley was the jockey I followed. Why? I have no idea. I know why I became interested in Bryony Frost and it has little to do with her father being a jockey or that she is a woman. I was impressed with the manner of the ride she gave Pasha de Polder in the Cheltenham Festival Foxhunters and thought if she turned professional, she would make a real go of it. It was the same when Tabatha Worsley when she won the Aintree equivalent.
Keith Greenwell thought Maurice Barnes had a nice quiet style of riding and couldn’t understand why he was not used by the bigger Northern stables. He liked him, backed many of the horses he rode – and that is another aspect of this book, the author had favourites amongst the horses he saw run and followed them, too – and it was only after accumulating so many press cuttings and photographs of his hero that he couldn’t keep it all under control, that he decided to pull it all together in a book. And a little gem of a book it is, too. A book to be proud of.
If you can track down a copy of this book do not expect professional excellence or tight-knit editing. This book is homespun, written with love of the sport at its heart and dedicated to a jockey who the author believed deserved more of the limelight than was offered to him. Not that Maurice Barnes sought any limelight. But that you will discover for yourself if you are successful in your search for a copy of the book.
I thought the book self-published but on the Amazon website where I surprisingly found a copy it is said to be published by the Cumberland & Westmorland Herald.