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The purpose of this paper is to critically regard the concept of recovery from the perspective of substance misusing offenders. It intended to understand how these individuals came to define recovery by asking “what does recovery mean to you?”

In total, 35 semi-structured interviews were undertaken with individuals with a history of heroin and crack cocaine use as well as convictions for a range of offences. Interviews took place in both prison and community settings, reflecting a spectrum of experience.

Whilst the constellation of recovery varied, it was at times made up of the same “stars” – and some re-occurring themes emerged; recovery was transient, fragile and unpredictable, it was ongoing, lacking a definitive end, it was more than abstinence and often involved a total psychological overhaul, recovery was about reintegrating with society and feeling “normal”.

Practitioners and services need to value the individual interpretations of recovery rather than being prescriptive around what it “should” look like. The components of recovery that were raised by participants permit specific recommendations for practice to be made.

This study sought the perspectives of those actually affected by and experiencing drug treatment in the Criminal Justice System. It allowed participants to tell their story without preconceived ideas or hypotheses, putting their voice at the centre of the stage. The study uses feedback from the ground to make informed recommendations for practice.

The following are portions of a paper, bearing the title as above, which was read before the Royal Society of Arts on April 18th, 1945, by Sir Edward V. Appleton, LL.D., F.R.S., the Secretary of the Department; Sir Henry Dale, P.R.S., presiding.

MID‐OCTOBER sees the activities of the library world in full swing. Meetings, committee discussions, schools at work, students busy with December and May examinations in view, and a host of occupations for the library worker. This year—for in a sense the library year begins in October—will be a busy one. For the Library Association Council there will be the onerous business of preparing a report on State Control; for libraries there will be the effort to retain readers in a land of increasing employment and reduced leisure; and for the students, as we have remarked in earlier issues, preparations for the new syllabus of examinations which becomes operative in 1938. It is a good month, too, to consider some phases of library work with children, “which,” to quote the L.A. Resolutions of 1917, “ought to be the basis of all other library work.”

ONE or two questions raised by the writer of “Letters on our Affairs” this month are of some urgency. The first, the physical condition of books, is one that is long over‐due for full discussion with a view to complete revision of our method. The increased book fund of post‐war years, and the unexpected success of the twopenny library, have brought us to the point when we should concentrate upon beautiful and clean editions of good books, and encourage the public to use them. “Euripides” is quite right in his contention that there is too much dependence upon the outcasts of the circulating library for replenishing the stocks of public lending libraries. We say this gravely and advisedly. Many librarians depend almost entirely upon the off‐scourings of commercial libraries for their fiction. The result, of course, is contempt of that stock from all readers who are not without knowledge of books. It is the business of the public library now to scrap all books that are stained, unpleasant to the sight, in bad print, and otherwise unattractive. Of old, it was necessary for us to work hard, and by careful conservation of sometimes quite dirty books, in order to get enough books to serve our readers. To‐day this is no longer the case, except in quite backward areas. The average well‐supported public library—and there are many now in that category—should aim at a reduction of stock to proportions which are really useful, which are good and which are ultimately attractive if not beautiful. The time has arrived when a dirty book, or a poorly printed book, or a book which has no artistic appeal, should be regarded as a reproach to the library preserving it.

Those who contemplate attending the Annual Conference of the Library Association at Portsmouth would be well advised to secure their accommodation immediately if they have not done so already. The demands upon hotel space have been very much greater than even sanguine members anticipated, and already we hear of people being refused rooms because they are no longer available. Portsmouth, of course, is the naval centre of the Empire, and that common‐place piece of knowledge is magnetic, nevertheless. There are other attractions in Portsmouth. Its situation, practically adjacent to the Isle of Wight, with all its charms, on one side, and its nearness to the New Forest and the belt of Hampshire towns on the west, and on the east with such places as Chichester, Selsey, Bognor, Worthing, and Brighton make it, from the location point of view, of special interest. There is the further call of the literary associations of Portsmouth. Every book on the Navy has something about it, as those of us who read W. H. G. Kingston, Captain Marryatt and many another sea‐author can testify. Perhaps the most important author who came out of Portsmouth was not a sea‐writer but the son of a naval outfitter—George Meredith. Pernaps to a post‐War generation he seems old‐fashioned, involved, unnecessarily intricate, precious, and possesses other faults. This is a superficial point of view, and certainly in his poems he rises to heights and reaches depths that are denied to most writers of to‐day. In any case, The Ordeal of Richard Feverel and Beauchamp's Career, to say nothing of The Egoist, are among the great novels of the English language.

A LONDON and Home Counties Branch of the Library Association reached the stage of initiation at the meeting held at the Central Library for Students on March 28th. A committee was formed and officers were elected, and application is to be made to the Library Association Council for a certificate creating the Branch. The movement has our sympathy, and it may do something to revive interest in library matters, which notoriously flags, amongst London librarians. We do not think the committee quite representative, but it will do for a start.

THERE was a rather remarkable statement made at the Royal Institute of British Architects by Mr. Berwick Sayers last month. He affirmed that so far as the recorded issues of the reference libraries in the municipal libraries of London were concerned, only 8,880 books were consulted daily. This, as the statistical account of twenty‐nine public libraries, shows an average of a fraction over 302 books daily. To some this may seem not an inadequate issue, if all the books recorded are books which the student and the searcher for information have used. The point of the meeting at which the remark was made was that the reference libraries of London should do more in co‐operation with industry, and it was argued by the representatives of ASLIB who took part in the conference that our London reference libraries should be strengthened in the science and technology departments, even at the expense of the lending libraries. The experience of the public librarian seemed to be that few people lived in London near their work; and that they had command of the special libraries in London in a way that provincial industrialists had not, and therefore they did not make any use that mattered of London reference libraries. The Chambers of Commerce in the various boroughs of London consist of small traders as a rule whose main purpose is “to keep down the rates,” and who have very little connection with industry on the scale in the minds of the ASLIB representatives. In short, the chief function of the London public libraries is mainly that of home reading. Ultimately the solution of the reference problem may be the establishment of one or two great regional reference libraries supported by the co‐operation of the boroughs. Co‐operation, however, is in its initial stages yet, and it will probably be some time before such an ideal, if it be an ideal, is achieved.

Van Helmont considered he had found it in water, and thus records his famous Brussels experiment:

[There are thousands of lists of books on special subjects, and nothing more is attempted here than to indicate the most useful. For other lists and bibliographies, reference must be made to the works in Section I. The catalogues of special libraries and the numerous lists of books on special subjects contributed to professional magazines must also be sought for there.]

OCCASIONALLY some writer is inspired to make the declaration that reference work as understood in America does not exist in Great Britain, or, even more definitely, is not known there. We rejoice at any advance our American friends make, but our enthusiasts for American methods must not undervalue the homeland. In the pages that follow some aspects of reference work receive attention, and the inference to be drawn may be that, if we have not specialized this department of work to the extent that transatlantic libraries have done, if in some smaller places it hardly exists “as the community's study, archive department and bureau of information,” yet in our larger cities and in many lesser places much work is done.