There comes a time when you have to take a deep breath, look at your bookshelf, and ask yourself whether the world really needs another book about Jim Clark.
Clark lived, raced and died before my time. Through books, and also after talking with people who watched him race, I have developed a genuine admiration for what he achieved and the type of driver that others remember him to be. But if there is one slice of 1960s F1 history that has been covered to the point of exhaustion, it is the intertwined story of Clark and Lotus.
I can understand where the obsession comes from. Virtually all of the English-speaking custodians of F1 history are British (quirkily, one of the very exceptions is Eoin Young, but he has spent more than enough time away from his native New Zealand over the past 40 years to qualify as an honorary Pom).
Most of them are from the generation that spent its formative years being captivated by the exploits of the world's fastest Scottish farm boy and the Colin Chapman's revolutionary cars, and those kinds of early passions are not easily shaken.