Though he knew more about book publishing than most people in the business, Fred Newman was never himself an insider. Instead, as the creator of Publishing News and the British Book Awards, otherwise known as the Nibbies, he thought of himself as a close observer of the scene, one who could spot the trends ahead of others in the trade. Often he was right.

Born in Vienna in 1932, Newman, then Manfred Neumann, and his parents escaped the Nazi push into Austria after his mother bribed a guard to release her husband from Dachau. Ending up in London, the young Newman was educated at William Ellis School in Highgate where he won a scholarship to Christ Church, Oxford, to read modern languages.

However, academic studies were not greatly to his taste. Instead, he discovered a passion for journalism, earning early distinction by writing for and eventually editing Cherwell. After National Service he joined the Daily Sketch as a junior reporter. Run on the proverbial shoestring, the Sketch was a great training ground for young journalists who were called upon to try their hand at every skill known to Fleet Street short of actually printing the paper. Editing the diary column, Newman hovered inquisitively on the edges of the Profumo affair and reported on the love affair between Princess Margaret and Group Captain Townshend. As one of his former colleagues on Publishing News has commented: “Though Fred’s attention to the nuances of punctuation left a good deal to be desired, he could always be relied upon to advise on the correct way to address a royal or a bishop.”

By the mid-1960s Newman was looking for another job. Married to Sylvia, a nurse whom he had met on a routine visit to the Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford, and with three young children, he felt in need of an income more secure than that offered by a failing newspaper. In the event, the Sketch struggled on until 1971 when it merged with its sister paper, the Daily Mail, but by then Newman had carved out a new career as information officer at the recently founded University of Sussex.

The association with fashionable academia did not last. Though there was much of interest in the revolutionary expansion of higher education, it lacked the immediacy and excitement of mainstream journalism. Newman also had the itch to create something he could call his own. His way back into print was as a part-work publisher, putting together such collectible series as Cordon Bleu Cookery and The Story of Pop for a company called Phoebus, of which he became managing director. But his frenetic, inspired and invariably chaotic leadership was at odds with the more measured style of his employers. Any hurt caused by his long-anticipated sacking was softened by a successful action for wrongful dismissal.

Soon afterwards Newman renewed contact with Clive Labovitch, an Oxford contemporary who, with Michael Heseltine, had set up Haymarket, a journals publisher that had found success in niche markets. Casting about for a specialist interest yet to be represented in print, Newman came up with, and Labovitch backed, Skateboard Special. But the teenage craze for riding skateboards did not extend to reading about them, and the magazine soon folded.

They had better luck with their next joint venture. Launched in 1979, Publishing News hit the market at just the right time. The book trade was in transition. Young entrepreneurs were moving in on an essentially backward-looking business for which profit had been a dirty word. In the era of change there was a hunger for news of the deals and counter-deals that were transforming the publishing scene and for gossip on the rising and fading editorial stars.

Written in lively style with a sense of mischief well to the fore, Publishing News soon became essential reading for anyone interested in books. Newman was in his element. As he recalled, he was “reporter, sub-editor, designer and chief proof reader”. When he could afford to recruit staff he drove them hard and often to distraction.

Everything had to be done in a hurry. An aggressive driver, sharing his car was an experience not easily forgotten. He was never a snappy dresser, and his appearance became increasingly shambolic over the years. Finding him waiting outside a restaurant, his lunch guest, an eminent publisher, at first took him for an unfortunate in need of money for a cup of tea.

Originally a fortnightly, PN was successful enough to justify weekly publication from 1987. By then Newman was casting about for a fresh initiative. His inspiration was the British Book Awards. The idea was slow to take off. Handing out baubles to such as bookseller, publisher, distributor or bestseller of the year was thought to lack the appeal of the exclusively literary prizes. But Newman’s infectious enthusiasm overcame all opposition to make the Nibbies, nicknamed after the pen nib-shaped awards, an annual institution attracting star presenters and television coverage.

Now in their 19th year, the British Book Awards have thrived while Publishing News has faded. Hit by the decline in print advertising, the final issue appeared last July. By then Newman had pulled back from everyday involvement with his company.

Fred Newman is survived by his wife and three children.

Fred Newman, journalist and publisher, was born on October 13, 1932. He died on November 12, 2008, aged 76