Archive for March, 2010

A Girl’s Best Friend

Wednesday, March 31st, 2010

 

Have you ever been the President’s guest? Or do you know someone who has? I do. A Peirene author. Friedrich Christian Delius, author of webite-home-1281Peirene No 3, Portrait of the Mother as a Young Woman, was the President’s guest. Only yesterday. And Jamie, the translator, and I sat right next to him. What? You didn’t see us on the news? Well, pity because it was a spectacle definitely worth watching.

 

It all happened in Reading last night. Although Portrait of the Mother is not out until September, the President and the honoured members of the Assembly could no longer wait. They invited the author personally to present that stunning 120-page-long-single-sentence-that-reads-like-a-page-turning thriller. And they were truly stunned. So stunned that I sold – yes sold, not handed out as a freebie – 15 preview copies of the book. The President bought one too.

 

No, the President was not Barak Obama. But Frank Finlay. FF. Remember those initials, you will be tested on them in history lessons to come. The Assembly, however, was indeed a national one. Nothing less than the annual conference of the Association of German Studies in the UK and Ireland. Pretty impressive, hey?! In plain English: Peirene Title No 3 is now known through-out all the universities in this country. And if Lit Professors think Portrait is a remarkable novella  so should all of us I guess. Sorry to not be more humble about it. It’s just impossible.

 

So, how could it have all gone wrong? Well, the phone rang. Mine. The President’s guest was reading, the honoured assembly sat as quiet as a single mouse, and a phone started to ring in that beautiful old-style ringing tone. Instead of pretending it wasn’t mine, I frantically rummaged around in my handbag for everyone to see illuminated by the spot-light on the podium.  The ringing  eventually stopped of its own accord leaving me with the burning desire for a hole to open up in the floor.

 

No hole opened up. President and President’s guest were thrilled with he show. And so it was only after I woke up this morning that I had time to reflect upon the event. My daughter was the one who had rung. She was wondering where I had left the money for the piano teacher – the money which I had forgotten to take out of my purse that was lying in my bag right next to the mobile phone. And if there is one thing I have learned from managing Peirene it is that daughters show no respect for distinguished presidents and honoured guests. The piano teacher still needs to get paid. And the phone is there to ring the mother if she forgets to leave the money.

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Spring is in the Air

Friday, March 26th, 2010

 

… and I am newly in love. With a vampire, actually. Edward Cullen to be precise. I’ve had enough of Heidegger. I think deep down I am a webite-home-124woman who needs something less intellectual, more straight forward. With Edward Cullen it’s serious. No teenage infatuation. I loved him in Twilight and love him even more in New Moon. It’s out on DVD and I got it, watched it and now I can’t forget him. I want to become a Vampire to be happy forever after.

 

Luckily I was able to go a bit easier with Peirene this week. Last weekend I realized that it’s time to let go of my first book-baby, Beside the Sea. I’ve brought it up well, I’ve given it all I could. Now it’s out there and needs to find it’s own way. My other books crave my attention. But before I devote my energy to Peirene No 2, I decided to take a breather or in other words, a holiday at work. I still went to some meetings, answered e-mails, followed up on pending matters. But my lunch breaks were longer. I dealt with unrelated Peirene paper work. I went for a couple of more runs.

 

And good job I did. It allowed me to think through my heart throbs before acting unwisely and in a way that I might regret the morning after. My conclusion: I truly love Edward and if he wants me, I’m his. Yes, the allure of eternal love and someone to protect me (from bad Vampires and Werewolves) and cherish me for the rest of my Vampire existence – all this takes some beating.

 

One small issue: he isn’t yet aware of my human existence. If he were, I am sure he’d desire me just as much as I desire him. So what can I do? I guess I should drown my heart rendering sorrow in Peirene. And who knows, Edward might one day pick up a Peirene book, take it into his lovely pale hands, wonder who has published such beautiful, interesting work – and find me.

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My Life with Marmite

Friday, March 19th, 2010

 

I hate Marmite. It’s horrible. It’s a joke not a spread, and the smell is most off-putting. When my husband eats it I don’t get near him. I also webite-home-122blame him and his Marmite obsession for the failing taste buds of our children. He force fed them the stuff at an early tender age and now they think they love it. But they can’t – they are half German after all. However I fear the damage has been done. My poor darling children are scarred for life.

 

A friend of mine leads a reading group. It consists of seven women, all mothers with children between 6 and 20 years old, some working full time, some part time. They read Beside the Sea and kindly invited me along to their discussion. My friend and one other woman could see the good in the book, the others I think would have preferred not to have read it. Bad writing, bad translation, bad blurb on the back and too expensive. That was their verdict.

 

My husband believes in Marmite. He even claims that it saved his life when he was eighteen cycling across the Continent. My mother-in-law, too, loves to sing its praises, especially its versatility – spread it on toast in the morning, turn it into a nice hot drink in the evening.

 

I am acutely aware that the reviewers of Beside the Sea – either newspapers or bloggers – have been predominantly men. They can see what I see in the text, namely a mesmerizing portrayal of a mind totally wrapped up in itself. I would even go a step further: Beside the Sea shows us how difficult it can be for a mother to understand that her perception of reality is very different to that of her children. Furthermore if she ever loses that understanding, her love becomes destructive.

 

When I read Beside the Sea for the first time, I felt an excitement at having discovered a writer who managed – successfully – to draw attention to the dark side of motherhood. I assumed other mothers would too. On Monday evening I understood that my assumption was wrong. Some would rather not have encountered the book.

 

Just like Marmite and me. In fact, it was Adriana, the translator of Beside the Sea, mother-of–three and total believer in the text, who had the brilliant Marmite idea when I told her about the reading group. “How strange”, she pondered, “that the people who like this book feel so passionate… and those that don’t are equally vehement in the other direction. You could run a whole campaign along the lines of the Marmite ads (you either love it or hate it).”

 

Fabulous publicity stunt! It might make me also reconsider the virtues of Marmite.

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Sweet Talk Sweet

Saturday, March 13th, 2010

 

Over the past few weeks I have started to receive a steady flow of unsolicited CVs from University students looking for work experience. I takewebite-home-119 each request as a compliment and a sign of Peirene’s growing status.

 

But I don’t often find a good fit. A surprising amount of applications fall at the first fence  - the ones who didn’t bother to research my name, the “Dear Sir/Madam” – ones, because after all it really isn’t hard to find out my name, a bit of initiative, a couple of clicks on the website, that’s all what is demanded. Then there are the ones who found my name – well done them – but clearly didn’t tailor their email to Peirene Press itself and write lines such as “to gain work experience in a long-established publishing house like yours”. These don’t progress too far either.

 

Every now and again, however, there is a gem. “Dear Meike” or “Dear Ms Ziervogel”, either is fine with me, followed by a beautiful email expressing the applicant’s long cherished desire to gain work experience with a small, exquisite, personal company like my nymph, whose website looks so stunning, whose first book reviews are so impressive, whose editorial choices are outstanding. Nothing but sweet talk, but – I hope you are with me - well researched. And, guess what, it works. I am susceptible and click on the CV. Immaculate. I return to the email, read on. “I love reading and books are my passion. I am a creative person, who speaks three languages fluently. To make full use of my skills I ideally would like to work in your editorial department.” My heart sinks. Everyone wants to work in the “editorial department”, no one wants to work in marketing, accounts, contracts or Salon organizing (such as cooking potato salad). No one expresses passion for going to the post office, photocopying, filling out prize application forms, grand application forms, updating website and publicity sheets. Yes, I am waiting for an applicant to write: “I am highly intelligent, well-organised, motivated, I have no illusions and I love never-ending admin.”

 

Hasn’t happened yet. Not a single applicant has even got close to it. Am I waiting for the impossible? After all, I founded Peirene not out of an interest in contracts but from a love for books. I guess I ought to grant the students the same rights. Enthusiasm for the “editorial department” must probably be the starting point, the less glamorous stuff creeps up soon enough. And the good ones will learn. They have learned the sweet talk already.

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On Conquering the USA

Friday, March 5th, 2010

 

I think I sometimes fancy myself as the head of an international conglomerate, conquering the entire publishing world. I say “I think” becausewebite-home-1142 deep down I know that this is not the name of my game, but every now and again I fall into a trap behaving like a huge CEO. Do you get my drift? Let me explain.

 

Over the last few days I once again got terribly worried about sales figures. Yes, I am in second print run with my first Peirene baby but still a few hundred copies away from breaking even. So I became obsessed with sales figures. Why isn’t the book selling more? Look at this or that book. It’s selling heaps although it’s totally crap. Worry about sales figures was starting to do my head in. Added to the loo roll stress of last week, life wasn’t looking great at Peirene Headquarters. I then topped it all by deciding to break into the American market NOW and started talking to a US distributor who indeed listened to me. I was terribly flattered and felt that perhaps I was after all the head of a great conglomerate. So I rang up a colleague who actually runs a bit of a big firm, at least compared to Peirene, and suggested we two together should take on the US market. Baldrick couldn’t have made a more cunning plan, my colleague most subtly hinted. Then she mentioned the costs and the work involved.

 

I put down the phone and went for a run on the Heath.

 

I can’t remember if I had any deep thoughts on the run. I doubt it as I felt terribly unfit (because of all my anger and stress I hadn’t gone for a  run in a while) and was busy just keeping going. Back in front of my computer, I clicked on a lit blog I had come across two weeks ago. I had contacted the blogger to send him a review copy of Beside the Sea. From his profile I knew that he is a 24-year-old doctorate student at Oxford and sure enough his first reaction when I told him about the book was “I’m not convinced, a book about a mother killing her two children is my cup of tea” To his credit, however, he agreed to receive a copy. To my credit, I sent him the book, although I knew it was a shot into the dark. And then I clicked on his blog. And read a fantastic review (scroll down to March 2nd). The best of the lot so far. The blogger was totally honest, describing how, for the first two or three pages, he was taken aback, not liking it, but then had to completely change his mind. Reading this review made me incredibly happy. I pondered on that for a while. Then I realized why. Someone had given this text, a text I adore, a chance and the benefit of the doubt.

 

Had I been busy conquering the USA, I wouldn’t have had time for the initial email exchange with this blogger. And he probably would never have read the book and I would have never had the pleasure of reading his blog. And on the risk of sounding cheesy, I say it nevertheless. I realized then and there that happiness - and success - lies close to home and not in the USA.

 

P.S. But don’t get me wrong – my plan is still to make it onto the Elle cover.

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