Archive for 2012

Corporate Responsibility

Sunday, May 13th, 2012

Although the Nymph might still throw tantrums worthy of a toddler, she has in fact turned into a mature young lady.geography-fieldwork-photos-188

Peirene is now an established part of the UK publishing world. We choose and produce confidently our core product – the Peirene books. We are continuously developing our product palette, such as events, and our marketing strategies. We provide work and opportunity for an increasing number of people including accountants, translators and authors. And we are recognized as playing an important role in modern cultural life. That’s why we receive funding from the Arts Council and international bodies.

Someone once described life to me as a progression “from learning to earning to returning”. So, Peirene has learned and earned but what about returning?

A few weeks ago I started wondering about corporate responsibility. Is it enough for a publishing house to print on environmentally friendly paper to claim “social responsibility”? We print on acid free, wood free paper from FSC mixed credit sources. These are all good things, I admit, but somehow they don’t make me feel proud enough of the Nymph or myself.

Peirene No 1, Beside the Sea by Veronique Olmi, will be sent off to the printers tomorrow for its 3rd print run. When the copies come back, they will all display a blue sticker on the front cover: Support the Maya Centre, 50p donation when you buy this book. And on the final page of the book we will explain that the Maya Centre is a London based charity that offers free psychodynamic counselling and grouptherapy for women on low or no income in different languages.

There are a number of obvious links between the Maya Centre and Peirene. Our focus on translated fiction correlates with The Maya Centre’s missions to offer therapy to women in their native language.  Peirene believes in building local communities – and so too does the Maya Centre. And finally Peirene’s metamorphosis from the weeping Nymph into a sparkling source of inspiration reminds us of psychotherapy’s contribution to self-empowerment.

The idea of contacting the Maya Centre and offering Peirene’s support came to me as I was running on the Heath. I felt instantaneously happy and alive.  However, I knew I couldn’t make this decision on my own. I had to mention it to the Nymph. I was a bit worried how she would react, not least because she loves her clothes and make-up.

But I needn’t have worried. As soon as I finished sketching out my proposal to her, she got up from her desk and came over to me and planted a huge wet kiss on my forehead.

“It’s an idea worthy of an ancient Greek Nymph!”

A Mother-Daughter Conversation

Monday, May 7th, 2012

“Did you vote?” I asked my 17-year old daughter this morning at breakfast. She looked at me bewildered.animal-photographs

“I didn’t know I could,” she replied.

“I put the voting papers on your desk a few weeks ago,” I said. And then continued: ‘As a responsible member of society it is important to take ones political duties seriously.”

My daughter was right. She can’t yet vote. The papers I had put on her desk asked her merely to register to vote when she is 18. I had misread them.

“Anyway, since you are so much into responsible citizenship, what exactly are you doing besides putting a cross on a piece of paper every few years?” My daughter loves to provoke me. Her eyes then sparkle with victorious joy.  ”You can hardly claim that running Peirene makes you ‘politically active’.  Well, this time she was wrong.

Peirene has a number of aims. Publishing contemporary European literature and helping to diversify the Anglo-Saxon book market is one. But there are others.

I believe that it is women in our society who have to change in order to bring about positive future developments for the human race. However, women still struggle with this challenge. We often boycott ourselves and find it difficult to  translate emotions into creative and constructive external activities. I examine these themes by the way I run Peirene and the books I publish.

My daughter rolls her eyes.

“Let me continue.” I ask her. “Peirene takes her name from a Greek Nymph whose eldest son was killed by Artemis. She wept so many tears that eventually she turned into a water spring. Poets of Corinth discovered the Peirene source and for centuries drank its waters to receive inspiration.”

My daughter interrupts. “I heard you give this speech many times.”

“But it is relevant now. The idea of metamorphosis and turning private sorrow and feelings into public creative force is thus implied in Peirene’s name.”

I could have gone on: Veronique Olmi’s Beside the Sea about a mother who kills her two children was Peirene’s first book. This was a deliberate choice on my part. It is a narrative about a woman who is stuck in her own head and unable to perceive outside reality. Peirene titles 2 and 3 also portray women living in their own heads. These three titles  stand in stark contrast - artistically - to Peirene the publishing house, the Nymph who started to ’sparkle’ with the publication of the Female Voice series.

Next year Peirene will again be concentrating on women’s writing. But this time they are outward looking female narratives.

2013 will see Peirene’s series of the ‘Turning Point: Revolutionary Moments.’ We will publish three internationally acclaimed female authors - Hanna Krall from Poland, Birgit Vanderbeke from Germany and Kristina Carlson from Finland. All  three books deal with important historical moments - Krall on the Holocaust, Vanderbeke on the Fall of the Berlin Wall and Carlson on Darwinism-vis-a-vis Religion. The writers use big historical events as a backdrop for small domestic settings and portray protagonists who are capable of survival.

“And you think the books will change the world? ” The antagonistic glimmer in my daughter’s eyes hasn’t yet disappeared.

“They won’t change the world. But in her own way, Peirene is helping to shape society.”

How to Compete with a Penguin

Sunday, April 29th, 2012

On Wednesday a press release from Penguin fell into my inbox, announcing the launch of the ‘Penguin English Library – 100 of the best novels inbeautiful_feet the English language.’ I clicked through to their beautiful website and watched the animation film with the penguin on youtube.

“Did you see this? Isn’t it well done.” I glanced over to Peirene’s desk, catching her quickly closing the link to the Penguin Library website.

“I haven’t got time for such gimmicks.” She replied with a careless air.

We went for a run later that evening. As we were heading through Highgate village on our way to the Heath, Peirene suddenly stopped.

“There is that arctic creature again.” She pointed at the Penguin mugs in the shop window of the bookshop.

“The mugs have been there for a while,” I replied.

“That’s irrelevant.” Peirene caught up with me, slightly breathless. “The point that I like to make is: what is this penguin actually doing to enhance modern culture, modern literature? Nothing. Do you understand: No-thing. Classics sell. So it’s easy to throw money at such books and make them look even better. And sure enough they will sell even better. But is this enhancing our present day culture? Is that diversifying our reading culture? Adding new, vital blood, new impulses, new ways of expression? No, it’s not! But readers will queue to buy these books and then tell us, they have too many books and can’t buy ours any more, sorry.”

Peirene stopped again and stamped her feet. I looked over my shoulder.

“Peirene, keep on running. You’re just envious. A run will do you good.”

“And one more thing. This penguin has persuaded Whistles to put him into their shops. Did you see it? Whistles sells elegant women’s clothes, what on earth are they doing with a penguin? Why not me – a Nymph? I could promote their clothes at our salons and our books would add a modern, creative edge to their shops.”

I arrived at the next street corner. Peirene was lagging behind.

“Do you want to go home?” I called back.

“I’m quite out of breath. I think I will go home,” she admitted

I waved and turned the corner, relieved to be on my own. When I came back to the house, Peirene received me with a smile.

“I have found our marketing niche. Tomorrow I will talk to some designer shoe shops. That’ll show the penguin. No shoe shop would ever get a penguin with his huge feet to promote their shoes. But I am sure they’d love to put a pretty nymph in their shop windows.”

Text Trading

Sunday, April 22nd, 2012

Last week was London Bookfair. There is nothing creative or glamorous about this fair. It’s an industry trade fair. Texts are traded for moneystock-trading-tips-7998142 and the international rights centre on the second floor in Earls Court resembles a bank’s trading floor. And like a stock exchange, the value of the commodity has little to do with quality, but rather with the hype surrounding it. Watch Wall Street and you will get the idea.

Peirene’s ancient Nymph’s heart struggles with these fairs.

“In a few years’ time the industry book fairs will have ceased to exist,” she prophesied with a fair amount of satisfaction in her voice, as we headed to yet another meeting. “This entire trading floor will disappear because all text will be freely available online. Mark my words.”

Unlike Peirene, I enjoy book fairs.  It’s a chance to leave my desk and dress up and meet people. I had two encounters – one with new acquaintances, the other with someone I already work with - that made the three days absolutely worthwhile. They wouldn’t have happened without the London Book Fair.

Last Saturday I was invited to a pre-bookfair lunch by Geradine D’Amico, the former Jewish book week director and co-director of Notes & Letters festival. She introduced me to Nermin Mollaoglu and her husband Mehmet Dermitas. They run the Turkish literary agency Kalem. Moreover, in 2009 they set up Istanbul’s Tapinar Literature Festival, so far Turkey’s only literary festival. Tapinar has now firm links with Hay, and Nermin and Mehmet are planning to get a children’s books festival off the ground, too. They are inspiring, inspirational and pro-active, perceiving the challenges of the changing global book market as an opportunity rather than a dead end. What a joy to meet them.

On Tuesday evening, Peirene’s German author Matthias Politycki was invited as star guest to the German Embassy’s  London Bookfair gala event. Matthias brought down the house. Interviewed by Guardian critic Nick Lezard, he gave a witty and fabulously funny performance, talking about beer, women and literature (in that order). No surprise, really. Matthias is a great author, but his expertise reaches much further. Last year he curated the Munich Literature Festival and he has fine tuned the art of good PR. It’s a huge pleasure to work with him.

True, the trading floor at book fairs might disappear. And the Nymph is right to predict texts-for-free. Readers don’t want to pay for text any longer. The challenge for authors, agents and publishers will be to create new revenue sources. But such a future will make fairs all the more important, so professionals can meet, exchange ideas and work together.

“And you and your friends are ready for this challenge?” Peirene would like to know.

“Absolutely.  And with an ancient Greek nymph by my side, I feel I have a head start.”

Spot Remedy

Monday, April 16th, 2012

The beauty of blind spots is, you can’t see them in the mirror. On others, of course, you spot them from afar.treating-eyes-cucumber-bete

I am good at detecting blemishes in other women.

A few months ago my daughter’s school sent out an email asking parents to present their professions at a school’s career fair for their 6th form pupils. A brilliant initiative from the school and a great opportunity for pupils to gain insight into different career paths. I signed up.

The evening took place in the big sports hall. The professions were divided into sections. As a publisher my stand was in media. I was busy talking all evening and only at the end did I have time to look around. With the exception of a young woman in the property section, two ladies in the teaching department and myself, all the other professionals were represented by men. I was so surprised that I even checked the name list of the exhibitors in case some of the women might have left early. That wasn’t the case.

I know mothers in the school who are practicing lawyers, doctors, marketing directors, actors, writers. Where were they? Of course one could argue that working mothers have to rush home at the end of the day to cook dinner. And some might have had prior engagements. But these are women who have daughters at the school. I assume they – like me –hope their daughters will one day combine career and family. Why didn’t they take this opportunity to show their daughters how it is done?

I have my own favourite explanation: Women still find it difficult to value their career as part of their identity and therefore struggle to represent it to the outside world.

I am not one of these women, I thought, as I walked home padding myself smugly on the back.

Well… pride comes before the fall.

Increasingly for the last twelve months I have been invited to join panel discussions and give talks. I like speaking publicly, so initially I said yes without hesitation. I became aware that on some of these occasions others were paid and I was not.  At first I thought it’s because my fellow speakers are better, more famous, more professional. Then I felt a little hurt. Eventually, Peirene put me straight:

“You have to ask.” She stated dryly.

“I don’t like to ask.”

“Then you don’t value your own worth.”

The words hit home. This week I had an opportunity to test Peirene’s theory. And to no surprise it worked. I will be paid the same fee as the other speaker.

“You owe me a thank you,” Peirene whispers into my ear.

I am grateful to the Nymph for mercilessly pointing out my blind spots.

Saturday Night Fever

Monday, April 2nd, 2012

On Friday I had lunch with a publishing colleague, Gary Pulsifer from Arcadia Books. We exchanged notes on many business matters.  When I martini1mentioned our forthcoming Danish crime novella, he said: “Are you aware the Danish Arts Council offers marketing funding for Danish books in translation?” Back at my desk, I checked out their website and discovered the deadline: the 1st of April.

On Friday evening, a friend had invited me to her birthday. I knew I couldn’t cancel. On Saturday 10am I pitched up our Roaming Store on The Broadway in Crouch End and was busy there until 5pm. In the evening we had a family dinner.

I opened my computer at five minutes past 10 on Saturday evening. I drew up a 5-day event tour for our Danish author Pia Juul, including a full budget on a detailed spreadsheet. I submitted the application at quarter to midnight. I went to bed feeling blissfully satisfied.

Being an entrepreneur is a funny business. You have to love to work. It’s a marathon, not a sprint. You have to learn to recognize and celebrate your own successes.

Just as I was opening the computer, I contemplated the possibility of feeling sorry for myself. It’s Saturday night and here I am about to fill in spreadsheets. For a fleeting moment I wondered if I should drop the entire operation.

But I didn’t. Because I knew I would feel proud of myself afterwards. If we manage to get the funding, our events in June have the potential to be more exciting and more widely publicized than any of our previous events. In addition, curating events – and thus providing the opportunity for text to come off the page – is central to Periene’s mission. It’s becoming one of the fastest growing parts of our business.

“I am pleased you love spending your Saturday nights advancing our business.” Peirene says. “Makes me feel less guilty about having a good time myself.” “Don’t count on me for ever.” I replied with a smug smile. “I might soon start delegating to you. After all, the best business women share their burden with others.”

PS … and in order to keep a balanced life, I will take a break over Easter. I’ll be back with the next installment of The Pain and Passion of a Small Publisher in two weeks.

Stewart’s Plight

Monday, March 26th, 2012

Stewart, the gerbil, is very ill. Last Monday my son complained that his gerbil’s eyes weren’t as bright as they used to be. I looked at Stewart but220px-cello_study1 couldn’t detect anything wrong. “He’s probably just a bit under the weather. Let’s watch him.” On Wednesday we decided to take him to the Vet.

Poor Stewart. He has lost a lot of weight. He sleeps most of the time and eats little. We now give him antibiotics with a small syringe twice a day. Every now and again I go upstairs to my son’s room and see if Stewart is still breathing. I feel sorry for the little animal and I feel sorry for my son, who will be heart-broken if his gerbil dies.

I am not an animal lover and if it had been up to me the gerbils would have never entered our house. And yet, as I sat on Saturday evening with my husband in the Queen Elisabeth Hall listening to Bach’s Trauer Ode (Ode of Grief) I thought about poor Stewart and how much I wanted him to get better.

On Sunday morning  my husband and I gave Stewart his antibiotics. My son, who usually administers the medicine, spent the night at a friend’s and hadn’t come home yet. My husband sat on the bed holding Stewart while I put the syringe in his little mouth. “Come on, mate, this is for your own good.” My husband encouraged the gerbil in a soothing tone to hold still and stroked its head. I suddenly remembered how we cared for our children when they were sick as babies.

“We should get a dog.” My husband teased me at breakfast. He knows full well that I don’t want a dog. “Over my dead body.” I replied. “I am worried because of a stupid gerbil. Just imagine if the dog gets ill. I’d be in danger of neglecting Peirene.”

Peirene is already displaying signs of Attention Deficit Disorder. One of the reasons why we went to the Bach concert on Saturday was to distribute flyers to the audience after the concert. A number of Peirene books link beautifully to classical music. Boecklin’ Isle of the Dead is the major theme in Next World Novella and also in Rachmaninov’s symphonic poem with the same name. Our Finnish classic gem The Brothers matches Siblelius Finlandia perfectly and Bach’s Fugues console Margharita in Portrait of the Mother as a Young Woman.

We printed Peirene flyers to highlight these links. We will distribute them after concerts. I had the flyers in my bag. But Peirene was rebelling during the concert: “I will not distribute them. This is beneath me. I hate standing there with people walking straight passed me.”

My husband saved the day. “Let’s do it.” He insisted. “It will only take 20 minutes.” And we did it. I sent the moaning Nymph home. My husband and I had a lovely meal afterwards. And when we got home we found Stewart with his snout deep in the feeding bowl - surely a promising sign.

The Trouble with Men

Monday, March 19th, 2012

“I don’t like the Man Series. I mean the name.” The  Nymph has complained for a while.71806-2

I admit. The Man Series is a hard sell. Our most difficult to date. Maddy and I experience resistance each time we promote the books at the Roaming Stall.

We point to Peirene No 1-3: “This is our series of the Female Voice – women and their inner realities.” We don’t have to say more. Eyes – from female and male readers – light up, the deal is done.

Our Small Epic series works similar magic. “A family saga about secrets and sexual tensions, a Danish literary crime thriller.” We sell subscriptions even at the stall. People are happy to hand over their hard-earned money in return for future books.

And then there is the Man Series. We’ve tried various selling techniques. “Men and their struggles with love and life.” “Our series of Masculinity – male authors, male protagonists.” “Everything you ever wanted to know about men.” A lame smile is the most positive response we tend to get from men and women alike. Then they point to the Female Voice series: “We’ll take those three.”

“I don’t understand.” I put my head in my hands in despair. “The books are just as well written, as fascinating as all the others. Next World Novella and Maybe This Time were among Guardian’s paperbacks of 2011. Next World Novella has now been long-listed for the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize. And, especially women, once they’ve finally read these books, vote Next World Novella as their best Peirene yet. But, blimey, what a struggle to get people to pick up these titles in the first place.”

“You haven’t nailed the name.” The Nymph looked at me with little sympathy. “It’s all in the name. ‘Man Series’ just sounds a total bore. It doesn’t offer anything to the imagination.”

Last week we held an emergency meeting at the kitchen table at Peirene HQ: Maddy and myself, the Italian illustrator Giulia, our current intern Yasmine and the Nymph. Sacha was on the other end of the telephone line.

The male protagonists in all three stories face moral dilemmas. Ultimately they all want the same: intimacy and a loving relationship. But they struggle to get it, or keep it. And, unlike the female characters in the first three books, the men project their reflections onto the outside world. They don’t hold on them internally.

‘Male Dilemma.’ We agreed. A nice contradiction in terms. We now needed a tag line. ‘Male Dilemma – Quests for Intimacy.’ ‘Male Dilemma – Paths of Reflection.’ We chose the second option. The first could be misinterpreted as ‘men’s desire for sex.’

“So what?!” Peirene disagreed with our choice. “If people have a one-tracked mind and interpret men’s need for intimacy with sex only, let them. Sex sells. The series could do with a juicy touch.”

She’s right. Besides, Paths of Refection could be misinterpreted as the title for a series of religious pamphlets – and that’s definitely not what we offer.

Peirene Upstaged

Sunday, March 11th, 2012

Last Wednesday Beside the Sea hit the London stage. The play was put on at the South Bank Centre’s Purcell Room and opened the Women of thebeide-the-sea_stage World Festival 2012.

Over the last two months the Beckett-actor Lisa Dwan and director Irina Brown worked behind closed doors to put the show together.

I had heard Lisa read from the book. I’ve seen her outstanding performance of Beckett’s Not I. I trusted her to do a good job and expected the audience to shed a few tears. But I didn’t anticipate crying myself. After all I know the text inside out and have talked about the story many times.

The staging is ingeniously minimalistic. A muslin curtain draped over a big empty screen in the background. White beach pebbles on the floor. A stool with a jacket in the middle of the stage. Where are we? A beach? A mental institution? A prison? Or perhaps inside the blank mind of the heroine where only vague shadows flicker across the empty canvass?

The actress wears a plain white nightie and boots. During the first 50 minutes she walks around on the stage, puts the jacket on, kicks stones, jumps on the stool, scratches her arms while she tells us about her sad journey to the seaside with her two children. Her voice oscillates between love and anger, calm and desperation. She is a woman at the end of her tether.

I follow the performance with interest and notice with delight that I am not bored. So the play must be good.

Lisa  now kneels down on the floor. Her hands rest motionless in her lap as she begins to narrate the shocking end. Nothing is happening on stage any longer. Whatever we see, we see in our minds. The auditorium is utterly still, no one breathes, no one moves. I feel a knot in my chest, for a moment I fight the tears. Then I let them run.

“And I screamed.” The final sentence of the book. It is also the last sentence pronounced on stage. Then Lisa arches back, the veins on her neck protruding.  As she slowly folds over she produces an animal like sound, an inward-scream, so desperate and lonely. I’ve never heard anything even remotely similar on stage or in film. A cry for humanity.

The lights go out. Total darkness. Still no one moves. The lights come back on slowly. Someone starts clapping. We all join in. Lisa walks to the middle of stage with a smile and bows. A relief washes over the auditorium. She smiles! It was only a play. For a few minutes that notion had dropped out of many people’s mind. We are reconnected to the reality of the Purcell Room.

“You are very quiet.” I say to Peirene as we walk back across Hungerford Bridge to the tube station at the end of the evening.

“I am absolutely stunned by adoration.” She says in a coarse voice. “I still feel emotional.” For a moment we continue our way in silence. Then she adds with a little laugh. ”And I can’t even be jealous. Lisa’s performance was just too good to make comparisons. Even I have to admit: I couldn’t compete.”

The Italian Connection

Tuesday, March 6th, 2012

At the beginning of January I received a phone call from the Italian Leonardo Da Vinci Lifelong Learning Programme. They wanted to send125 me an Italian graphic designer for three months to study Peirene’s branding. Furthermore they offered to pay for the flight, accommodation and living costs. They explained that the graphic designer currently works for an Italian publishing house that would like to revamp their brand identity and covers.

In vain did I tell them that we are a very small company, that we only employ interns for one day a week and that we don’t have an in-house arts department. They insisted on sending me the CV anyway.

Usually our interns are 21 years old and in their last year of undergraduate studies. Giulia Morselli, on the other hand, is a qualified architect, Illustrator and Graphic Designer.

“Oh, how flattering,” Peirene cheered.  “Such a highly qualified person and she wants to study me. Finally my reputation is spreading.”

I was far less enthused: “I’m afraid I will have to turn them down. She will only be disappointed.”

But Peirene was on the case: “Talk to Sacha. Perhaps we can offer Giulia a suitable project. After all she is an illustrator, a skill that none of us possesses. If she wants to learn about our branding – and in return we could make use her talents as an illustrator.”

We explained to Giulia on Skype that if she wanted to learn about our branding she has to be part of the team and participate in the daily, often unglamorous running of Peirene , from data input to distributing flyers on the street. In return we could offer her the opportunity to develop with Sacha a new Peirene project.

Giulia arrived two weeks ago. Since then, she has distributed flyers outside Victoria station, she has spent hours researching Women’s Centres to promote the forthcoming staging of Beside the Sea and she has sold books at the Roaming Store.

Last Friday, I’ve asked her what so far has been her most surprising learning. “The strength of the branding,” she replied. I was astonished “But isn’t that why you came here in the first place?“ “Yes, but I only now understand what behind the brand: the creativity and the drive but also the focus and the discipline.”

From tomorrow Giulia will spend three days a week with Sacha working on our new Peirene project. We are all very excited. Including the Nymph.

“Can’t I just hint at what it is about,” she laments.

“No you can’t. We reveal it in the summer.”

“At least let me announce that we are making use of a different medium, one we haven’t yet used before  – no books, no ebooks but …”

“Peirene, be quiet.”