Archive for the ‘Book and Author Events’ Category

An Occasion for a Hat

Monday, August 8th, 2011

 

I love hats. Sadly there are not many occasions when I can wear them. And although I am pleased to be living nowadays, I do envy thegeography-fieldwork-photos-119 ladies from the 1920s for their hat-wearing fashion.

 

Last Saturday, however, I discovered the perfect occasion to wear a hat. Let me explain by way of a detour (or two).

 

At the moment, my children are away on summer camp. My husband plays cricket  on Saturday afternoons. So I had a glorious free day ahead of me. I decided to clear out my bookshelves. By the end I had thrown out over 120 books. A triumph! Clearing out books cleanses my mind and allows me to take stock of the imaginary roads I have travelled.

 

I do a personal book-clean-out every couple of years. Books – fiction and non-fiction – that I will never look at again, go. And the books that stay, relate to a subject I either was once researching or am still interested in. Therefore my bookshelves are not organized alphabetically nor according to genre, but according to themes.

 

I love themes. They are like boxes that give sense to apparently unrelated subject matters. That’s also the reason why I theme the Peirene books.

 

The third and final title in Peirene’s Series of the Man, will be published in September. With the publication of Maybe This Time Peirene will have two series out. The Series of the Female Voice and the Series of The Man.

 

As I was going through my bookshelves I suddenly realized that I had my perfect occasion for a hat: the launch of Maybe This Time and the closing off of Peirene’s second major theme.

 

I had seen the hat before in the shop window. But I had refrained from buying it. Now I rushed to the shop. Truth to tell I didn’t stop at the hat. I bought a matching outfit too: pencil skirt and a blouse.

 

So, my bookshelves have lost considerable weight and my purse has been lightened by a few pounds. The world needs more hats, more themes and fewer unread books. This Saturday I made good progress all round. I’m especially pleased with the hat  - which you can admire in the photograph above.

 

PS: I am on holiday and will be back here with the next episode of  The Pain & Passion of a Small Publisher at the beginning of September.

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Lit & Glam

Sunday, May 15th, 2011

 

I have a friend who hates readings and refuses to attend the Peirene Salons. Unfortunate for him, he is on the Peirene mailing list andhelen therefore receives automatically every three months an invitation to the forthcoming Peirene Soiree. When the last invitation fell into his inbox, his patience must have reached its limit. “I’d love to see you,” he wrote back. “But not like this, honestly. Readings of any kind are my special nightmare. I’d rather watch the author get beheaded, even though I imagine he’s a very nice and talented man.”

 

I can understand my friend’s adverse reaction to readings, although I wouldn’t go as far as wanting to watch the beheading of a poor author. I, too, find many readings and literary events dead boring. For professional reasons I go to a fair amount, but mostly I wouldn’t dream of going if I were looking for a good night out. That’s a real shame because I do believe lit and show biz make a wonderful combo.

 

So why is it so difficult to find? In my view there are a number of factors. Firstly the venue. Readings are often held in book shops and lecture theatres. Frankly I prefer a more night-outy ambience, a pub or a club for example. Secondly, the curation: an event needs a theme. Especially if there is more than one author, the event needs a hook, an irresistible must-hear factor. Thirdly, I like a bit of glamour, a bit of theatre, a bit of show from all the participants. I’d like to be entertained. And fourthly, it shouldn’t be too long. After all it’s a night out, and part of the evening is about hanging out with my friends.

 

Truth to tell, I sometimes wish I’d be a running a café-theatre and not a publishing house. I imagine myself wearing sparkling evening dresses introducing with a husky voice at the mike a string of fabulous jazz musicians, while some guests chat at the bar and others sit mesmerized at their tables. Smoking would be allowed.

 

So, I can’t blame my friend for refusing to come to the Peirene Salons. Even though  I like to claim a Peirene Salon could cure him of his traumatic past reading experiences. And in particular this next one: I am contemplating adding an extra entertainment bonus: the reading might take place under the moonlight out in the garden. The ultimate summer party. And may what come, shine or rain, rest assured, I will be wearing my high heels.

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The Arrival of Author No5

Monday, May 9th, 2011

 

Writers are different to other humans. They live in their heads. They are complicated and tender souls. They shun domestic life and stay atsuitcase the outskirts of society. They are not like the rest of us mortals.

 

Peirene is adamant in her rejection of this assumption. And she should know, not least because she has met many writers. After all the poets of Greece used to queue up to drink from her water fountain.

 

“Those poets who came to drink the water weren’t any good,” she likes to remind me every now and again.

“I guess that’s why they came to you.” I once ventured to suggest. “They were looking for inspiration.”

“They wasted their time. I was a common nymph who turned into a common fountain. The good ones never came to me. They knew that society not sources give inspiration.”

 

Last Saturday, author No 5, Jan van Mersbergen, arrived at our doorstep. Bookstock had invited him for their literary evening in Central London. The fantastic Dutch Foundation for Literature was so kind to pay for his travel. On Saturday afternoon Maddy took Jan to meet a reading group at the Hornsey Library and in the evening the three of us with the Nymph in tow headed to the Bookstock event.

 

Peirene had already taken a shine to Jan a few months ago when she discovered his profile on twitter and facebook. She immediately appreciated his interactive approach with modern social media. When I told her that he has two children and does a fair amount of child care, her eyes lit up. A man to her liking – clearly not living in a lonely cave.

 

“That’s why his characters and dialogues are so great. The writer knows what he’s talking about,” she said with a gleam in her eyes. However, by the time we arrived at the Blue Posts in Fitzrovia she had become nervous.

“He’s  foreign, he’s never read a text in English in public before and now he will have to entertain an audience for 20 minutes. This is going to be a disaster, “she whispered into my ears. Her heart sank even further when the first author came on stage. English writer Stuart Evers gave a wonderful performance - well prepared, clever and funny with a good sense of timing. Peirene became so nervous, she decided to  order herself a large Gin and Tonic.

 

To cut a long story short. Stuart and Jan were the stars of the evening. Jan‘s 20 minutes at the mike were equally brilliant and professional. He made the audience laugh, read beautifully and held everybody’s attention right to the end. A performer capable of connecting with his audience. The Nymph bought him a pint of beer and herself another G&T to celebrate.

 

By the time we got home she was tipsy and became a bit cheeky to me: “Shame about his UK publisher though,” she announced with a little wicked smile around her mouth. “You had one task this evening. And that was to film his performance.” “So I did,” I replied defensively. “Yes, but it’s poorly lit. You could have done better.” I sent her straight to bed.

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Speech Day

Monday, November 15th, 2010

 

A few weeks ago I was asked to give a speech about Peirene. I was delighted. Why wouldn’t I be! The Nymph is my favourite topic. In addition itimg_30781 was the Authors’ Club, where I am a committee member, who asked me, so I would give the speech in front of a mainly familiar audience. Easy, I thought, this talk doesn’t even need preparation.  

 

Speech day was last Friday. On the Monday before, as I was thinking about the week ahead, it suddenly dawned on me that I’ve never given a speech about Peirene before. Yes, I introduced Salons and book launches but I never stood in front of an audience and talked for 20 minutes without interruption. Of course I know that a speech, like a book, needs focus and a narrative otherwise the listener becomes bored.  And I didn’t want my Nymph to leave such an impression behind.

 

But still I was under the illusion I could knock off the preparation of this speech in an hour. I put it on my to-do-list for Wednesday among getting No 4 off to the setter and proofreader, revising the edits of No 5 and reading a Hungarian novel, which could fit the bill for 2012.

 

It didn’t take me an hour. It took me a full four hours to write and structure and then another one  to choose extracts to read from the books. That done I realized, however, that this wasn’t the end. For a speech to have full impact it ought to be spoken not read from a piece of paper. So I memorized it on Thursday and performed it in front of my husband late Thursday evening three times and twice Friday morning before breakfast and then stood in front of the mirror and entertained myself with a few more rehearsals. By 10am I was fully prepared. I took a shower, blow dried my hair, put on a nice frock and lipstick and earrings. Peirene and I should have left the house at leisure and well in time to arrive at the Authors’ Club for the 13.00  lunch followed by the speech.  

 

“Meike, it’s 12.15, we need to go.” Peirene was standing in front of me in coat and a little matching hat and a shopping trolley in hand. She had been busy all morning wrapping our subscription gift parcels which we had started to sell on the website . We had decided to take some with us in the hope of selling them after the speech.

“I don’t want to go.” I said and knew full well that my stage fright made me sound like a stubborn toddler rather than a grown up woman. For a moment Peirene was puzzled. Then she said:

“Don’t make a fuss. You’ve prepared a beautiful speech about me. You need to deliver it now.”

She took my hand and put me into my coat and pulled me out of the door and dragged me along the road and into the underground. We didn’t speak a word to each other, but we arrived just on time.  

 

Of course, as soon as we got there both of us were all smiles. While I delivered my speech Peirene threw me supportive glances and afterwards she sold more of our gift wrapped parcels then we had ever sold before.

 

Now the nymph is dead keen to repeat this little show. She thinks my speech did her justice. She’d be happy to take bookings. And I’d be delighted to oblige. Because truth to tell, I rather enjoy giving speeches. It’s just the stage fright before I could do without.

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La Vie en Bleu - Peirene, the Pope and Alexei

Monday, September 20th, 2010

 

Peirene author No 3, Friedrich Christian Delius was in town for three days. So was the Pope. x28097

 

The first evening was a success and the Pope definitely lost out. Christian was in conversation with Blake Morrison. A match made in heaven, the authors talked about their mothers as a subject for literature. The Peirene Salon on Saturday went swimmingly too. Sold out with wine and whisky flowing till late at night.

 

It was the second event, on Friday evening, where Peirene – I admit - was left miles behind by the Pope’s mass appeal.

 

Weeks ago I approached a bookshop to see if they would like to host an event with Peirene’s author No 3. I knew this particular bookshop was supportive of independent presses. And sure enough they were delighted. I assumed as long as I did my bit to promote the event they would do theirs.  

 

A day before the Big Day, I received a phone call from them. “Sorry, we didn’t order your book in, can you bring some?” I felt a twinge of concern but of course it was too late to change course. When we arrived at the bookshop their shop window was filled with copies of a bright blue book featuring a man’s head with a dog on top. Not a single Portrait of the Mother as a Young Woman anywhere. We entered the shop. And saw blue where ever we looked. One of the owners greeted us with a big smile: “We are having a signing of Alexei Sayle tomorrow.” That was too much for my nymph. She turned on her heel and marched straight out of the shop. I just managed to grab her by the collar.

“Where you’re going, young lady?”

“I am not staying here for a single second. They haven’t done a thing to promote our event tonight. It’s an embarrassment. I am so hurt. I want to go home.”

“No, you can’t.” I dragged her back into the shop. “Christian is here, Jamie, the translator is here, and Kim who I’ve asked especially to chair this evening, is here too. We will put on the show.” The nymph shed a few more tears of disappointment while Maddy and I quietly replaced  those blue books with our beautiful, tasteful Peirene titles. And when the curtain went up we had an audience of six who witnessed a show that deserved the Royal Albert Hall – at least.

 

Afterwards, in the car, Peirene was buzzing: “Best ever evening - brilliant, so inspirational, so energizing.” I couldn’t believe my ears.

“Excuse me, can you please explain yourself? You were the one who wanted to walk out.”

“Yes, and then I thought of the Beatles and how they staged gig after gig in an unknown  Hamburg bar before they broke through. That’s us now. Perhaps we should organize a few more events in bookshops who don’t care less?”

 

Frankly, the lesson I learnt looks slightly different – with the next bookshop I will talk in advance about window and floor space and will take nothing for granted. And I might even solicit some good advice from the Vatican about how to attract large crowds.

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Showbiz in Sloane Square

Friday, June 11th, 2010

 

My nymph, I am afraid to say,  has gone of the rails! She thinks she’s a star now – a film star – living in Belgravia, hanging out with the Gucci and no-2-launch-031Armani crowd.

 

Yesterday evening saw the launch party of Peirene Title No2, Stone in a Landslide by Maria Barbal. We went to town for that event, I have to admit. We left behind the big bleak Archway tower, descended into the Underground and emerged at Sloane Square. There tucked away in a quiet road my fellow country woman Barbara Schwepcke owns Haus publishing and runs bookHaus, a delightful little bookshop. She opened her doors for us, allowed Peirene to take over the entire shop and kept the wine flowing all evening long. And guess what: Peirene had a whale of a time. She not only managed to persuade Claire Skinner – THE actress from Outnumbered – to read excerpts from the novel and invited 80 people to join in the party –she also enticed two camera teams, Catalan TV 3 and the Catalan News Agency, to film the big night and even do an interview with the two of us, herself and me.

 

The nymph of course overstayed her welcome. The event finished at 8.30. By 9.15 I had to drag her by the hair out of the shop, as poor Barbara was exhausted and wanted to lock up. Skipping along by my side, she then made me stop at every shop window in Sloane Street, nagging me to buy her – just once - a cute Chloe blouse or perhaps some tiny weeny Gucci handbag. Because, hadn’t she done well at the launch? It wasn’t fair not to reward her, she lamented. I stayed firm.

 

Today she’s been useless. Utterly useless. She’s uploaded the pictures of the evening onto Facebook and the website and is waiting for the film crew to send her the news reel so she can put it on Youtube. She says she has to prepare herself psychologically for fame which she claims is imminent.

 

I am seriously wondering if I should give her the boot. I am not very patient when it comes to people and creatures who don’t pull their weight. That’s not how you run a publishing house, is it? I’ve also been trying to tell her if fame were her goal she’s in the wrong business. We are in this for the love of the text, aren’t we. She just shrugged the shoulders at me – shameful but true. Love for the text alone won’t put the bread on the table, she said, took her coat and left. I guess she’s down in Belgravia again, searching for glamour and richess.

 

Well, what can I say? I am sure she’ll be back soon. And in the meantime let me bury my envious grudges: I do understand her. A bit of showbiz and glitz makes a nice change to life at the desk.

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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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