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The Return to the Desk

Sunday, January 15th, 2012

statue_of_liberty_detailThe first week of 2012 couldn’t have been better. My 17-year old daughter and I went on a four-day trip to New York City. Just the two of us. Husband and son stayed at home.

We visited three art galleries – MoMA, Frick and Guggenheim. We went to an opera and a Jazz club. We did some sightseeing and drank wine for lunch.

There was only one dark moment: shopping at Victoria’s Secret. Apparently this shop has become the consumer destination for any self-respecting young woman. Their flagship shop is located on Broadway. When we arrived we found the January sales in full swing. Topshop on Oxford Street resembles an oasis of peace and serenity in comparison. Eventually I parked myself outside the main entrance alongside a row of bored men playing on their mobile phones. By the time my daughter re-emerged an hour later I was ready to pay just about anything if we could leave. Only – she hadn’t found a single item. What she liked had sold out in her size. To her credit, she took the disappointment with a self-mocking smile.

If my daughter tops my Woman of 2012 list at present, Peirene, on the other hand, has managed to manoeuvre herself to the bottom of my favourite-Nymph list.

I arrived back in the office on Monday. Peirene was fuming. She didn’t even say Good Morning.

“Good of you to turn up.” She greeted me tight lipped. “In case you hadn’t realized … the world returned to work last week.”

I glanced at my inbox. The Nymph had spoken the truth. Over 300 emails. Most demanded immediate attention. Everybody – except me – had obviously returned to their desks on the 2nd of January with a New Year’s resolution to complete unfinished tasks. I put my head down and by Friday afternoon I felt back on track.

”I told you you shouldn’t have gone on such a long Christmas break.” I heard Peirene say from across the room. Since then we have worked side by side in total silence. But I don’t think we’ll keep it up for much longer. The atmosphere is already warming between us. After I sent out our belated January newsletter on Friday, I received an email from her. It read:  “Two weeks late. But well done for catching up. Pxx”

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Inspiring Lunch

Saturday, October 22nd, 2011

Running a small publishing house can be a lonely business. On a bad day authorslunch-boxdon’t want to cooperate, translators react with fury to my edits and foreign rights departments treat me as if I can’t add up. And when the Nymph decides to lie on the sofa, weeping bitter tears and threatening to pack her suitcases, then I too feel like packing my suitcases.

That’s on a bad day. But then there are other days when I realize how incredibly lucky I am in running Peirene.

A few months ago the author Sarah Lapido Manyika introduced me to her Nigerian publisher Bibi Bakare-Yusuf of Cassava Republic Press. Initially I didn’t understand why. Cassava does not publish European lit and I don’t publish books by African writers. Anyway last week we met for lunch.

We talked about our books, exchanged anecdotes and then traded marketing ideas. Although Cassava and Peirene publish different books, there are many similarities in Bibi’s and my publishing approach. We both set up our own company. We choose the texts carefully and work to perfect them. We both view publishing as a cultural responsibility and not just as a money spinning venture. And she, like me, is willing if necessary to hand-sell each and every copy.

As I walked to the tube station after the lunch, loneliness had evaporated. I had met a kindred publisher. Back at headquarters, the Nymph though was still lying on the sofa with a wet flannel across her forehead. She opened one eye when I came in.

“You’re looking cheery,” she said.

“I had a fabulous lunch.” I replied

“Where did you go?”

“It was because of the company not the place.” I was no longer in the mood to share her misery. “You are a very lucky Nymph, Peirene. It’s time you understand this. We’ve set up an exciting publishing house. There will always be people who won’t appreciate it. Get up from the sofa and let’s find the ones who do.

Peirene was so taken aback by my brisk words that she set up straight away and returned to her desk. She hasn’t moaned since.

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The Dishwasher Test

Monday, October 17th, 2011

Peirene interns are intelligent, motivated individuals before they even startgeography-fieldwork-photos-144working with us. However, by the time they finish interning here, they have developed a set of unique skills, I am sure any future employer would be thrilled to have.

So how do the Peirene ladies train them up?

Not everyone who applies receives an interview. And not everyone who is interviewed obtains a place.

It’s a careful selection process. After all, the intern has to satisfy all three Peirene ladies. The Nymph wants spark. Maddy is looking for the ability to conceive of literature as a marketable product. And I’m searching for signs of initiative and thinking outside the box.

Furthermore, we do not offer:

Photocopying experience: I like to do this myself because it gives me a break from intellectually more demanding work.

Tea making experience: Maddy likes to do that, for same reason as I like photocopying.

Spoon feeding: We assume that by the time people have reached their early twenties, they are able to eat with knife and fork.

And this is the exposure we provide:

Transferral of skills: How to use skills learned at school and university in a work environment and employ them to use tangible results.

Development of projects: We encourage our interns to deliver projects of lasting impact. Will, our first intern, set up the Novella page, Alex (our second intern) researched and approached gift shops to stock our books. Andrew, our current intern, is setting up the Peirene Nanowrimo writing competition for us.

Dishwasher loading: how to stack up a dishwasher in a most economical way.

This last point is unique to Peirene. And usually proves to be the biggest challenge for any intern.

The intern lunches with Maddy and me in the kitchen. We tend to have soup, bread and cheese. Afterwards the dishwasher is stacked. When in the evening I open the dishwasher I can see if it was done correctly. I strongly believe that if you know how to stack a dishwasher you are in control of your life and thoughts. I have learnt this wisdom from my mother. My children and husband have so far not succeeded. They load the dishwasher without any method. Our current intern Andrew, however, has great potential. He will be with Peirene until Christmas. By then he will be a master-loader of the dishwasher, a marketer of fine literature and a worthy candidate for the best jobs in publishing.

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Lessons from a Gerbil

Sunday, October 2nd, 2011

Lesson No 1geography-fieldwork-photos-139

I am not an animal lover. And I’ve always maintained that a husband and two children are enough living creatures to look after in my life. This has been my standpoint for many years. I made that clear. I thought.

I didn’t reckon with my son. He loves animals. For eleven years I ignored his innermost desires. Then I agreed to goldfish. So six months ago Chunky and Boxer moved in. First Chunky died, then Boxer. They were replaced by Shadow and Tiger. Tiger lasted a few weeks before he decided to leave for the Happy Hunting Grounds, followed shortly afterwards by Shadow. We now have four goldfish buried in our back garden.  It’s been a traumatic few months. The death of goldfish no 1 left me pretty untouched. But by the time we said good-bye to No 3, I, too felt the loss.

Last Friday was my son’s birthday. We now have two new tenants. Kevin, a black gerbil and Stuart his light grey friend. Can’t say I love them yet. And indeed I might never do. As I was lying in bed last night I thought of these gerbils in my son’s room and that if they ever managed to escape they’d probably eat their way through all our clothes, towels and sheets. My only consolation: my son’s happiness. He kept repeating to his dad his delighted amazement “I can’t believe I own two proper animals”. I was of course touched and  secretly I am preparing myself for a change of attitude towards Kevin and Stuart. Although I can’t yet admit to it fully out loud.

Lesson No 2

Keen followers of Peirene might have noticed that we are changing our business strategy and our approach to selling the books. Via the subscription model. If you like Peirene books, then please subscribe – as if we were a magazine. For £25 you will receive three books of world-class literature in excellent, beautiful translations directly delivered to your door plus 40% discount for you and a guest at all the Peirene events. Each book you can read in an evening. Three inspiring evenings for £25 only. I don’t think you’ll find a cheaper option. But of course I am aware, what I am asking readers to do is to change the way they think about book buying. I assume for many it’s a change on the same scale as allowing pets into the house.

“You needed eleven and a half years for that change to set in.” Peirene points out matter-of-factly.

“Exactly, there is hope.  I am scared of any animals you care to mention – dogs, horses, cows. If I can invite gerbils into my house surely others will welcome three beautiful books bought through subscription. “

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How to court a Lady (-Publisher)

Monday, July 4th, 2011

 

Every now and again, I wonder about the courting techniques of men. And of male writers in particular. work_1415961_1_flat550x550075f_courting-peacock

 

As we all know, courting is about pretence. It’s a game. And I like that game – if it is played well.

 

I am sometimes approached by writers directly – always men, never women. And frankly in most cases, I’d like to have a word with their mothers. Apparently they have never taught their sons the art of gallantry.

 

So, because their mothers didn’t do the job well enough, may I point out some of the fundamental principles of courtship.

 

The most important rule: If you try to chat up a woman, look her into the eye and not straight passed her. And if the lady is a publisher, that means look at her website and find out what she publishes. Then, ideally offer her what she wants. If, however, you haven’t got what she wants but you still want to try your luck, take her rebuff in a light hearted spirit. In that way she might at least keep a pleasant memory of you.

 

If she fails to reply, be patient. Under no circumstances, resend your email every other day. Generally she tries to respond to every email but if you’re email is the third or fourth in the day offering her a 500-page novel, while she is only interested in novellas, please forgive any delays. If you then ring her, be prepared for a polite but firm “No, thank you.” To which you ought to reply with a nice, cheery good-buy and “hopefully our paths will cross one day”. Don’t put down the phone in a huff.  Also, do try to avoid  ringing her on weekends. Her husband might answer and will tell you that he is only the publisher’s husband and can not decide what is published and what not. Furthermore, don’t feel obliged to write letters to her husband requesting that he put in a good word with his wife. The husband always shows such letters to his wife. And the wife is not impressed.

 

 

I am now letting you into a secret – a secret I will tell my son in due time: Women are simple creatures. Give them exactly what they want, wrapped up nicely with lots of compliments – and yes, most women do know what they want . Better still, if the lady is a publisher she tends to announce what she wants on her website. Read carefully, respond well - and you will be a happy man.

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Battle Glory

Tuesday, June 28th, 2011

 

A mighty roar hung in the air. From the North the fierce Scouse tribe came marching, banging their metal shields, hungry for revenge. Fromviking_onboard the Southern seas the Greek gods arrived, swift on their feet, hurling thunder and lightening above their heads. They came face-to-face in Bloomsbury Square. The battle was mighty. And the deeds of its heroes will be remembered till eternity.

 

Actually this battle really happened. Last week. And since we live in the 21st century, here is the twitter account of the historic event.

 

I have to confess it all started with a tweet I posted on the 20th of June. I wrote the tweet in total innocence, of course:

Sad joys of a small publisher:Meike’s over the moon, Peirene fb just hit 702 likers & has left @QuercusBooks in numbers of fb likers behind

 

To which the guys from Quercus replied:

Don’t cross me @PeirenePress! http://t.co/B15wCQZ has 701 likers, so I just need to phone me Dad!

 

But they didn’t reckon with the Peirene Ladies

@QuercusBooks try us! we’re 3 Peirene Ladies in office today, 4 incl the Nymph, so lots of dads & uncles & brothers & greek gods to call upon

 

Soon the Scouse tribe was advancing:

@PeirenePress I shall invoke the Scouse nation. And we shall triumph!

 

… and the Greek gods called upon:

@QuercusBooks oooh, the ancient Greek world shall rise again and hurry to the defence of the Peirene Ladies

 

A few tweets later, the Liverpudlian war cry was heard:

Big shout to @PeirenePress for being such good sports… Lots of love from Quercus Towers. Now, back to the rivalry: we will crush you!

 

… and for a while it was looking good for the tribe from the North. They acquired 18 new facebook friends that afternoon:

@QuercusBooks The Peirene ladies are shrieking, you’re ahead again. Boo. Can’t decide wtr to sulk or to bribe you to tell me your secret.

 

But a couple of hours later, Peirene triumphed:

@QuercusBooks Do we have you running scared,my lovelies? You wdn’t be frightened of little old us wd you? Our fb fans are better than yours!

 

It was such fun. And truth to tell, the twitter guys from Quercus and the Peirene Ladies are friends. When we meet up at conferences or for a drink, we talk to each other very amicably. Very civilized.

 

P.S: The latest facebook score: 724-766. I can’t possible say for whom. That would be unfair and not very professional (but actually…)

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Sparkling News

Monday, June 20th, 2011

 

We have received some fantastic news: Peirene Press has been awarded a major grant from the Arts Council England for our 2012 series of the Small Epic. Needless to say, the Peirene Ladies are thrilled.e6_1

 

We all reacted to the news in our own ways, mind. Maddy couldn’t breathe and had to sit down. I had tears in my eyes and a couple even ran down my cheeks. The Nymph sent me an email from across the room: “I’m taking the afternoon off. I need to go shopping. I assume that a pay-rise is imminent.”

 

After the initial shock had subsided, Maddy and I planned a couple of parties. The two of us will have a ladies’ night out in two weeks time, and in three weeks there will be a dinner for all the Peirene People. The Nymph, Maddy and I  will be joined by Peirene’s designer Sacha, Peirene’s webmaster Tom, Peirene’s contract advisor Margaret, plus our partners and spouses. And then in July we will be running a celebration competition on twitter and facebook. I can’t yet reveal the prize, but I can promise that much – it will be something better than a book or bag.

 

Once the party planning was done,  I had to break some bad news to Peirene: the grant does not cover the salary demands of an ancient Greek nymph. And if anyone deserved a pay-rise then it would be Maddy, who is responsible for submitting the beautifully thought-through funding application in the first place.

 

“I’m your inspiration. How can you not value me?” The Nymph dissolved in tears. I was slightly taken aback by her full-on drama queen act. Surely she must have guessed that her chances for a pay-rise were slim. Nevertheless, I put the arm around her.

“I do value you. But it is a value that can not be assessed in money terms.”

“In order to inspire you I need to look good. I need nice dresses, I need to do my nails, my hair – the lot. All of this costs money.”

“Well, than you need to sell more books.”

“You’re obsessed with selling books. I’m in the book business for artistic and creative reasons. Selling books is so commercial.”

 “We need to sell books so we can publish more wonderful books. You know that. It’s simple. And what’s more, we are good at it. We get people to buy and read our books who never read foreign fiction. The Arts Council recognized it and that’s why they are supporting us. So stop behaving like a spoiled princess.”

 

For a moment Peirene looked at me in silent astonishment. Then the sparkle returned to her eye.

“Fair enough. So, no new dresses until we have sold some more books.” She shrugged her shoulder. “I can live with that. But only if I can  come with you and Maddy to your Ladies’ night out.”

So that’s what had been bothering her – my poor Nymph  felt excluded. I smiled at her.

“Of course you can come. We can’t toast Peirene without you.”

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English Summer Heat

Sunday, June 5th, 2011

 

Thanks to Peirene the British book market has been enriched over the last 18 months by the following:geography-fieldwork-photos-098

- a narrative about the dark side of motherhood

- a classic love story set in the mountain

- an analysis of war-time society told in a single sentence

- a clever, well-crafted, psychological mystery

 

All of these books are best-sellers in their own countries, and some, like No 1, Beside the Sea, and No 2, Stone in a Landslide, have become bestsellers across continental Europe.

 

But I have to admit none of them sound like the fool-proof bestseller material for the insular English market. And sure enough none of them has yet hit sales figures in the tens of thousands.

 

However this is about to change – if you trust Maddy and myself. We unanimously believe that we have a true English best-seller at our hands.

 

Or, to put it more realistically: Peirene No 5, Tomorrow Pamplona by Dutch author Jan van Mersbergen, represents our best shot yet for a best-sellerdom. The book will be released this week.

 

Here is a list of evidence to support our claim:

- suspense and tension: features a protagonist with a mysterious past

- sex: three fab sex scenes – do I need to say more?

- violence: after all one of the protagonists is a boxer

- value for money: 189 gages, it can’t get much thicker than that in the Peirene “less than 200 page” world.

 

In addition – and as a little extra so to speak -  Tomorrow Pamplona is a fantastic book about men and masculinity - their aggressions, their anxieties and their longing for intimacy.

 

And all of the above of course without compromising literary quality. The narrative rhythm and sparse style reflects and compliments the subject matter beautifully.

 

The Peirene Ladies are convinced Tomorrow Pamplona will add heat to the English summer.

 

The Nymph herself, however, has some doubts. “And what if everybody is going abroad for some sun and fun? They won’t need juicy stories to spice up their lives. They’ll experience it themselves.”

 

Peirene may be worried but I, for once, am not. “Luckily for us, we live on an island.” I calm her down. “Everyone heading south has to take a plane or ship. And there is nothing better than a two-hour book to ease the boredom of travel.”

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Hearth Cooking

Monday, March 21st, 2011

 

This week was a wonderful week because my eleven-year-old son went to school five days running. It’s the first time since the beginning ofcooking-pot-winter-waldema the school year.

 

He suffers from migraine. Over the last six months the headaches have become much more frequent and far worse. Once a week he has to spend a day in bed, vomiting and crying for hours with pain.

 

We’ve had him checked out from head to toe. We’ve looked at food patterns, psychology and school routines.  I’ve been to specialists, osteopaths, homeopaths. No solution.

 

Last week it got even worse. While in the Peirene world I received awards and our first book was long-listed for the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize, at home things felt desperate. My son was off school Tuesday and Friday.

 

Fast forward: On Monday I went to see Danny Boyle’s adaptation of “Frankenstein” at the National Theatre. The staging and acting impressed my 16-year-old daughter. “Best play I’ve ever seen,” she stated. “Thank you for taking me,” and I even got a kiss on the cheek.

 

The evening was worth it for the daughterly kiss but I didn’t share her opinion about the play. Why spend so much time and money on a production that gives us – yet again – the same old (mis-) interpretation of the text. In my view Frankenstein is not about the monster, it is not even about the question “Who is the monster: the creator or the creature?” No. Frankenstein is Mary Shelley (note the “stein”, German for “stone” in the name, as in Woll-stone-craft, Mary’s mother who died a few days after giving birth to her) and the text is a brilliant expression of the female struggle with her own creativity. Is a woman allowed to create other than in the biological sense? Is a woman allowed to create in a private and public sphere and if she does, will she be able to take responsibility for her creature? Is there a price to pay?

 

Women are as creative, as intelligent, as what-ever as men. We know that nowadays. And if you take a creative industry such as publishing, 85% of the work-force consists of women. But most hide behind men.

 

When I went to the IPG gala event ten days ago, I couldn’t help notice that of this year’s eleven Independent Publishers Awards, nine prizes were received by men. Only two by women. Berg Publishers and Peirene.

 

As I was sitting the day after the award gala at my son’s bedside, a frightening thought suddenly flickered through my mind: can I have both a healthy family and professional success? What if the price I have to pay for Peirene’s awards is the health of my son? That of course would mean giving up Peirene.

 

I am pleased to announce, I forbade myself to follow that paranoiac thought any further. But it’s interesting that it came to me in the first place. I asked my husband if he had a similar thought. He looked at me in bewilderment. To link his professional success with his son’s migraines had never crossed his mind.

 

Peirene, of course, has her own, ancient-Greek-Nymph take on this story: “You’re absolutely right in making the link between the migraine and the award, “ she told me cheerfully. “Only in a positive way. Since the award arrived on the mantle piece, your son hasn’t had a migraine attack. The hearth has always been the centre of the house. If there is a nice stew brewing, everyone is happy.”

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Peirene & the Oscars

Tuesday, March 15th, 2011

 

Peirene has won an Oscar!  To be precise: The Independent Publishers’ Guild Newcomer of the Year Award 2011. In the world ofimg_3434 independent publishing that is the equivalent to the Oscars. And there is no need to titter at the Oscar comparison:  The IPG is made up of 560 Indy British publishers, including big players such as Faber & Faber and Canongate. Each year they award eleven prizes, for achievements such as  Best Innovation, Best Consumer Publisher, Best International Achievement and this year, for the first time, Best Newcomer.  

 

On Thursday, Maddy and I with the Nymph in tow got into the car and drove beyond Oxford to Chipping Norton. We were one of three short-listed publishers for the Newcomer Award. The winner was to be announced at the  Gala dinner that evening. The Nymph was complaining: “Why can’t they hold the event at the Hilton on Park Lane? Anyway, we are not going to win. Basically we are just driving up and down the motorway for nothing.”

 

At dinner I sat next to Alan Grierson, the director of BrightRed Publishing, one of the other two Best Newcomer short-listed publishers. He told me that annually they ship out of their warehouse tens of thousands of books ( I have to confess he told me the exact figure but it has in fact slipped my mind). I, in return,  told him about our innovative marketing technique of reaching out to new readers via our literary salons, coffee mornings and roaming store. The Nymph made me a sign from the other end of the table. I followed her to the Ladies. “This is embarrassing, let’s go home.” She insisted. I shook my head and practiced my little acceptance speech one more time – just in case.

 

After the dinner, the award ceremony commenced. The Newcomer Award was the sixth on the list. When Peirene’s name was announced, all I heard was a rushing in my ears, and then the applause. I saw Maddy at another table throw up her arms. I stood up, walked onto the stage, received the award, a picture was taken. I thanked everybody and gave my little speech and walked down and sat down. And that was it. It went by in a flash. At that moment all I remember thinking was that I had kept me nerves under control and I was pleased about that. Now I would love to repeat those couple of  minutes at least one more time, if not twice or three times, to really relish and cherish them.  But I guess that is fame – it comes and goes in a flash.

 

On Friday, I received many wonderful congratulation emails. My favourite is from another publisher, John Conway from Essential Works, who I first met when both of us were watching our sons play football one Sunday morning two years ago: “I remember you telling me on a windswept touchline in Regents Park that you were about to start a new publishing company and I thought you were moderately mad. Or maybe it was passion - and it is wonderful to see that has turned to success.”

 

The Nymph has decided to take a couple of days off. “One needs to celebrate one’s successes when they come along,” she told me. For once she is right. And a company outing should be on the agenda soon. But for the time being someone needs to keep the show on the road. And the Nymph clearly isn’t. I spent my Sunday manning a stall at Lauderdale House selling books to sceptical passers-by.  Important work – but  I felt a long way from that black-tie dinner.

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