Where are all the Christmas parties?

Over the past few years December has always looked like a minefield – the calendar was chock-full of Christmas dinners and parties. This year we looked at our diaries and the only invitation was from the Elvis Presley Society of Great Britain, which unfortunately we had to turn down as it clashes with Advent Service at our kids' school. Either we have suddenly become personae non gratae or the publishing world has run out of money.

Luckily enough, Italians are not daunted by the crisis and are in as festive a mood as ever (remember the good old days of the Credit Crunch? Sigh. We are now officially in recession until further notice). So it will be a good year for turkeys – and for us there will be a lot of Prosecco, lasagna and panettone.

Cin cin!

The Slowest Order

I had lunch with an author at our favourite local restaurant today and, just as we were about to order our food and drinks, a Spanish family of four sat next to us. I found it difficult to talk to my author, as the Spaniards kept reading, translating and commenting the menu. The negotiations carried on until our food was served, then they started joking. We got our coffee and I asked for the bill. When I was walking out of the restaurant, they signalled the waitress that they were ready to order.

The Fastest Reader in the World

Coming back on the train from Hull today, where I attended the launch of our Lightship Anthology yesterday, I sat next to the fastest reader I have ever met in my life. We left Doncaster at around 11:00am. I noticed that the woman was reading a book by Michael Connelly – I don't know which one because the publisher doesn't use running headers. I saw she was on Chapter 5 when I sat next to her. Ten minutes later I happen to glance over my shoulder and saw she was at the beginning of Chapter 11. "That can't be right," I thought. So I tried to time her reading and realized that she could read 2 pages in 25 seconds, and 4 pages in 50 seconds. Obviously she was quicker when there was dialogue – and they were fairly normal pages of around 250 words each. When we reached Kings Cross she was on page 300 or something, only around 150 pages to go – about half an hour. I am green with envy, having managed to get through only about 50 manuscript pages in the same time.

* * *

A Greek, an Italian and a Portuguese go to the pub and get something to drink. Who pays?

The German.

The trials and pleasures of a Oneworld Classics’ intern

In between stuffing hundreds of envelopes with our catalogues to send out to our avid readers, I’ve somehow managed to significantly educate myself about two of the most exciting operas around: Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro and Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin. The bright yellow Le nozze di Figaro guide is one of the thickest in the series and there is certainly no shortage of material, including alternative ariettas written for the librettist’s mistress, a whistle-stop tour in how to analyze recitative, and a performance history where the author definitely does not lack choice! The guide traces the history from Mozart’s original inspiration by the acerbic Beaumarchais play commenting on French society right through to the twenty-first century productions that seem to favour jocks, celebrity culture and fast cars.

Learning about the tragic antihero Eugene Onegin has been just as rewarding, not least because of my first, rather underwhelming, exposure to the opera. My parents took me to a rather drab local production when I was far too young for it, but, reading about the plot, the characters, and the live wire of emotions that underscores the music and the drama of it all, I still can’t understand how, even aged 11, I managed to be bored by it! Even in the more academic history of the work, I was surprised by the huge variety of interpretations that have been produced, despite most managing to stay loyal to the rural folk setting that is so key to the characters’ inevitable fates.

Discovering the in-depth histories behind these operas combined with a pre-existing love for their music has certainly whet my appetite for ENO’s season. Fiona Shaw, who directs The Marriage of Figaro, demonstrates physically all the madness of the plot in this ‘Folle Journée’ using a revolving stage – watch her discuss it on the Andrew Marr Show here. I’m especially excited to see Eugene Onegin as it features tenor Toby Spence, a personal idol of mine.

Imogen Sebba

Intern

Event: The Tomb of Ugo Foscolo

We’re delighted to hear that the Tomb of Ugo Foscolo has now been restored to its former glory. To celebrate the completion of its restoration there will be a ceremony at the graveyard of St Nicholas’s Church in Chiswick, London W4 2PJ (please see the enclosed map for directions), hosted by His Excellency the Italian Ambassador on Saturday 10th September at 11 o’clock.

The monument was created by Carlo Marochetti, a sculptor from Turin, on commission by Hudson Gurney who, knowing how dear the illusion of a sepulchre was to the Venetian poet – a symbol of civilization and eternal care – made sure that Foscolo’s earthly remains were not just interred in a common mound of earth.

Marochetti created a granite structure harking back to a Roman altar, with the coat of arms of Foscolo’s family tied by a ribbon with the ensign’s Latin motto “accingar zona fortitudinis”.

After lying in a state of disrepair for decades, the tomb has been restored thanks to the dedicated work of a charity set up for the purpose of recovering this important monument – not just to Ugo Foscolo but to Italian poetry and to all the politically persecuted exiles in the world.

I hope you will be able to come along and, if you interested in finding out more about Ugo Foscolo and some of his major poetical works, why not pick up a copy of our edition of his Sepolcri (Selpuchres), with a selection of his poems.

I Write Like

During a lovely dinner with one of our authors I was made aware of the existence of I Write Like (incidentally, I love its egotistical web suffix ".me") a website that purports to tell you which writer you are most akin to in terms of style. Our author tried a few paragraphs from her novel and her writing was flatteringly compared to a number of major authors, including Leo Tolstoy – because that's the trick, she told me: you are only ever compared to some of the greatest authors in the world of literature, so there's no chance your ego can get beaten.

Sure as hell that night, before going to bed I put my prose through the acid test of the I Write Like website. I didn't dare try any bits from BESTSELLER, but picked three paragraphs from the first two pages of my new novel.

The results were as follow:

First paragraph: Arthur Clarke. Here my heart sunk – do they mean "Arthur C. Clarke", the science-fiction writer? But I don't think I've ever read anything by him – I've only watched a few times the film 2001, A Space Odyssey, which I don't think it counts as an influence. Or do they mean some other unknown Arthur Clarke, the author of out-of-print erotica? Not a good start.

Second paragraph: Vladimir Nabokov. Oh my God – not a name I wanted to see cropping up! You may remember I said once that I wasn't all that impressed by his prose – at least the prose of his short stories . . .

Third paragraph (brace yourself): Dan Brown! I will add no comments to this – I just hope to be able to make a hundredth of the money he did with his pot-boiler.

Conclusions: either my new novel is going to be a Lolita meets The Da Vinci Code with a sprinkling of 2001: A Space Odyssey kind of novel, or I Write Like is total bullshit.

I tend to favour the second possibility.

AG

PS: What would happen if one were to try with a piece of real Tolstoy?

Exotic Lands

It’s been a busy couple of weeks for reviews, with two each for Kapka Kassabova’s Villa Pacifica and Stephen Parkin’s new translation of Edmondo de Amicis’s Constantinople.

The Scotsman praised Kassabova’s handling of the dreamlike, fantastical elements of her new novel, set in an idiosyncratic animal sanctuary on the coast of South America, and went on to describe it as “intelligent, psychologically compelling… a truly mesmerising read.” Kevin Rushby, writing for the Guardian, compared Kassabova to Joseph Conrad, particularly in her “accuracy and economy”, adding: “Kassabova unleashes a smart turn of literary speed with a deliciously unexpected ending.”

Time Out recommended Constantinople for its “lavish detail and curiosities of Istanbul”, noting that de Amicis’s two-volume travelogue is “as quintessentially Victorian as Edward Gibbon’s The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire and Sir Leslie Stephen’s Dictionary of National Biography.” Over at the TLS, Roderick Conway Morris called Stephen Parkin’s translation in for particular praise, describing it as “assured and lively, catching well the spirit of the original”. On the original itself, he was no less complimentary: “Edmondo de Amicis’s book conjures up the eternal harem of Western imaginings, of alluring Oriental deshabille and sensual decadence behind closed doors.”

He also points out that there's a view of Cairo on the cover, not of Istanbul – well, the image was clearly labelled on Getty Images and it was an intentional licence by our designer – totally lost on our exacting critic of course. . .