My Rite to Read

Watch this space!

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Duckworth publishing

The last internship was at Duckworth publishing, a publisher originally set up by Virginia Woolf's half brother Gerard Duckworth in 1898, but bought over by ex Penguin CEO Peter Mayer, the books are an eclectic bunch of fiction and non-fiction including several co-editions and new editions. The company thrives on US generated content, but there are some original voices to watch out for particularly Rohan Kriwaczek and Eric Klinenberg. A book I'm dying to read that's topical, although not revolutionary would be Going Solo. 

The words of its leader and former Penguin head, Peter Mayer, ring ominous (and true) even today when he once described the editorial quality of these books as echoing the voices of past greats. "The past need not be the dead past. If we get it right, with new books, the past can be a beacon for the future."

Charles McCarry is an author they're trying to bring over to UK next year. His books enjoy a good fanfare here. Spy thrillers, espionage novels and crime. Among the duties I performed included editing and proofing the AIs and Duckworth catalogue, preparing the basic press releases and filing press clippings and publicity and sales materials for the entire booklist of the first quarter of 2013. About twenty five books for the entire year (so far). Proofreading and suggesting changes to its editorial director and sales department were the main duties I undertook, while also researching literary press contacts and packaging and mailing invites for the publicity division.

One of the greatest things about this office are the friendly staff and Jamie maintains the sanctity of office hours for temp workers, and will never let you go over 10-5, and the reason this is especially good is, that it forces you to finish all your work within this timespan as well as enjoy an hour long lunch break in between. Ain't that neat? And the best was I got to spend all my time on a Mac again.

From Fitzrovia to Farringdon: The journey has been deep, albeit fleet footed. If Fitzrovia was the high street overladen with wealth and beautous sun facing luxury towers and offices, Farrington must be the Berlin of London;every morning I see the b(r?)awling artsy poor from last night's party scumming it into the early rays of dawn happily shuffling past single minded, many minded and absent minded throngs of office goers. Which one are you?