Feature Publishing women
The lukewarm response chimed with the news coming out of the industry at the time. “Publishing industry is overwhelmingly white and female,” a Guard- ian headline ominously read (add the word “single” and it would have made a horror worthy of a movie adap- tation). A survey of the workforce at 34 book publish- ers and eight review journals in the US found that 79% of staff were white and 78% female. The Man Booker winner Marlon James was not impressed, criticising publishers for too oſten seeking fiction that “pandered to that archetpe of the white woman, that long-suffer- ing, astringent prose set in suburbia”. The data said it all: there was no need for a discussion on gender imbalance; women had become like locusts. They were everywhere. It was like The Handmaid’s Tale in reverse. Or was it?
I’m sorry, I was wrong
When I set up my women-only publishing house I had one rule: There would be no flowers, buterflies or hearts on the covers. I was of the opinion that the pastel-coloured artwork which so oſten adorns novels by women—and makes the books look more like Valen- tine’s Day cards than literature—was to blame for the fact that women’s fiction was generally judged to be inferior to the works of men. Today, 10 years on, I’ve come to realise that I was wrong. Instead of solving the problem, my no-flowers rule was contributing to it. Things are changing for the beter. Women make up the majorit of workers within the publishing industry. In Iceland now, 45% of translated fiction is writen by women. But equalit is not only about quantit. Those who scorned Shamsie’s Year of Publishing
Women shamelessly ignored the core of her message: there is still a significant gender bias in book awards, reviews (the latest VIDA Count—the annual tallying of gender statistics in reviews—still shows a shocking male dominance). The women may be doing the work, but the power and the prestige is still afforded to men. Margaret Atwood said in 1971: “When a man writes about things like doing the dishes, it’s realism; when a woman does it, it’s an unfortunate genetic limitation.” Judging by James’ remarks about “that long-suffering, astringent prose set in suburbia”, the derogatory ati- tudes towards the stle women write in, and their choice of subject mater, haven’t changed. By banishing flowers from the covers of my books, I was fighting for women’s equalit on men’s terms. I was playing by their rules. It’s not enough puting women on the agenda. We
need to set the agenda. We need to change the patriar- chal view of what is considered “literary worth”. Instead of banishing flowers and buterflies, we should celebrate them; we should take pride in our “suburban” subject maters and make no apologies for our “astringent prose”. Then maybe, in another 10 years’ time, we might see true gender equalit in literature.
Sif Sigmarsdóttir is a bestselling Icelandic author and political journalist. Her first novel in English, I am Traitor (Hodder Children’s Books), is out now
www.thebookseller.com
Three years on Shamsie’s Year of Publishing Women
In 2015, author Kamila Shamsie pictured wrote an opinion piece for The Bookseller, in which she challenged publishers to release only (new) books written by women in 2018, the cente- nary of some women getting the right to vote in the UK. The idea was in response to research which showed that the bulk of major literary prizes were less likely to be awarded to titles written by a woman, or focusing on “female” experiences—and that male authors still garnered the lion’s share of media coverage. Shamsie wrote: “The question isn’t: ‘Is there are problem?’ It’s: ‘Are we recognising how deep it runs, and what are we going to do about it?’” Reaction to Shamsie’s call was
mixed. Fellow author Lionel Shriver—the 2005 winner of the Women’s Prize for Fiction (then called the Orange Prize)— speaking at an International Women’s Day panel shortly after Shamsie’s suggestion, said the idea was “rubbish… This whole thing of treating women specially, as if they need special help and special rules, is problematic and obviously backfires”. Many, like Curtis Brown joint c.e.o. Jonny Geller, agreed with Shamsie’s
general point, saying it “was right to draw attention to the outdated foibles of literary pages and the condescending attitude to ‘female oriented’ fiction by publishers (whose employees are still predominantly women). But depriving the reading public of any book on the basis of gender, race or creed is surely antithetical to everything that culture stands for? I would support any initia- tive to promote women’s fiction and new voices but never at the expense of another writer’s.”
One UK publisher did answer the call: indie literary list And Other Stories. It will publish 12 women novelists in 2018; its next issue is Alicia Kopf’s Brother in Ice (out 23rd April). But there have been other initiatives within the book trade responding, at least in part, to Shamsie’s suggestion. Children’s Books Ireland initiated a year-long proj- ect called Bold Girls, which celebrates and promotes Irish women writers; Waterstones’ Norwich branch will fill its staff recommendations bay only with books written by women throughout 2018; and a new award launched—the Women in Translation Prize is backed by Warwick University.
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Photography: Granta
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