Five years ago, when we opened Europa Editions, people seemed to think we’d lost our minds. We came from a decades-long experience as independent publishers in Italy, and the idea that we would go risking our reputations, and the economic well-being of our Italian house by opening an independent press in America, one largely dedicated to fiction in translation, struck many friends and colleagues as mere foolhardiness, or perhaps the early signs of nascent senility. And maybe it was. But the idea that so many exceptional writers from abroad were not making their way to American readers due to resistance from the publishing industry itself, resistance that is as hard to explain as it is to overcome, was a siren song too seductive and intriguing to ignore. We founded Europa Editions with the idea of publishing quality fiction and non-fiction, much of it by foreign authors who were not otherwise being considered by the majority of American houses. Our project was as much a cultural enterprise as a business venture. We were convinced that dialogue between nations and cultures was more important than ever, and that this exchange was facilitated by literature chosen not only for its ability to entertain and fascinate, but also to inform and enlighten. We remain true to this ideal today.

In these five years, we have been surprised and delighted to discover that what we suspected might be true was indeed thus: American readers are not insular, or resistant to foreign literature, as they are often accused of being. Our authors’ books have been read and appreciated in the U.S. We have published numerous titles that have sold well, been reviewed widely and welcomed warmly by booksellers and readers alike. We have encountered no real resistance from the public; on the  contrary, the appreciative comments we receive from readers and booksellers alone have been enough for us to feel that Europa Editions is a success. And the successes we’ve had in terms of sales over the course of these first years have allowed us to continue in an enterprise that many considered doomed to fail.

Three years ago we read and acquired a book that is today celebrating one year (its first year?) on the New York Times best seller list: the unassuming story of a French concierge and a young girl who become friends. Beautifully written, with a sprinkle of philosophy, the book had just begun to receive attention in France. Its author was a relatively unknown professor of philosophy at a small school in Normandy. We knew as we began reading this book that we were on to something big. But we could never have imagined how big, nor dream that anything like what has happened would indeed happen.

The Elegance of the Hedgehog has been read by well over half a million people in America since its publication in September 2008. Naturally, not all of them have loved it, but those who have speak about it—on blogs and web sites, in reading groups, with booksellers, and in messages sent to its publisher—as a life-changing book, one that, for the beauty of its writing and the story it tells, has moved them deeply. It is difficult and potentially ruinous to examine too closely the anatomy of a bestseller. All we are inclined to say about The Elegance of the Hedgehog and the characteristics that have made of it a best seller is that the book has touched a nerve in readers; its message responds to a need that apparently is widely felt at this moment. And not only by American readers: wherever it has been published, readers have embraced this remarkable book. It has sold over two million copies in France, one million in Italy, and millions more in the thirty odd countries in which it has been published. Much of this success has come about not through sophisticated or costly publicity, not through the designs of some marketing wizard, but simply by word of mouth: readers talking with other readers about a book they loved.

This kind of event happens once in a very long while in publishing, and it is one that we are honored and thrilled to be a part of. We hope, too, that the story of the Hedgehog’s success in English may in time prove to be a watershed event in American publishing, one that signals a growing openness to foreign fiction.

There is probably no need to mention what this kind of success means for a young, independent publishing house. All that really needs to be said is that we now look forward to many more years of publishing fine literature in America.

Our heartfelt thanks to the enchanting Muriel Barbery, author of this extraordinary book; to her translator, Alison Anderson; to the reviewers, booksellers, and sales people at Penguin who have embraced this novel and its publisher; and to the people involved in French Voices, a program that supported the translation of Hedgehog and many works of fine French literature along with it. And most of all, we’d like to thank those hundreds of thousands of readers who have enjoyed The Elegance of the Hedgehog and shared their enjoyment with others.

Sandra Ozzola Ferri & Sandro Ferri

Muriel Barbery is lovely, not unlike the exquisite prose of her runaway hit novel, The Elegance of the Hedgehog. Why a hedgehog? She shakes her head.

“The whole time [the novel] was just called 'Renee' [the name of the narrator, the concierge in a ritzy Parisian apartment building], but we wanted something joyful, mysterious. My husband, Stephane, suggested the title.” (In hindsight, Renee does have hedgehog qualities) Muriel's husband, whom she met when she was 23, has been an enormous influence on her writing. He encouraged her to publish—she credits him with being an excellent first reader; she calls the milieu of the hedgehog “his universe.” And he made her fall in love with Japan, where they now live—in the city of Kyoto, which she says is like “living in a dream.”

Before Hedgehog, published in the U.S. in 2008—it has been translated into more than 20 languages, has sold to date 1.2 million copies in France (it first appeared there in 2006), 800,000 in Italy and has 170,000 copies in print in the U.S., where it sits on the New York Times bestseller list—there was Une Gourmandise, Barbery's first novel, published in France in 2000. Europa Editions, which bought Hedgehog before any of the hoopla, is publishing this first novel in September, with the English title Gourmet Rhapsody.

At the center of the story is a renowned food critic, Pierre Arthens. “I am the greatest food critic in the world,” he announces in the first chapter. Unfortunately, or fortunately for the reader, Arthens is dying, in the same apartment building on the rue de Grenelle where Hedgehog takes place. With 48 hours to live, he is obsessed with rediscovering a flavor from his early life: “A forgotten flavor, lodged in my deepest self, and which has surfaced at the twilight of my life as the only truth ever told during that lifetime—or the only true thing ever accomplished.”

During those 48 hours, his curmudgeonly temperament is revealed as he recalls episodes from his childhood in Greece, Tangiers, Brittany. Interspersed are the voices of characters as varied as his children, his mistress, his wife and even his cat. The taste that finally arrives is a surprise and lends a wonderful, ironic twist. Barbery shrugs, explaining simply that she didn't like Arthens very much, so in the end he doesn't discover some long-lost exotic flavor, but he does understand the meaning of life.

Gourmet Rhapsody shows all the skill of Hedgehog and deals with the same themes: social class, philosophy, Japan and food, glorious descriptions of all kinds of food. Barbery, 40, says she doesn't cook, but has always been “a big eater” (although she's as slim and graceful as a reed. French women...?), and she's fascinated with chefs, having spent time watching some of the great ones at work in their restaurant kitchens in France. As for Japan, Stephane was given a record of Japanese flute music when he was a boy and became enamored of all things Japanese. He planned to spend a year there studying, but chose to stay with Barbery, who did not want him to leave France. His attraction to the culture, though, was infectious, and when Hedgehog made it possible, they moved to Japan, where they've been living for the past year and a half and where Barbery is writing her third novel.

Will she talk about it? No, not at all, but unerringly polite, she adds, “I can say it's about Japan, because that's where I am living.” Gracious, shy, hesitant with her excellent and very charming English, often turning to her translator for clarification, Barbery is most of all grateful for her success. She is not interested in why; she's undisturbed by critics and says simply of Hedgehog: “I didn't think anyone would read it, not in France, then not in Italy, and especially not in the U.S. I can't believe it, and it all makes me very happy.”

By Louisa Ermelino

This light but ultimately affecting novel has been a tremendous success for its author, Muriel Barbery. This is her second novel; the first, “Gourmet Rhapsody,” was well reviewed but did not achieve the same kind of meteoric success. Since its publication in France in 2006, “The Elegance of the Hedgehog” has been translated into 31 languages and received many literary prizes. It was published in English in 2008 and has spent five months on the New York Times bestseller list, where it is currently at #13.

The University at Albany’s Writers’ Institute had planned to bring Ms. Barbery to Albany for a reading and panel discussion on April 28, but difficulties with the other panelists’ schedules have forced the cancellation of the entire event. We were able, however, to interview the author by email recently about the book and how its success has affected her.

Q: Your book has been extremely successful in France and internationally. Has that success changed your life in many ways? Has it made it easier for you to devote yourself to your writing, or has it created new pressures?

A: Many things have changed in my life, but not the essential things. My goals, aspirations, friends, and tastes have not changed. On the contrary, we’ve been able to realize what has for many years been our fondest dream, that is, to live in Japan, in Kyoto. I am free of all constraints and obligations, that is, beyond the obligation to write, which I freely consent to. As far as pressure is concerned, yes, that exists; but it does not have anything to do with success, which, on the contrary, has afforded me conditions that are exceptionally favorable to creativity. I feel exactly the same things I felt during the period between my first and my second novel, when I was completely unknown. I worry at not being able to write what I want; I am afraid of not progressing far enough, of deceiving myself.

Q: How did the idea for these characters come to you?

A: Renée, the concierge, was a secondary character in my first novel. I ended up reading some of the chapters of “Gourmet Rhapsody” several years after it had been published — totally by chance, because the book was buried in my library. And as I was reading I recalled something my editor had told me. In the original manuscript, I had Renée talking in a way that was extremely crude, stereotypical; she came across as a caricature of a concierge. My editor said : “You’re a novelist, anything is possible; your concierge could just as well express herself like the Duchess of Guermantes.” I remembered these words and I suddenly had the urge to attempt the voice of a well-read and erudite concierge; I sat down at my desk and wrote the first pages of “Hedgehog.”

As far as Paloma is concerned, she emerged a little bit later and rather by chance during the rewriting. My husband (and first reader) found the character interesting and suggested I give her a voice.

Q: When you were writing, did you move back and forth between the two characters after a few pages, the way the book does? Or did you spend more time with each character before returning to the other?

A: Well, I wrote more than two hundred pages in which there was a single voice, that of Renée. Then Paloma emerged. I then changed the voice so as to insert the new chapters of the young girl between those of the concierge. Finally, I had almost finished using this technique of alternating voices. Only a few chapters from the end did I begin writing both characters concurrently.

Q: Can I ask what brought you to Japan? Both your main characters love Japan — is this something that you share in common with them? What aspects of Japanese culture interest you?

A: Yes, of course, the interest Renée and Paloma have for Japan is mine, and my husband’s, who actually introduced me to Japan. “Interest” is far too weak a word: we have long been lovers of Japanese culture and since we moved to Kyoto, a town that we are head over heels in love with, our feelings for this country have been confirmed. Our fascination began mostly as an aesthetic one, and has remained so: we are fascinated by the ability to create pure beauty, at the same time refined and pure; the kind of thing you see in the slow, sweet sumptuousness of Ozu’s films, in the splendor of the Japanese gardens, in the discreet sophistication of ikebana … It has had us under its spell for over ten years. And we are still at the dawn of our discoveries … But what we also love about Japan, without negating its somber and terrible face, is its repertoire of behaviors: the subtle politesse, the sense of security that results from social solidarity, a very special form of candor, as well. We don’t know how long these things can resist the infernal spirals of the contemporary world, but for now they make life here incredibly sweet and civil.

by Elizabeth Floyd Mair, a freelance writer living in Guilderland.

"So few books get better with every page," Ms. Davidar says. Then, remembering there is someone sitting across from her, she turns.

"You should read it."

from TIME

Many authors dream of getting their books onto best-seller lists, but few pull it off with the panache of French writer Muriel Barbery. Her second novel, The Elegance of the Hedgehog, has been at or near the top of France's sales charts for 102 straight weeks since its September 2006 publication. It has been translated into a half-dozen languages and is being adapted for film. In South Korea and Italy, the book has generated the same sort of enthusiasm and devotion that made it a publishing phenomenon in France. Now, with the release of an English translation on Sept. 7, Elegance is pursuing a goal that has proved devilishly elusive for modern French novelists: success in the U.S. and Britain. Barbery acknowledges the challenge. "But given what the book has done elsewhere thus far, I guess I'm willing to believe anything is possible," she says. "It has been like a dream."

Only two years ago, Barbery, 39, was a philosophy teacher in Normandy whose spare-time fiction writing had produced a single published work: the 2000 novel Une Gourmandise (A Delicacy). That tale of a world-famous food critic with deathbed yearnings for life's forgotten tastes won her a single award for culinary writing and a few encouraging reviews. Elegance, by contrast, which the weekly L'Express hailed for celebrating "the tiny pleasures of life . . . with the timeless nostalgia of a Marcel Proust," seems to have scored a direct hit on the global zeitgeist.

Central to the book's appeal is the compelling voice of its main character, Renée Michel, a 54-year-old Paris apartment-building concierge who struggles to hide her self-taught erudition and cultivation from snobby, rich tenants. She disdains their élitist notions of class and social order, but she knows the residents would be outraged at discovering what a deep grasp the hired help has of art and learning. So Renée masks her intellect behind the persona expected of her lowly station.

"I'm a widow, short, ugly, chubby; I have bunions on my feet and, on certain difficult mornings, it seems, the breath of a mammoth," Renée says by way of introduction. "But above all, I conform to the image assigned to concierges. It would never occur to anyone that I am better read than all these self-satisfied rich people."

But the novel is not Renée's alone. It also features the precocious 12-year-old Paloma, the daughter of one of the rich couples in Renée's building. A youthful idealist, she too is dismayed by the petty posturing of the gifted, privileged adults around her; so dismayed, in fact, that she intends to commit suicide by her 13th birthday. As the two characters' lives overlap, Paloma comes to discover Renée's secret gifts, and to appreciate her self-effacing elder as having "the elegance of a hedgehog: a real fortress, bristling with quills on the outside . . . deceptively sluggish, ferociously independent, yet terribly elegant."

As she brings Renée out of her shell and guides young Paloma toward realizing that not all adults sacrifice their intelligence and humanity to vanity, Barbery demonstrates her own deep love and command of art, philosophy, and literature. Indeed, Elegance can be a bit intimidating when Renée's philosophical references and brainier ruminations run thick. In the end, however, the novel wins over its fans with a life-affirming message, a generous portion of heart and Barbery's frequently wicked sense of humor.

Class-consciousness and conflict are central to Barbery's story, which some French critics have deemed a heavy-handed satire of waning French social stereotypes. That reading misses her point, Barbery says. "For me, those factors were only anecdotal in telling the story of these two solitary women, and how they arranged their lives to give full rein to their passions," says Barbery by phone from Kyoto, which she and her husband adopted as home earlier this year. "To be honest, I was just creating characters who love the things I do, and who allowed me to celebrate that through them."

Despite its triumphs elsewhere, the question now is whether a story that deconstructs French social prejudices to hail the eternal value of culture can seduce readers in the U.S. and Britain. Barbery thinks her book has enjoyed such universal success because people everywhere are worried about superficiality overtaking substance in their lives. She says her cast of "improbable characters and clashing perspectives has managed to interest an equally improbable range of readers from very different backgrounds." It would be a surprise if those who read English proved any less susceptible to this book's charms.

Muriel Barbery's bestselling novel The Elegance of the Hedgehog (forthcoming from Europa Editions in September 2008) has been selected among the 30 titles chosen between 2005 and 2008 as part ot the French Voices program.

“French Voices”, in partnership with the PEN American Center, financially supports the translation and publication of up to ten contemporary French or Francophone works per year.

A committee of independent professional experts has been brought together to select the works to be translated.

The premise is to create what will become a collection of 30 books over an initial period of three years. The French works published in the US will each receive the patronage of a major American writer, either in the form of a preface to the book, or his or her involvement in a major public event, etc.