{"id":16349,"date":"2024-07-24T15:23:33","date_gmt":"2024-07-24T15:23:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/penbelarus.org\/?p=16349"},"modified":"2025-07-17T13:18:12","modified_gmt":"2025-07-17T13:18:12","slug":"andrej-yanushkevich-tak-nashy-litaratary-pishucz-syonnya-mala-ale-ne-spyashajczesya-z-prysudam","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/penbelarus.org\/en\/2024\/07\/24\/andrej-yanushkevich-tak-nashy-litaratary-pishucz-syonnya-mala-ale-ne-spyashajczesya-z-prysudam.html","title":{"rendered":"Andrej Janushkevich: yes, our writers are producing little today \u2014 but don\u2019t rush to judgment!"},"content":{"rendered":"

A deep conversation with publisher Andrej Janushkevich on the price of literary success, what makes a book truly good, the rise of literary stars and hits, and how writers are (or aren\u2019t) motivated by money and public recognition.<\/em><\/p>\n

\n

\u201cI became an \u2018adventurer\u2019 not out of luxury \u2014 I simply had no other choice!\u201d<\/h3>\n

At one point, you took the risk of publishing a writer you knew almost nothing about \u2014 not even their real name, just a pseudonym.<\/p>\n

Yes \u2014 Kamila Tsien\u2019. What intrigued me most was that it was a detective novel \u2014 a genre that\u2019s sorely lacking in Belarusian literature. And the text itself was engaging and distinctive. I reached out to this unknown author by email, we made an agreement, and I took the risk. Readers appreciated it. A win for all three sides.<\/p>\n

\n

That really worked out well. Have there been many such \u201cadventurous\u201d cases?<\/h3>\n

This so-called \u201cadventure\u201d wasn\u2019t driven by comfort \u2014 far from it. Here\u2019s the paradox: officially, we have hundreds of prose writers, poets, and playwrights. And yet… I call out into the void: Where have you all gone? Where are your new works?!<\/em> I appeal on social media: Write, send us your manuscripts! If you’re still in Belarus, we\u2019ll publish you under a pseudonym\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

\n

And how do they respond?<\/h3>\n

It gets almost absurd: some writers are afraid to submit their manuscripts \u2014 they\u2019re scared of rejection, imagine that! But hey, if you\u2019re afraid of wolves, don\u2019t go into the forest!<\/p>\n

Honestly, this initiative of mine \u2014 knocking on authors\u2019 doors asking \u201cHave you written anything?\u201d \u2014 that\u2019s not how it should be. The offer, especially a persistent one, should come from the writer.<\/p>\n

\n

Why are Belarusian writers producing so little?<\/h3>\n

It\u2019s complicated, and we shouldn\u2019t be too quick to hand down verdicts \u2014 not from publishers, nor from readers. We shouldn\u2019t blame writers for creative laziness or fear without understanding the context.<\/p>\n

We must remember: books are rarely written \u201cjust because.\u201d Most writers hope for some form of recognition or success \u2014 because that might bring direct dividends in the form of royalties, media attention, or social prestige.<\/p>\n

In other words, media visibility and financial incentives do<\/em> matter for most authors. But in the Belarusian literary and publishing world, these factors are practically nonexistent! As a result, a writer doesn\u2019t want to work \u201cinto the void.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\u201cOnly those who feel truly called to write \u2014 who can\u2019t not write<\/em> \u2014 keep creating tirelessly.\u201d<\/h3>\n

That\u2019s what I see, for example, in Alhierd Bacharevi\u010d and Zaraslava Kaminskaya.<\/p>\n

\n

A star debut: Martynovich soared, Horvat faded<\/h3>\n

Let me say something controversial. We have an excellent prize to encourage young writers \u2014 the Debut Award<\/em>. A sort of literary launchpad. But from what I\u2019ve observed over the past 10 years, the emergence and development of new literary voices hasn\u2019t become a consistent phenomenon.<\/p>\n

You\u2019re sure? That\u2019s debatable!<\/p>\n

I\u2019ll clarify: for example, Viktar Martynovich received this award early in his literary career.<\/p>\n

And what about Andrej Horvat?<\/p>\n

Well\u2026 after \u201cRadziwa \u2018Pru\u016ddok\u2019,\u201d<\/em> he released one more book \u2014 and that was it. He seems like someone who stumbled into writing by chance. Although I\u2019d be happy to be wrong.<\/p>\n

\n

So have you lost faith in emerging talent?<\/h3>\n

Not at all. I see great potential in someone like Zaraslava Kaminskaya. She loves to write, has already published three books \u2014 all solid, and you can clearly see her growth.<\/p>\n

But take another example: Uladzimir Sadouski. Back in 2017, he made a splash with \u201c1813\u201d<\/em> \u2014 the first Belarusian zombie horror novel. And then silence. Life circumstances didn\u2019t allow him to continue writing.<\/p>\n

Let me offer a comparison. In Ukraine, there\u2019s a writer named Andriy Kokotiukha. He\u2019s in his fifties now and has published nearly a hundred books! He writes nonfiction, retro detective stories, romance novels, and children\u2019s books \u2014 and people say they\u2019re quite good. That\u2019s an example of literary productivity in an environment where creative work matters<\/em> \u2014 where it brings both recognition and financial stability.<\/p>\n

As a counterpoint: during roughly the same period, our own journalist and author Alyaksandr Tamkovich published around 30 documentary books. Not bad either!<\/p>\n

\n

But few people heard about them!<\/h3>\n

I wouldn\u2019t say that. The difference is, Tamkovich didn\u2019t gain much in terms of acclaim or income \u2014 as you said\u2026<\/p>\n

Exactly! That points to another issue: sometimes we publish things solely \u201cfor the archive.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n

Bestsellers and literary hits \u2014 can we predict them?<\/h3>\n

It\u2019s a complex topic \u2014 care to explain?<\/p>\n

Do you remember those famous lines by Maksim Bahdanovi\u010d about the joy of having a book printed by Martsin Kuchta<\/em>? Have you ever considered how ambiguous that line is? To me, it speaks purely to the emotional value of publication \u2014 the fact<\/em> that your work exists in print.<\/p>\n

Sometimes I even tell authors: for the sake of economy, why don\u2019t we print just two copies \u2014 one for the National Book Chamber (so your name enters the bibliographic record of Belarusian literature), and one for your own bookshelf. You can show it to guests, kids, friends \u2014 be proud of it\u2026<\/p>\n

That\u2019s a simplified reading of Bahdanovi\u010d.<\/p>\n

It fits the topic of vanity publishing. But there\u2019s also a deeper meaning: you hope, you expect, you believe your work will reach a wide audience \u2014 that it will become an anticipated cultural event!<\/p>\n

I\u2019m also against writing only for some narrowly defined \u201cinner circle.\u201d<\/p>\n

What publisher doesn\u2019t<\/em> dream of a breakthrough hit?<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat I really mean is this: we must get rid of the illusion that every book you write will be a bestseller.\u201d<\/h3>\n

In our context, aiming for such heights of recognition is only realistic if you have a strong, established author brand. Like Alhierd Bacharevi\u010d, for example. But he\u2019s earned it \u2014 through talent and years of tireless work.<\/p>\n

Or take our recent release \u2014 \u201cThe Shining\u201d<\/em> by Stephen King. His second novel, published in 1977, became a global literary legend. We released it as a collector\u2019s edition and invested heavily in the cover and design \u2014 big thanks to Nastassia Pazniak (and another designer whose name we\u2019ll keep anonymous for now). This was Nastassia\u2019s second design for Janushkevich<\/em>, after her work on \u201cThe Lord of the Rings.\u201d<\/em> I also consider the translation by Nasta Karnatskaya excellent \u2014 and by the way, it was her debut.<\/p>\n

\n

King, of course, ended his cooperation with Russian publishers, right?<\/h3>\n

The red light is on for his new works, but existing contracts for older titles remain valid for the agreed term. Right now, we\u2019re aiming to publish something new by him. If we had subsidies or external funding, we wouldn\u2019t hesitate! Still, I have to say \u2014 even a classic like King doesn\u2019t guarantee that every new book will be a hit. And we can\u2019t afford to publish him \u201cjust because it\u2019s King.\u201d Any misstep in our situation comes at a painful cost.<\/p>\n

Russian and Ukrainian publishers release everything<\/em> by King, so their audiences expect and notice each new title automatically. Unfortunately, the situation for Belarusians is different.<\/p>\n

\n

So what titles do<\/em> top the charts in Belarus?<\/h3>\n

One consistent success is \u201cWhat Are You Looking For, Wolf?\u201d<\/em> by Eva Vezhnavets. It\u2019s a phenomenon \u2014 three years of strong, steady reader demand!<\/p>\n

\n

Could her media presence be one of the reasons? Even if most of her interviews aren\u2019t about literature, her name still circulates \u2014 and her bestseller is always mentioned in passing. So we return to that eternal question of promotion<\/em>, don\u2019t we?<\/h3>\n

From what I\u2019ve seen, she became a media personality only in the past year and a half. But the book was published in 2020.<\/p>\n

No, the main reason for the book\u2019s popularity is the theme \u2014 it resonated deeply with a wide audience. And of course, the prose itself is of high quality. Let me remind you: the novel won the highest literary award in Belarus \u2014 the Giedroyc Prize. And that win came with full agreement from both the jury and the public. That kind of alignment is rare in any creative competition \u2014 national or international.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Translations, peer buzz, and the true signal of quality<\/h3>\n

An objective marker of a book\u2019s quality is when it gets translated into several European languages. Yes, this depends in part on the effort and activism of Eva Vezhnavets\u2019s publishers \u2014 but let\u2019s be honest, Western publishers won\u2019t invest in a work that lacks literary value or potential. Media presence certainly helps, but in our conditions, the best advertising is still good old word of mouth. Someone hears something somewhere \u2014 and suddenly people are sharing impressions across social media\u2026<\/p>\n

\n

Popularity: unpredictable as a plot twist<\/h3>\n

So you’re saying the path to fame and public recognition is anything but straightforward?<\/p>\n

Exactly. Even with all my experience, the success of any given new release \u2014 not even a bestseller, just a notable title \u2014 remains a mystery. It\u2019s like the suspense of a well-crafted plot. Once a book starts gaining traction, it spreads like ripples in water: each new circle wider than the last, triggering the next.<\/p>\n

\n

Can you name a recent title from Janushkevich<\/em> that caused such ripples?<\/h3>\n

The Time of Weeds<\/em> (\u010cas pustazel\u02b9lia<\/em>) by Hanna Yankuta.<\/p>\n

\n

Do you also experience the opposite \u2014 books with prominent authors, strong media coverage, and solid promo campaigns that simply don\u2019t move?<\/h3>\n

Absolutely. Every book I publish is good \u2014 I can guarantee that. But some fly, and others just don\u2019t take off.<\/p>\n

And it hurts \u2014 not just the author, but the publisher too. It\u2019s deeply frustrating when a great work gets undeservedly overlooked.<\/p>\n

Still, here\u2019s an important clarification: not every book is intended for a wide audience. And unfortunately, you can\u2019t know just how wide that audience is until you try.<\/p>\n

\n

Have you had misjudged expectations?<\/h3>\n

I have a background in history, so I understand nonfiction quite well. I was certain that Sliunkou<\/em> by Dzianis Martinovich would be a huge success. But it didn\u2019t catch on as expected \u2014 though a niche group of readers was absolutely thrilled.<\/p>\n

Another example: we published the outstanding and talented novel Mesopotamia<\/em> by renowned Ukrainian author Serhiy Zhadan. But we didn\u2019t fully consider certain factors \u2014 maybe the closeness of our languages, which allowed many to read the original, or again, the narrowness of the target audience. Financially, it was a painful failure.<\/p>\n

\n

What did you learn from that?<\/h3>\n

A seemingly obvious thing: you have to clearly<\/em> understand who the audience is. And your promo strategy must be built around that understanding. A simple slogan like \u201cBuy Zhadan\u2019s book!\u201d probably won\u2019t even reach his core fans. You need to explain<\/em> to readers why this particular book matters \u2014 what makes it original and worth reading.<\/p>\n

And yet I\u2019ll contradict myself: even with a well-planned campaign, it\u2019s entirely possible that I<\/em>, the publisher, am the one who\u2019s mistaken \u2014 that it\u2019s me<\/em> who believes the book suits the moment, while readers decide otherwise. They might say: \u201cYes, it\u2019s destined to be a classic \u2014 but not now. Maybe in a few decades\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\n

We can\u2019t read Karatkevich or Kupala and Kolas forever. And yet\u2026<\/h3>\n

Time really does make its own unexpected corrections.<\/p>\n

\n

You worked for nearly nine years with a Russian-speaking readership, for whom Belarusian books were often perceived as something exotic \u2014 a sign of originality or even elitism. Would you say that perception has now shifted? That owning a Belarusian book abroad today is more a sign of patriotism \u2014 sincere patriotism?<\/h3>\n

Yes, I\u2019d say that\u2019s a fair observation. It used to be a kind of cultural curiosity: \u201cOh, you have a Belarusian book? That\u2019s niche!\u201d<\/em> Now, for many readers \u2014 especially those in exile or part of the diaspora \u2014 buying and reading a Belarusian-language book has become an act of commitment. A statement. An expression of belonging. And that\u2019s a deeply honest motivation \u2014 perhaps the most honest kind of reader a book can have.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not about patriotism \u2014 a book requires silence, privacy, and something profoundly personal\u201d<\/h3>\n

I don\u2019t think it\u2019s about patriotism per se. A book demands stillness and privacy. I\u2019m not a fan of the overly simplistic logic: I love my country \u2014 therefore, I must read in Belarusian.<\/em> What I do see is that, especially since the war in Ukraine began, more and more thoughtful Belarusians are reflecting on their identity \u2014 on their desire not to be associated with Russia, even in a \u201cBelarusian version.\u201d<\/p>\n

If you want to feel Belarusian, you must consume your own<\/em> culture. That\u2019s the first point.<\/p>\n

The second: you need a quality, meaningful cultural product to return to \u2014 something you\u2019ll seek out with intention and, sometimes, unexpectedly. To put it bluntly: if someone decides to buy Tolkien and can\u2019t find it in Belarusian, they\u2019ll read it in the next-closest available language \u2014 which in our case is usually Russian.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m convinced: if you can\u2019t find engaging books in Belarusian, you won\u2019t suddenly switch to reading Kupala and Kolas just out of principle. That would be absurd. Once again: we can\u2019t spend our whole lives rereading Karatkevich. And the fact that he remains the most popular \u201ccontemporary\u201d author in polls and rankings \u2014 even though he died in 1984 \u2014 is, frankly, more a reason for concern than for pride.<\/p>\n

\n

So you wouldn\u2019t describe the current interest in Belarusian literature as purely patriotic?<\/h3>\n

No, I\u2019d say something else is at play. Right now, the key challenge is meeting people\u2019s cultural needs. It\u2019s like why we go to hypermarkets \u2014 there are endless options for whatever we feel like buying at the moment. We want choice, variety, precision. The same is true for books: the more selection, the better.<\/p>\n

This applies to broader cultural consumption, too.<\/p>\n

\n

Are readers becoming more selective?<\/h3>\n

Absolutely. People won\u2019t read Belarusian books indiscriminately just because they\u2019re printed in Belarusian. What they seek now is something personal<\/em> \u2014 something that feels like theirs<\/em> for many different reasons, in this specific moment. And preferably in their native language. Because the times are finally right for it.<\/p>\n

\n

Compared to our neighbors \u2014 are we falling behind?<\/h3>\n

Unfortunately, yes. Take Lithuania. They have no problem<\/em> accessing either the classics or the latest world literature \u2014 literally all the major European and American titles are available in Lithuanian.<\/p>\n

And how many books by local authors?<\/p>\n

More than Belarusians ever had during their best publishing years.<\/p>\n

Ukraine is another success story.<\/p>\n

\n

Has the war not slowed that down?<\/h3>\n

On the contrary, the last two years have brought a real boom. New bookstores and publishers are opening. Book sales have grown several times over.<\/p>\n

\n

And Russian books?<\/h3>\n

They\u2019ve vanished from Ukraine. That\u2019s it \u2014 done. Even though in the past, there were lots of quasi-legal operations: Moscow companies setting up branches in Kyiv or Odesa, printing Russian-language books by Russian authors and distributing them across the country. But now \u2014 it\u2019s the era of Ukrainian and international writers.<\/p>\n

\n

So the writer-reader bond is not only possible \u2014 it\u2019s real?<\/h3>\n

It is. And it\u2019s growing stronger.<\/p>\n

\n

From a business perspective \u2014 what are you hearing now? What\u2019s the current \u201ctick\u201d?<\/h3>\n

One signal is a cooling of interest in children\u2019s literature, which used to be one of our strongholds. For instance, we republished two Cat Shprots<\/em> books by Hanna Yankuta \u2014 and a third is on the way. Valer Hapeyeu\u2019s fantasy series Volniary<\/em> for teens and adults has become quite popular. There\u2019s also a new, still largely undiscovered book for younger readers: The Sea in the City<\/em> by Belarusian author Elha Papova. But the wave of excitement is waning\u2026<\/p>\n

\n

What\u2019s causing this negative trend?<\/h3>\n

Maybe it\u2019s because for emigrant parents, the top priority now is helping their kids integrate into a new school and social environment. Without mastering the local language, they\u2019ll be outsiders. So they\u2019re more likely to buy a Polish book \u2014 because at this moment, they don\u2019t see a practical purpose in a Belarusian one.<\/p>\n

\n

But keeping a connection to one\u2019s homeland?<\/h3>\n

Of course, it matters deeply. But that\u2019s more of an inner, personal thing. Meanwhile, the external world \u2014 the new context of exile \u2014 is starting to dominate. Right now (hopefully only temporarily), the priority has shifted toward adaptation and socialization.<\/p>\n

\n

Still, has overall interest in Belarusian books declined?<\/h3>\n

Quite the opposite \u2014 it\u2019s encouraging. For the past year and a half, national authors consistently hold top spots in our sales rankings. When we were just starting back home in Belarus, that wasn\u2019t the case \u2014 those lists were always led by translated bestsellers.<\/p>\n

Now you\u2019ll find Alhierd Bacharevi\u010d standing shoulder to shoulder with the likes of M\u00e1rquez, Hemingway, and Remarque. The same goes for Eva Vezhnavets, Kamila Tsien\u02b9, and Hanna Yankuta.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s why we\u2019re so eager for more original Belarusian literature \u2014 because people have a very specific, very real need for it.<\/p>\n\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\n

\u201cNo one else will tell our story in literature \u2014 except us.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

Let\u2019s take, for example, Polish or German literature. In essence, they largely exist within their own national space. These countries have their own literary megastars \u2014 and yet no one knows them in France, the UK, or the US. They\u2019re mostly writing for internal consumption. Now and then, someone breaks into the global arena \u2014 like recent Nobel laureate Olga Tokarczuk.<\/p>\n

But my focus is on something else: it turns out you can<\/em> thrive within your own cultural boundaries.<\/strong> You can become a star at home, write bestsellers simply because you\u2019re grounded in your own soil.<\/p>\n

Detective novels written from within the Polish context. Domestic dramas based on national realities. Not to mention historical or documentary literature. The result? An ordinary person can look into such a book like a mirror \u2014 and see themselves reflected there.<\/em><\/p>\n

That\u2019s not going to happen when you read French, English, or American novels. Those authors tell stories about themselves, their countries, their contexts.<\/p>\n

\n

So Belarusian writers have that chance too?<\/h3>\n

Yes. But it has to be done well. If you write about yourself in a compelling, truthful way \u2014 then<\/em> your work will resonate. Then the writer-reader connection<\/em> becomes complete and mutual. And that\u2019s a beautiful thing.<\/p>\n

Unfortunately, that\u2019s often exactly what\u2019s missing. In the past two years, we\u2019ve had \u2014 at best \u2014 five such books. And other publishing houses aren\u2019t seeing better results either.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

A deep conversation with publisher Andrej Janushkevich on the price of literary success, what makes a book truly good, the rise of literary stars and hits, and how writers are (or aren\u2019t) motivated by money and public recognition. \u201cI became an \u2018adventurer\u2019 not out of luxury \u2014 I simply had no other choice!\u201d At one<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":64,"featured_media":16406,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4092],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-16349","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-news-friends"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/penbelarus.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16349","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/penbelarus.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/penbelarus.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/penbelarus.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/64"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/penbelarus.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=16349"}],"version-history":[{"count":15,"href":"https:\/\/penbelarus.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16349\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":19864,"href":"https:\/\/penbelarus.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16349\/revisions\/19864"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/penbelarus.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/16406"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/penbelarus.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=16349"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/penbelarus.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=16349"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/penbelarus.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=16349"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}