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By bestselling author David Davidar, Ithaca is a thrilling account of international publishing.
In the early years of the 21st Century, sweeping change is taking place in the publishing industry. Ill-equipped to handle the transformation of their world, a number of publishing houses struggle to survive — one of these is Litmus, an independent firm in the UK. The onus of ensuring that the company remains viable falls upon its publisher, Zachariah Thomas, who also edits its most successful author, Massimo Seppi. Seppi's quartet of novels, featuring angels and archangels, has sold millions of copies worldwide.
Unfortunately for Zach and for Litmus, Seppi dies unexpectedly. Without its star writer, Litmus's chances of surviving the economic downturn are slim, and when a giant corporation intent on taking it over begins to move in for the kill, it seems impossible that Litmus will remain independent. To keep his company intact, and to give it room to regroup and chart out a strategy for the future, Zach must, among other things, try and mine the Seppi legacy for one last gem. He travels around the globe, from London to the new Litmus subsidiary in Delhi, from negotiating meetings in Toronto to the halls of the renowned Frankfurt Book Fair, from a sales extravaganza in New York City to the streets of Sydney, and more, in his quest to stave off disaster.
By turns compelling and thought-provoking, this eagerly anticipated new novel by one of the industry's foremost figures masterfully depicts the exhilarating and surprisingly turbulent world of book publishing. DAVID DAVIDAR is the author of The House of Blue Mangoes, which was a New York Times Notable Book, and The Solitude of Emperors, which was a finalist for a regional Commonwealth Writers Prize. It is the most dramatic flight path in the world. Four tremendous mountains, feet planted in snowfields, peaks ventilating the sky: Everest, imperious and distinctive, a plume of snow jetting from its crown; Makalu, saw-toothed and threatening even when the sun is shining; Lhotse, a thunderclap of a mountain, its bulk dwarfing its neighbours; and finally the ramparts of Kanchenjunga, stretching as far as the eye can see. The great peaks seem to be just inches from the windows of the small plane crawling across the face of the eastern Himalaya. "Killers," Zachariah Thomas says to his wife, Julia, "every one of them." His eyes are riveted on the mountains below. "Hundreds have died on their slopes and yet the climbers keep coming. Oh, I'm not being macabre, just telling it like it is. Wonder if any of them have scored a planeload of passengers yet? You would think that any self-respecting death zone peak would be pretty pissed if it hadn't knocked an Airbus out of the sky."
Julia does not reply, possibly because she is not on the plane. She has been gone eighteen months and it was then that Zach's troubles started. Hammer blows, one after the other, pounding his life into something resembling a coffin. All that needs to happen now is for the lid to slam shut. Perhaps these mountains will do it for him.
As if in response to that thought, the plane encounters a patch of turbulence, shivers in its skin. The pilot's voice crackles over the speakers, reminding passengers to fasten their seatbelts and stay calm. The man next to him — bearded, overweight, and smelly — starts to pray loudly in French, grasping the crucifix around his neck. Zach glances at him irritably, what better way to go than ramming into a milehigh wall of ice, stone and flying snow at several hundred miles an hour? He puts up with his neighbour's panic for a minute or two, then leans across and whispers into his ear.
"Relax, mon ami, God's mighty host will not let this plane fall, I should know, I am quite knowledgeable about angels." The Frenchman looks at him as if he is mad but he isn't joking — well not entirely, he does know a bit more about
In the early years of the 21st Century, sweeping change is taking place in the publishing industry. Ill-equipped to handle the transformation of their world, a number of publishing houses struggle to survive — one of these is Litmus, an independent firm in the UK. The onus of ensuring that the company remains viable falls upon its publisher, Zachariah Thomas, who also edits its most successful author, Massimo Seppi. Seppi's quartet of novels, featuring angels and archangels, has sold millions of copies worldwide.
Unfortunately for Zach and for Litmus, Seppi dies unexpectedly. Without its star writer, Litmus's chances of surviving the economic downturn are slim, and when a giant corporation intent on taking it over begins to move in for the kill, it seems impossible that Litmus will remain independent. To keep his company intact, and to give it room to regroup and chart out a strategy for the future, Zach must, among other things, try and mine the Seppi legacy for one last gem. He travels around the globe, from London to the new Litmus subsidiary in Delhi, from negotiating meetings in Toronto to the halls of the renowned Frankfurt Book Fair, from a sales extravaganza in New York City to the streets of Sydney, and more, in his quest to stave off disaster.
By turns compelling and thought-provoking, this eagerly anticipated new novel by one of the industry's foremost figures masterfully depicts the exhilarating and surprisingly turbulent world of book publishing. DAVID DAVIDAR is the author of The House of Blue Mangoes, which was a New York Times Notable Book, and The Solitude of Emperors, which was a finalist for a regional Commonwealth Writers Prize. It is the most dramatic flight path in the world. Four tremendous mountains, feet planted in snowfields, peaks ventilating the sky: Everest, imperious and distinctive, a plume of snow jetting from its crown; Makalu, saw-toothed and threatening even when the sun is shining; Lhotse, a thunderclap of a mountain, its bulk dwarfing its neighbours; and finally the ramparts of Kanchenjunga, stretching as far as the eye can see. The great peaks seem to be just inches from the windows of the small plane crawling across the face of the eastern Himalaya. "Killers," Zachariah Thomas says to his wife, Julia, "every one of them." His eyes are riveted on the mountains below. "Hundreds have died on their slopes and yet the climbers keep coming. Oh, I'm not being macabre, just telling it like it is. Wonder if any of them have scored a planeload of passengers yet? You would think that any self-respecting death zone peak would be pretty pissed if it hadn't knocked an Airbus out of the sky."
Julia does not reply, possibly because she is not on the plane. She has been gone eighteen months and it was then that Zach's troubles started. Hammer blows, one after the other, pounding his life into something resembling a coffin. All that needs to happen now is for the lid to slam shut. Perhaps these mountains will do it for him.
As if in response to that thought, the plane encounters a patch of turbulence, shivers in its skin. The pilot's voice crackles over the speakers, reminding passengers to fasten their seatbelts and stay calm. The man next to him — bearded, overweight, and smelly — starts to pray loudly in French, grasping the crucifix around his neck. Zach glances at him irritably, what better way to go than ramming into a milehigh wall of ice, stone and flying snow at several hundred miles an hour? He puts up with his neighbour's panic for a minute or two, then leans across and whispers into his ear.
"Relax, mon ami, God's mighty host will not let this plane fall, I should know, I am quite knowledgeable about angels." The Frenchman looks at him as if he is mad but he isn't joking — well not entirely, he does know a bit more about