Henriette Lazaridis has a new vision of publishing

Books

With a “Good Morning America” Buzz Pick under her belt, Henriette Lazaridis of Cambridge is co-founder of a Massachusetts-based press.

One day in March, Henriette Lazaridis looked at her phone and screamed.

“I do not believe it. When I saw the email, I shouted: ‘Wait what?!’ she said to me, laughing. “Then I had to keep it a secret for over a month.”

The Cambridge author’s latest novel, “Last Days in Plaka,” became a Buzz Pick on “Good Morning America” ​​in April. Lazaridis recorded a 49-second video for the morning show from his home in Cambridge. (“It took me about 75 takes.”)

GMA: Hats off to this selection.

The former Harvard professor delivers a subtle tale of friendship between odd couples, with just enough tension at play to keep you guessing. Set in the ancient Plaka district of Athens – home to ice cream stands and cinemas near the Acropolis – we explore the unlikely friendship between Anna, a 27-year-old Greek-American street artist who rides a motorcycle and who seeks to connect to his heritage. , and Irini, an 82-year-old widow, once well-off but now dependent on charity.

One day, their local priest suggests Anna bring figs to Irini. (Hence the book cover.) The freewheeling artist becomes fascinated by the tales of the octogenarian: Irini’s estranged child. Lost wealth. An earthquake. I won’t give away any spoilers, but as the publisher’s synopsis says: Anna makes a decision that “exposes Irini’s web of lies and forces Anna to confront the limits of her own forgiveness.”

I was hooked from the first two sentences: “It’s not his story. She stole it from the young woman who only realized at the end that it belonged to her.

There’s something about omniscient storytelling that’s just easy to fall into: a fairy tale or storybook vibe. Combined with Lazaridis’ talent for dialogue and cinematic storytelling, it keeps you turning the pages.

Born to “Greek expats,” Lazaridis grew up in Canton and Lincoln. A Boston GrubStreet instructor, she started rowing about 34 years ago. Today you might see her rowing the Charles River.

I called Lazaridis, 64, for two main reasons: “Plaka” – she has three local events coming up: May 7 in Wellesley, May 9 in Gloucester, May 16 in Shrewsbury – and Galiot Press, a new publishing press that she is co-founder. with Arlington author Anjali Mitter Duva.

Galiot opens for submissions on May 20. According to their Kickstarter: They aim to publish “books from new voices and traditionally overlooked writers”, with their first three books by fall 2025.. “The books will be available in paperback and e-book formats, and hopefully also in audio format.”

We talked about Greek street art, Mickey Mouse comics and his vision for publishing.

Boston.com: So how did the story come to you?

Lazaridis: I started it in August 2020. I was working on another novel and feeling stuck. I’m Greek-American, I go to Greece about twice a year. I normally would have been in Greece that summer, but it was the pandemic. I missed Greece a lot. I was aware of our mortality as human beings, that we had time to live all these days (in confinement.)

Both of these things concerned me. One evening, before going to bed, the first two sentences came to mind. I was perplexed because it had nothing to do with what I was working on.

The next morning, I still had the sentences there, as well as the two (protagonists). I ran with it and wrote my way into the story, which is not the way I usually work. A few weeks later, I raised my head, looked around and said, “Okay, where are we?” Where can this story go now?

Did Anna and Irini come to you when you woke up?

This old woman and this young woman. I knew the old woman was “the story thief” – that was my working title. I knew there was something to the lying or the manipulation. There they were, these two women connected by the basket of figs that a priest had asked to bring. This surprised me, because I’m not a religiously observant person at all – and in fact, most Greeks don’t go to church every Sunday.

Interestingly, Anna is also religious, being a young American.

Anna tries to connect to her parents’ Greek culture. She chose the wrong path. (laughs) If she had chosen, say, music, she could have more easily connected to something her parents called their Greece. But she chooses religion, which is a bit wrong.

So there she is, in this church which only has five other people. She’s trying really hard, desperately looking for something – I don’t think she knows what it is.

So church on Sunday – isn’t that a typical thing Greeks would do?

Not in Greece. I think in Greek-American culture this is the case. But that’s not how I grew up. My parents emigrated before I was born. They have always considered themselves expatriates rather than immigrants. They didn’t feel like Greek-Americans. So we didn’t go to church. We had our own expat community.

Why Plaka? Is that where they come from?

My father grew up on the outskirts of Plaka, but I chose it because it is a neighborhood of contradictions and layers. It’s right there, next to the old things. It is one of the oldest inhabited (areas). So there is a very old and touristy world. There’s also this movie theater on the roof where they go in the book: Ciné Paris. At the cinema, if you turn your head to the left, there is the Acropolis.

Wow.

So in this small place you have ancient history, contemporary life and all of life on the cinema screen, superimposed on each other. I wanted this layering of time, of stories that I couldn’t have had in other neighborhoods.

Interesting. And you have Anna, the artist.

She’s an artist, but she’s just mediocre. Someone asked me: Why didn’t you make her become good at this? (Laughs)

(Laughs)

But I liked that she was not will find transcendence through his art, which, frankly, is how most of us live. We do not become Michelangelo or Mary Cassatt. (laughs) We’re just making our way.

TRUE. She launches into street art. This is a big thing in Greece.

Almost every surface in Greece is covered in graffiti. At one end of the spectrum, there is clearly vandalism. On the other side, works commissioned from famous street artists. But there’s a lot in between: people who tag artistically. If you search for “street art Athens” on Google, you will see some amazing images. It’s a thing.

Your father grew up near Plaka. Did your parents ever live there?

No, they didn’t. My father lived most of his childhood in this region. He played at the foot of the Acropolis. In fact, he once fell into an old well and they had to call a policeman. My mother grew up in another city. Then they got married and had an apartment in the center of Athens.

They arrived in Boston around 1958. My father was a mechanical engineer, he came to work at what was then Thermo Electron. I was born here. We lived in Canton, then moved to Lincoln. I am an only child, we spoke Greek at home. I was two months old when they took me to Greece. In my first passport, I am this little wrinkled baby.

My mother and I returned there every summer; my father would join us for the month of August.

Greek is your mother tongue.

It is. I spoke English with the neighborhood children, but at home it was Greek first. My grandmother taught me to read Greek using Mickey Mouse comic strips. They went out in Greek every Friday. I’ll have them all summer. When I was home in Massachusetts, she sent me one every Friday. Comics were in every capital. So it took me a while to learn the lowercase letters (laughs)

(laughs) I love it. So tell me about Galliot Press.

For years, I joked and said, “When I get my publishing company, I’ll do things differently.” » I said this while looking at some inefficiencies. I have been published by both an independent press and one of the big five. I’ve seen it from both sides of the spectrum and had really good experiences, overall, but I was able to see things that I thought I could do better. I would joke about it. One day my friend Anjali said to me, “You know, if you are serious about this publishing house, I will do it with you. »

At first, they said we would wait until I was 70 years old. Then, a few years ago, we asked ourselves: “Why are we waiting? So over the past two years, we’ve meticulously planned, researched, and talked to all kinds of focus groups – with readers, writers, agents, publishers, marketers, booksellers – to make sure we understand the whole business as it exists. And we found something that we think is better.

In what way?

We rely on printing on demand rather than on print runs. You don’t take as many financial risks, so you can take artistic risks. You can choose more books that don’t fit easily into a category. There are a lot of good things that don’t reach readers.

Like what?

Books that are perhaps a mix of genres, that sometimes publishers say they don’t know how to sell.

What are the other problems?

Here’s one: Agents and editors work very hard and are often overwhelmed. An agent may receive between 100 and 400 query letters per week. It is not possible to read everything.

We do two things differently with our presentation process. Firstly, we have a reservation system, on a first come, first served basis, and opening hours vary by time zone. You will reserve a week like you would reserve a meal in a restaurant. When you send us your request before Tuesday of the first week, you will have a response by Friday. When our doors are open, they are open to everyone equally, whether you have an agent or not.

Why the name Galiot?

We spent so much time find something.

(Laughs)

A galiote is a French boat that uses both sails and oars. So we liked this combination. It is agile, it can adapt to climate changes. It uplifts people and brings them together. I am also a rower and Anjali grew up in France. We both have a multicultural background. Her mother is American, her father is Indian, she grew up in France until she came here for college.

I last told you about “Terra Nova”, the exploration of Antarctica in 1910. Were you writing this when “Plaka” came to mind?

No, actually, I was writing another book. A novel about a daughter of a missing mother, a physicist in 1972.

I love that you jump into completely different worlds.

I know. (laughs) I can’t control where my brain goes.