I talked about Spanish books today with a friend who works as a scout. We discussed why one particular Spanish novel was being so successful in Holland when I had decided it might be difficult to publish it in the UK. She laughed. ‘Everything foreign is difficult to publish in the UK.’ True. But aside from the endlessly discussed, and frankly now quite tired, subject of British closed-mindedness when it comes to translations, it is nevertheless the case that certain themes appeal to some nations more than to others. My first job in publishing was for a literary scout. For those who don’t know what a scout is, this New York Observer article is a useful introduction: http://bit.ly/bccdM7. But, briefly, a scout works for a selection of publishers in different countries around the world, tipping them off about which books are hot properties so they can leap in and nab the rights. I loved scouting. It was fascinating to see why a particular British book might appeal to the Italians but not to the Swedes, to the Dutch but not the Spanish. Some books are far more successful in foreign territories than they are in their home markets. A novel set in, let’s say, Barcelona might paint a portrait of that city that is informative and excitingly fresh for foreign readers but banal for those who live there for example.

British publishers eager to take on books from the rest of the world would be foolish to ignore the fact that some subjects are simply more difficult for Anglo-Saxon readers to empathise with. A few years ago I published a novel by the Italian writer Margaret Mazzantini called, in English, Don’t Move. About a successful surgeon  who meets by chance a working-class woman in a shabby suburb of Rome and falls obsessively in love with her, despite being happy in his marriage, Don’t Move had been a huge bestseller in Italy and was made into a film starring Penelope Cruz. I loved its portrait of high and low Roman society, but the highly charged emotional plot and its Catholic symbolism were perhaps too much for the understated English, and the film never got major distribution in the UK despite its star.

The challenge for the editors at Harvill Secker is to acquire a combination of foreign books that represent a) the truly great writers from a particular culture, b) the great writers of the future and c) books that might not be by major writers by have something special about them that will make lots of people buy them. Between the cracks in these three categories fall hundreds of books that tell fascinating, well-written stories. If the editors at Harvill Secker were to commission readers reports on all the interesting stories that crossed our desks, we’d go bankrupt. And yet we have to be so careful not to miss things. The line is fine between a good story and a great one, and we mustn’t be too quick to dismiss things. That is why we need to be as informed as possible about what is being written in other countries.

Have you spotted the ‘Armchair Traveller’ feature on our International Writing page? The next country we’re visiting in our armchair is Italy. What, in your opinion, are the best Italian books, published in English or yet to be discovered by English readers? If this blog has gathered any readers (and in my sadder moments I suspect I’m writing into the void), do please add a comment to this blog and tell us the Italian books you love and why. It would also be fun to start compiling a list of authors who are more successful in other countries than they are in their own, so give me your thoughts …