Last Saturday evening, the 12th of October, I had the privilege of attending a reading by Andre Aciman, Italian-American writer of the esteemed and widely popular novel Call me by your name, as he discussed his thoughts on life, love and writing. Aciman’s reflections, drawn from his new memoir My Roman Year, resonated deeply with me, particularly as I consider how personal stories shape the books we publish and consume. 

 As a publishing student, attending this event was both inspiring and thought provoking. Joined by two new friends from the MSc Publishing course, held in the stunning surroundings of St. Cuthbert’s cathedral, the event felt like more than just an author reading—it was an intimate exploration of how writing helps us navigate identity, love, and the complexities of life.  

The Power of Vulnerability in Writing 

One of Aciman’s most striking observations was about vulnerability in relationships and its parallel in writing. When asked “What does love mean to you?” he said, “If you cannot be unashamed in front of somebody, you cannot be intimate with them. I don’t think ‘getting along’ is love.” This resonated not just in a personal sense, but also in how writers expose themselves to readers. In the publishing industry, we are often caught in the tension between chasing the next bestseller over taking the risk on experimental quality literature, but Aciman’s sentiments reminded me that the most memorable stories are often those that make us uncomfortable, that challenge us to face parts of ourselves we might prefer to hide. 

For students and aspiring publishers, this is crucial. When we look at manuscripts, we’re not just assessing technical skill or marketability; we’re evaluating how effectively the author has laid bare their vulnerabilities. Aciman’s talk reinforced the importance of encouraging authors to embrace this honesty, as it’s what often drives a connection between book and reader. 

Writing as Discovery 

One of the key takeaways from Aciman’s talk was his perspective on writing as a process of self-discovery. He said, “You do not know what you are thinking because you haven’t found the words for it, not the other way around.” This idea of writing as a way to understand rather than express pre-formed thoughts was eye-opening for me, especially as I consider my own writing and future editorial work. 

This has broader implications for the publishing industry. When working with authors, we should allow space for the unknown, for ideas that are still forming. Aciman’s comment serves as a reminder that creativity isn’t always about certainty; it’s often about exploring the ambiguities of life. “I want to understand what life is for me – what it has given me, what it has taken away and I can only do that by writing “that which has not happened”. Encouraging this in our authors could lead to more innovative, reflective works that resonate deeply with readers. 

Finding the Lyrical in the Everyday 

Aciman’s writing style, which he described as “between dirty and lyrical,” is a perfect reflection of how he captures both the mundane and the profound in his work. This balance between the rawness of everyday life and the beauty of language is a hallmark of Aciman’s writing and a key reason the author is so widely praised. As Aciman shared, the challenge in writing—and in publishing—is to find the human in everything, to avoid jargon and overly complex, confusing language. As a distinguished professor of comparative literature at the City University of New York, he emphasised that even classics like Wuthering Heights should not require a graduate degree to decipher, reminding us that accessibility is key in storytelling. 

For those of us in Publishing, this is a valuable lesson. The works we publish should not only be well-crafted but should also speak to readers on a fundamental human level. Aciman’s ability to blend lyricism with relatability is something all publishers should strive to recognise in the manuscripts they select. 

Listening to André Aciman reflect on his life, writing, and the art of storytelling was an unforgettable experience. His thoughts on vulnerability, identity, and writing as discovery have left a lasting impression, not just on me but on how I view the publishing process. As students and future publishers, we have the responsibility to champion stories that not only entertain but also push boundaries and reveal deeper truths about the human experience. 

Walking home with my signed copy of Aciman’s Find Me, the sequel to Call me by your name, I was left with a lot to ponder on. Attending this talk was more than just a literary event—it was a reminder of why we’re in this field. It’s about finding those stories that matter, that resonate, and that ultimately help us—and the readers—better understand ourselves.