Barry Cunningham, an interview

 By Sam Tabahriti for Reuters

Barry Cunningham didn't grow up surrounded by books — but he grew up hugging them. A sickly child in post-war London, he found solace in stories, escaping into the worlds of Becky Sharp from "Vanity Fair" and Long John Silver from "Treasure Island." That early love of reading — visceral, imaginative, and deeply personal — would go on to shape his career in publishing.

Though best known as the original publisher of "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone," Cunningham's influence stretches far beyond Hogwarts. Since founding Chicken House in 2000, he has championed countless stories that treat children as discerning readers with rich emotional lives.

Speaking with Reuters from his office in western England, Cunningham, now age 72, reflects on what drew him to children's books, the legacy of Harry Potter, and what’s next for him as he prepares for retirement at the end of the year.

The following conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

What books shaped you as a child?

When I was in school, I won a prize for effort. That's basically the award they give to the kid who doesn't win anything else but works really hard. As a prize for effort, I got a book token.

I went to the shop and picked out a book that caught my eye, “The Hobbit.” I absolutely adored it. Like many children, I must have read it 25 times. I loved it because it was a fantasy story, wildly imaginative, and also funny. Humour is such an important part of children's books. Especially in this country, we use humour to deepen emotion. That's one of the reasons I bought “Harry Potter,” too.

Can you tell me what you remember about the moment you first read Harry Potter? How did it change things for you?

We had just started Bloomsbury Children's Books in 1994 and Nigel Newton, the head of the publishing house, took a huge risk putting me in charge. I had never edited a children's book before, though I'd marketed plenty. So when the manuscript for "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone" landed on my desk, it wasn't pristine. It had clearly been passed around. I wasn't the first to see it, and I had no idea I was J.K. Rowling’s last chance.

I read it that night. The beginning reminded me a bit of Roald Dahl, but what really struck me was the strength of the friendships and Harry's need to stand up for himself and for others. That was powerful. The manuscript was long, the title was strange, but I didn't hesitate. I made an offer the next day: just over 2,000 pounds ($3,000 in 1994) — probably the best money anyone's ever spent in publishing.

It didn't explode overnight though — it grew slowly, through word of mouth, which is how most good children's books find their wings. I remember visiting my daughter's school not long after publication. One of the older girls was holding a first edition. I asked her what she thought, and she hugged the book and said, "I love this." That moment stayed with me.

Harry Potter changed my life profoundly. It gave me the freedom to start Chicken House, a publishing house devoted entirely to children's books. Every publisher dreams of publishing a book that changes children's lives forever. I was lucky enough to do that — and I'm still humbled by it.

You've announced that you’re retiring on December 31. What's next for you?

Ironically, I am looking forward to reading more widely. I have just spent years reading books, and now I'm looking forward to reading — terrible, isn't it? I am looking forward to reading more adult books though, and books that have nothing to do with work. I love the stimulation reading brings.

I also hope to still work with young writers. And I want to spend more time with my family, who haven't seen much of me.

What do you think makes a good publisher, and what differences have you noticed since you started?

I don't think it's my job to tell authors what to write, but I do think it's my job to tell them what's not working. My form of editing is to ask, “Are you sure this is what you want to say?” or “Are you sure you're telling this from the right perspective?”

In children's books, perspective is a really powerful tool. Sometimes you've got a story and I'll say, "Why don't you try telling it from the mouse's point of view in the corner, rather than these boring human characters?" What happens then? So, it's my job to ask the questions that push their creativity to new heights. But it's not my job to tell them what to write.

As for the evolution of publishing, I think children's books have become much more powerful, and that's partly because of Harry Potter, because you could suddenly make money out of children's books. But also, (there’s) the vast explosion in what's called the “young adult” market, where a lot of adult readers (who) read so-called grown-up books actually now read young adult books, such as “Hunger Games,” “Maze Runner,” (and) “Twilight.”

I guess you could say what they found in those books is the kind of inspiration they had when they were children.

What moments in your career are you the proudest of?

You'd expect me to say “Harry Potter,” and it was — it was transforming. I loved how it made reading cool again. But I'm also proud of championing new writers. Not all of them are widely successful and global superstars, but I'm glad I was able to recognise the talent. Often a book that is read by a relatively low number (of people) still means a lot and can still build a market. Books can have a long life.

What drew you to children’s books, and what does it mean to you to represent children?

When I worked on adult books at Penguin, I did not find that connection between readers and writers that so entrances me in children’s books. It seems unique that authors in children's books work with publishers to make the connection with their readers, the children, work — it's a team thing. Whereas with adult authors, you don't really have that connection with the readership.

Representing children is about finding voices that will resonate with them. The big difference between when I started and now is that we treat children more respectfully and with much less condescension.

What role do children's books play in shaping society and young minds, and what do you think the future holds for children's literature?

We're the last responsible media. We're the last ones who take our position responsibly with children. As an editor, I don't allow children's books through me that will do, in my view, damage to their growing up.

We deal with hope, generally speaking. Roald Dahl's books sometimes say that you can't (always) win, but you can win for yourself. You can't always vanquish the opposition, but you can be your own person within that difficult situation. You don't have to "obey the aunts" — you can be your own person.

I do believe that the future of children's literature is pretty bright. Children will continue to discover. The danger — which is partly why I'm retiring — is that we have to find a way to keep up with them: keep up with childhood, what they're concerned about, and what the emotions are that drive them. And that's a hard job in a world which is just as distressing to childhood as this one is.

But I still meet the book huggers. I meet the little girls and little boys that come up to you and say, “I got one of your books,” and they say, “I love this book.” And it's the physical relationship they have with the book and with children's authors, who are the secret friends of childhood, that I think is pretty magical and unbreakable still.