The first thing patrons of Eslite Books see upon entering are stacks of The Lost Symbol, the latest effort by Dan Brown, one of China Times Publishing Company's signature authors, best known for the colossally popular thriller The Da Vinci Code that sold a million copies in Taiwan six years ago. Haruki Murukami is another of China Times Publishing's golden geese. Sales of the Chinese-language edition of his most recent book, 1Q84, have already cleared 100,000 copies since hitting shelves late last year.

The publishing of foreign works isn't always so cut and dried. Take, for example, New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman, whose 2005 analysis of international affairs, The World Is Flat, was published in Taiwan by the one-man publisher Ars Longa Press, topping all of the year-end sales charts. Yet Friedman's next book, Hot, Flat, and Crowded, was released in translation by a different publisher, Commonwealth Publishing Group, and the author was invited to Taiwan to promote the book.

How exactly does the process of this "invasion" of translated works play out? Who selects the books? How are responsibilities distributed within the publishing industry? And what determines who reaps the spoils?

To make sense of any of it requires examining the key role played by literary agents.

Though Taiwan's copyright licensing industry has only cropped up in the last 20 years, translated Western books have been available for much longer.

"Literary agents are like matchmakers: they help pair up foreign authors with Taiwanese publishers," says Chen Yu-Shiuan, Taiwan business director of Taiwan's oldest literary agency, Bardon Chinese Media Agency.

Largely unseen by the public, agents are the advance scouts of the industry, the primary source of information on new foreign books.

For its part, Bardon gleans its information from booksellers or the bestseller lists of publications that serve as barometers of the industry, such as Amazon.com, Publishers Weekly, and the New York Times. Moreover, large American publishing companies like Harper Collins and Random House frequently partner up with them, periodically providing "rights guides": detailed reports of their publishing plans and schedules that include book titles, authors, and descriptions of content. Although subject to revision due to changing circumstances, they have nonetheless mapped out as of March of this year their publishing plans all the way through 2012.

Annual international book fairs are indispensable to agents. Whether it be the London Book Fair in April, or BookExpo in America in May, or the granddaddy of them all, approaching its 62nd consecutive year this October, the Frankfurt Book Fair, they all serve as magnets for literary agents, copyright agencies, and publishing companies who mix casual schmoozing with copyright sales and exchange of information, all the while gauging how much to invest and which book has blockbuster written on it.

The Taiwanese appetite for foreign books has grown steadily over the passing years. The publishing market and operations have matured. Editors exhibit good taste in their choice of materials, and marketers are good at packaging and promoting sales. As these fine qualities have come to the attention of industry professionals at the Frankfurt fair-which is about copyright transactions more than anything else-Taiwan has become recognized as a major book market in Asia, behind only Japan and Korea, the latter of which has made every effort possible to make itself attractive to international publishing.

Chen Yu-Shiuan, Taiwan business director of Bardon Chinese Media Agency, says there's more to the trade than sniffing out the best books from the multitude of material out there. Behind every successful deal are myriad details and complications indiscernible to outsiders.

What then are the particulars of the copyright agency business? Gray Tan is president of the Grayhawk Agency, which he built himself over the last few years, representing big sellers like The Kite Runner and The Memory Keeper's Daughter. He sums it up neatly: "What we do is similar to real estate agent work."

Copyright agencies, he explains, are go-betweens. They themselves don't have to put up any money, but instead broker agreements between buyers and sellers of the copyrights, hammering out details such as the advance amount, royalty percentages (typically about 6% in Taiwan, sometimes as much as 7-8% if a book sells well), and the length of the contract (normally three to five years).

After a price is settled upon and a company purchases copyrights, the purchasing company then pays an advance sum to the author, 10% of which goes to the agency in accordance with industry protocol. The work doesn't end there, though. They still have to submit the cover of the Chinese translation for the author to approve, license the illustrations, report sales figures, and serve as a liaison between the author and the Chinese-language publisher.

Unlike Western countries, where copyright brokerage has existed for more than a century, Taiwan is a relative latecomer to the game. Agencies didn't emerge until the mid-1980s.

At first, Big Apple and Bardon enjoyed an unchallenged hegemony in Taiwan until the arrivals of English firm ANA, European-language specialists Jia-Xi Books, and literature maven Grayhawk.

Copyright agencies are affected by conventions and practices that vary widely from region to region. In the United States, for instance, a publishing company will typically work exclusively with one agency in Taiwan, as in the cases of W.W. Norton, purveyor of American and English literature, and Perseus Books, an alliance spanning several independent publishers, both of which partner with Bardon. In Japan, past connections have no bearing whatsoever, and winning a contract is a highly competitive affair.

As soon as an agency has received the right to license a title, then begins the courtship of any number of publishing companies.

Typically, in the case of rights pertaining to a new work by an established author, a "first option" is extended to whichever publisher published their previous works. When Khaled Hosseini, the author of The Kite Runner, released a new novel set against the backdrop of upheaval and strife in Afghanistan, A Thousand Splendid Suns, three years later, Ecus Publishing House was once again given the nod to release it in translation in Taiwan. Absent any preexisting relationship, the field is wide open and the copyright agency will actively court all available options.

Editors are attuned to public appetites, to say nothing of the fact that oftentimes their own literary proclivities are similar. So, what happens when a number of publishing companies express interest in the same title? In the interest of fairness, the authors or their managers or publishers request that the auctioning of a copyright be given a deadline, meaning that the bidding is fierce while it lasts.

Most of the time, a publisher publishing a book in translation will advance around US$1500 to the original author, although for authors of renown, whose books dominate the charts in the US and Great Britain and for whom movie rights have been sold, that figure is likely to eclipse US$10,000. In Taiwan, such a high figure is extremely rare.

Stylish covers for translated books have become increasingly valued for their ability to provide a competitive edge in wooing readers. For example, Ecus Publishing House, publisher of The Book Thief, The Thirteenth Tale, and The Kite Runner, in addition to the regular edition also produces special editions to commemorate various events, such as when an author visits Taiwan, or for exclusive distribution by a particular retail channel, making the books more attractive as collector's items.

Sometimes the copyright agency middlemen are dispensed with entirely. Larger publishing companies are able to rely on their own editorial acumen and deeper pockets-some in fact have their own in-house copyright acquisition departments-to attract foreign publishers. This adds more heat to an already smolderingly competitive business.

So, does the highest bidder take the marbles every time? According to Ben Han, director of rights at China Times Publishing, the answer is, "Not necessarily." Copyright transactions involve more than just money for goods. A slew of other concerns relate to what happens after the contracts are inked: Will the publishers of the translation meddle with the content? Will the follow-up marketing be implemented scrupulously? Will annual royalties be paid out in a timely fashion? All of these factors are crucial, and can subordinate the immediate interest in choosing the highest bid.

Emily Chuang, deputy editor-in-chief at Crown Culture Corporation, points out that competition criteria encompass more than bid prices, standing in the industry, and the magnitude of their previous projects. Marketing panache and the ability to devise a promotional strategy specific to the book is often what wins over a foreign author or publisher, because it gives them a comforting glimpse of the sincerity and creativity of their Taiwanese counterpart.

Chuang offers an extreme case to illustrate her point. In 2007, when bright new star Japanese author Manabu Makime's humorous novel The Fantastic Deer-Man was up for translation bids, the author made a surprising demand through his agent. All the prospective publishers of the translation were required to write a covering letter explaining their interest in Makime and his writing, in essence "applying" for the privilege.

Chuang's submission invoked the intuition she has developed in her 10 years as an editor and also her enthusiasm for the book. But the clincher was her recounting how she visited Kamogawa (located in Japan's Chiba Prefecture) after reading Makime's first novel Kamogawa Horumo. Seeing Kamogawa bathed in radiant sunbeams evoked a scene from the novel in which the protagonist is engaged in hot-blooded athletic struggle. Suddenly, Chuang was seized by powerful emotion. Everything looked so familiar somehow, as though she had been predestined to experience it. At that moment she became certain of one thing: "Crown has to be the publisher for Makime's work!"

Her essay's combination of imagery and sincerity won over the author, and bagged the contract for Crown. "That was the only time bidding for a copyright ever included an essay test!" she recalls with a smile.

Stylish covers for translated books have become increasingly valued for their ability to provide a competitive edge in wooing readers. For example, Ecus Publishing House, publisher of The Book Thief, The Thirteenth Tale, and The Kite Runner, in addition to the regular edition also produces special editions to commemorate various events, such as when an author visits Taiwan, or for exclusive distribution by a particular retail channel, making the books more attractive as collector's items.

Japan's large readership has fueled a flourishing publishing market. With the self-sufficiency that comes from robust domestic demand, Japanese publishers' attitudes towards foreign markets have been tepid. Moreover, Japanese characteristic fastidiousness in business matters tends to prolong negotiations and diminish profits. Only in the last couple of years, as the Japanese economy has crashed taking its publishing industry with it, have Japanese publishers expressed a greater interest in licensing books abroad.

Japanese authors enjoy great prestige in their country. They protect their books like their own children, exerting considerable control and having the final say even with the foreign editions on matters running the whole gamut from book cover design to advertising, from website content to rear jacket promotional blurbs. This is in stark contrast to the situation in Europe and America, where authors typically stand back and let their agents handle all production.

Wang Ruolan, editor-in-general at Ecus Publishing House, recalls an anecdote relating to their handling of the translation five years earlier of respected Jewish-American author Philip Roth's signature work, the American trilogy.

The trilogy was originally released in the US according to the chronology of each book's setting: American Pastoral, I Married a Communist, and The Human Stain. The series navigates the history of post-war America, beginning with the paranoia of the McCarthy years through the Vietnam War and ending with the sex scandal of the Clinton years. However, Ecus decided to release The Human Stain first, feeling that, because it had been made into a film starring Nicole Kidman and was set in contemporary times, it would offer a better point of entry for the Taiwanese reader.

In order to accomplish this, Wang had to expend a great deal of energy lobbying Roth. She pointed out Taiwanese readers' unfamiliarity with American history and also the relatively difficult literary quality of the trilogy. It took some back and forth, but eventually the author assented, and The Human Stain was the first of the trilogy presented to Taiwanese readers.

Roth doesn't read Chinese, but he made the unusual insistence of reviewing the translation by personally selecting someone to read it and report back to him. Fortunately, Ecus is extremely judicious in its employment of translators, and so everything progressed without any hurdles, earning Roth's friendship and esteem in the process.

Stylish covers for translated books have become increasingly valued for their ability to provide a competitive edge in wooing readers. For example, Ecus Publishing House, publisher of The Book Thief, The Thirteenth Tale, and The Kite Runner, in addition to the regular edition also produces special editions to commemorate various events, such as when an author visits Taiwan, or for exclusive distribution by a particular retail channel, making the books more attractive as collector's items.

Acquiring a copyright is a bit like a competition to see whose gut instincts and taste are superior. But more than that it resembles a lottery-with the right bet, it is possible to make a mint on a minimal investment.

Recently, longer novels have been all the rage in Taiwan. The book that touched off the craze is none other than Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, the first volume in the Harry Potter series, published in Taiwan by Crown.

Chuang notes that 400-page fairy tales were not what the Taiwanese public was clamoring after at the time, yet the group of editors at Crown in charge of vetting foreign books for publication was in agreement that this was a special book that had the potential to be a big hit. Accordingly, they got in touch with author J.K. Rowling's agent.

At the time, Sorcerer's Stone had been out nearly six months in the US and Europe, and Rowling had gone from anonymous single mother to media sensation. Crown's usual advance offer of US$1500 was immediately shot down, but six months later they sealed the deal for several thousand. The competition was far too slow on the draw-they only began pursuing a contract with Rowling's publisher a year after the ink had dried on Crown's contract. Now that all seven books in the Harry Potter series are available in Chinese, they have broken the all-time sales record in Taiwan, with 6.5 million copies sold, and Crown has reaped a windfall of NT$300 million in revenue.

After Harry Potter captivated the muggle world in 2000, a series of other long international bestsellers (dubbed "bricks" because of their heft and thickness) followed, including mystery thriller The Da Vinci Code in 2004 and the poignant The Kite Runners in 2005.

Ecus is one of 13 small publishing subsidiaries under the Cultural Enterprise Co. Ltd. banner. Known for their unique tastes, exquisite packaging, and marketing technique of floating out book excerpts to attract readers, they have met with consistent success. Wang Ruolan recalls that as a first novel by an unknown Afghan author, The Kite Runner only met with moderate success at first. But as readers discovered its merits it quickly catapulted to the top of the bestseller lists.

As it turns out, at the same juncture Ecus was developing plans for a contemporary literature series, and The Kite Runner seemed to have the makings of a good market probe. They licensed the title for the moderately high price of several thousand US dollars. As it heads into the fifth year of its release in Taiwan it has sold 50,000 copies.

Published in Taiwan in 2006, La Sombra del Viento, a magical realism take on the detective story, is one of Gray Tan's (of the Grayhawk Agency) most representative efforts to date.

Tan says that he came across La Sombra del Viento on Amazon. Intrigued by the introductory snippet in English, he researched further, discovering that the original language was in fact Spanish. Though he himself spoke no Spanish he nevertheless resolved to obtain the copyright.

Spanish language and culture are not widely understood in Taiwan, and are accorded little attention. Fortunately, La Sombra del Viento's agent was very open-minded. He figured that for it to sell well in Asia would be a difficult assignment, but as long as expectations were reined in, there was no reason not to let Tan make a go of it.

Much to everyone's surprise, a little later, without any fancy promotion the book had swept the globe, being licensed in 40 different countries and selling millions of copies. The literary establishment heaped praise, giving rise to what the Western media dubbed "Zafoin fever," after the author's surname. Gray Tan obtained the right to license the title for the high price of US$13,000, which was sold to the Eurasian Publishing Co. This series of events established his reputation as an eagle-eyed judge of talent.

These global marketing triumphs have encouraged publishing companies to drum up the investment capital; no matter how dour the overall state of the book market, there is still the hope of landing the big one, and so the competition grows fiercer by turns.

So, does putting up ever larger advances for books, continually upping the ante, necessarily entail success? Ben Han of China Times Publishing demurs on that question. He observes that a book's success rests on a combination of factors: marketing, media exposure, effective retailing. Every global mega-hit is propped up by scores of commercial failures. It's all too common in the US for a publisher to pay out US$100,000 to an author only to see that investment evaporate in lackluster sales.

Gray Tan adduces the following example. In 1997, American author Charles Frazier's first effort, Cold Mountain, surpassed all expectations with sales of 2 million copies. The literary establishment adored it-it won a National Book Award-and it was made into a successful motion picture that received several Academy Award nominations.

Random House subsequently bid an astronomical US$8 million to publish Frazier's next novel based on a one-page synopsis. But that book, Thirteen Moons, was 10 years in the making and earned mixed reviews from the critics. Recouping that investment does not appear to be in the cards.

Emily Chuang laughs: "The book industry today isn't so much a gamble, it's an M-shaped society!" Either a book is wildly successful or it languishes in obscurity. There doesn't seem to be much middle ground.

Tan says that while he keeps a finger on the pulse of the publishing market, people also seek him out, sending him upwards of 1000 books per year for his perusal. He's only able to read about 10% of them, but when he comes across something that grabs him, he doesn't waste time in recommending it to publishers. Though his skills as a pitchman are formidable, he's often rejected four or five times before anything materializes.

The 2008 academic thriller Obedience is a clear example. It was the author's first outing, and as it hadn't made any incursions on any of the foreign bestseller lists, there weren't any benchmarks by which to predict its performance. Eventually, Faces Publishing Ltd. picked up the copyright. In time it proved to be a hit in Taiwan, selling 40,000 copies.

The craze for reading novels that swept the world from 2004 onward has since peaked and is now gradually abating. But novels still attract a faithful readership.

Facilitating the publication of a chart-sweeping book is of course a source of great satisfaction for those in the copyright licensing game. But Chen Yu-Shiuan and Gray Tan both agree that it is more elementally satisfying-on a literary level-just to bring worthy books to public attention.

Chen sees her role as planting literary seeds for others to harvest. Once after giving a lecture at the Taipei Public Library presenting Measuring the World, a difficult, yet eminently worthwhile German popular science novel examining the fun of exploring the world, she was approached by a fifth grader who excitedly shared his enthusiasm for the work. Taken aback by his precociousness, she was also reminded of the fundamental purpose and pleasure of her work.

Though only 31 years of age, Tan has plied his trade for six years already. He maintains a personal blog, "Grayhawk's Eyrie," written with the same intensity of spirit that makes him a successful pitchman and negotiator. In it he records poignant observations on the books he reads, as well as behind-the-scenes details of his copyright work. The site is popular with his fellow tradesmen as well as the lay public.

Tan says that clinching the copyrights of the huge, critically successful international blockbusters is great, but recognizing the diamonds in the rough, great books obscured within the massive tide of books published annually, is the most indispensable pleasure. It is at those moments that he can grasp the weight of his contribution.

This irrepressible passion for reading and discovering the world, essential for those in copyright licensing, is also the catalyst behind Taiwan's burgeoning translated book market.

Stylish covers for translated books have become increasingly valued for their ability to provide a competitive edge in wooing readers. For example, Ecus Publishing House, publisher of The Book Thief, The Thirteenth Tale, and The Kite Runner, in addition to the regular edition also produces special editions to commemorate various events, such as when an author visits Taiwan, or for exclusive distribution by a particular retail channel, making the books more attractive as collector's items.

Stylish covers for translated books have become increasingly valued for their ability to provide a competitive edge in wooing readers. For example, Ecus Publishing House, publisher of The Book Thief, The Thirteenth Tale, and The Kite Runner, in addition to the regular edition also produces special editions to commemorate various events, such as when an author visits Taiwan, or for exclusive distribution by a particular retail channel, making the books more attractive as collector's items.

Whether viewed in terms of its history, scope, or trendsetting significance, the Frankfurt Book Fair reigns supreme, a literary treasure trove for copyright agencies to mine.

Stylish covers for translated books have become increasingly valued for their ability to provide a competitive edge in wooing readers. For example, Ecus Publishing House, publisher of The Book Thief, The Thirteenth Tale, and The Kite Runner, in addition to the regular edition also produces special editions to commemorate various events, such as when an author visits Taiwan, or for exclusive distribution by a particular retail channel, making the books more attractive as collector's items.

Stylish covers for translated books have become increasingly valued for their ability to provide a competitive edge in wooing readers. For example, Ecus Publishing House, publisher of The Book Thief, The Thirteenth Tale, and The Kite Runner, in addition to the regular edition also produces special editions to commemorate various events, such as when an author visits Taiwan, or for exclusive distribution by a particular retail channel, making the books more attractive as collector's items.

An ardent fan of fantasy novels, literary agent Gray Tan lets his own tastes dictate the direction of his business.

Stylish covers for translated books have become increasingly valued for their ability to provide a competitive edge in wooing readers. For example, Ecus Publishing House, publisher of The Book Thief, The Thirteenth Tale, and The Kite Runner, in addition to the regular edition also produces special editions to commemorate various events, such as when an author visits Taiwan, or for exclusive distribution by a particular retail channel, making the books more attractive as collector's items.