Hagfish is a small press focused on out-of-print and obscure books by women. But it’s flexible on all of those things.
Sunshine poured into Naomi Huffman’s apartment in Brooklyn, New York in the United States on a late summer afternoon, casting a warm glow on an impressively long alphabetised bookshelf.
These were ideal cat nap conditions, and one fluffy feline wisely snoozed atop a box containing hats embroidered with the phrase “Man Hating Psycho”.
It was the name of a story collection by Iphgenia Baal, the second title from Hagfish, a small press focused on out-of-print and obscure books. Huffman and Julia Ringo started the project in 2022 as a studio offering developmental support and freelance editing services and began acquiring books the next year.
Their debut title arrived in May: To Smithereens, the 1972 novel by Rosalyn Drexler set between the worlds of art criticism and women’s wrestling. Drexler died last month at 98, not long after her book received a new wave of recognition.
The pair work independently (Ringo lives in a different part of town), but regularly convene at Huffman’s to mail galleys and exchange paperbacks. Dressed in a well-worn “Grey Gardens” T-shirt, Huffman, 36, poured a cup of tea for Ringo, 34, who sat on an Oriental rug. They were discussing the language sometimes used to describe “forgotten” writers.
“I really resent when something is labelled a ‘discovery,’” Huffman said. “‘We found this in the rubble of time’ – it was there all along!”
“We’re not labelling these authors as tragic cases that we’re rescuing from wherever they tumbled, but women who produced creative work under sometimes challenging circumstances,” Ringo added.
Huffman (left) and Ringo, the creators of Hagfish, an imprint they started in 2022 after leaving jobs at Farrar, Straus & Giroux, in Brooklyn borough of New York. — Photos: TESS MAYER/The New York Times
Hagfish is far from the first publisher to focus on backlist titles; the co-founders cited New York Review Books, McNally Editions and Persephone Books as inspirations.
Huffman and Ringo’s idea of “overlooked,” however, also includes contemporary writers they believe deserve more attention. Baal’s Man Hating Psycho, for instance, which will be released in the United States this month, was first published just a few years ago in Britain.
Hagfish’s spring title will be In the City, the 1987 novel by award-winning author Joan Silber.
“For as much recognition as Joan has had, I think she should be as famous as Ann Patchett or Elizabeth Strout,” Ringo said.
They gravitate toward voices that are messy, playful and sometimes raunchy, usually delivering unromanticised truths about loneliness, sex and class.
“So far, it’s all been woman,” Ringo said, though she noted that Hagfish’s latest agency client was a male author.
“We consider this a feminist project, but that’s a term we use generously.”
“The funny thing about missions in small presses is you don’t actually have to stick to them,” said Martin Riker, who since 2009 has run Dorothy, an independent feminist imprint, with his wife, Danielle Dutton. “You do end up swerving a lot – there’s a vitality to doing different kinds of books.”
Huffman and Ringo both began working as editors at Farrar, Straus & Giroux in 2017. Huffman had relocated from Chicago, where she ran a small press out of her apartment.
“We bonded really quickly, we had similar taste in books and ideas about what we wanted to do in our careers,” Ringo said, recalling an early lunch at Westville.
The late Drexler’s novel is set between the worlds of art criticism and women’s wrestling.
Huffman was impressed that Ringo had acquired her first book as an assistant editor.
“She struck me as a very conscious and precise writer, even when we were just G-chatting about the The Transit Of Venus reissue.”
“Naomi had the cool factor of not feeling like part of the publishing machine,” Ringo said. “I was energised by that outsider energy.”
In 2018, Huffman began exploring the archives of author Katherine Dunn at Lewis & Clark College. Her efforts led to the 2022 publication of Toad, a rejected novel by Dunn, who died in 2016, about the unrealised dreams of a “bohemian slob” in Portland, Oregon.
Near Flesh, a story collection, arrives this fall via MCD Books, a division of Farrar, Straus & Giroux.
Ringo was inspired by her colleague’s “gumption,” and the pair began envisioning an imprint focused on reissues from the FSG archives, even landing on a name.
“FSG’s colophon is three fish, and the MCD imprint uses an electric eel,” Ringo said. With aquatic creatures in mind, they considered, per Huffman, “the queerest, most feminist fish.”
Jawless and industriously slimy, the gloriously repulsive hagfish fit the bill.
Looking to challenge herself, Huffman left FSG in early 2020 to work as a freelance editor. She not so subtly held out hope that Ringo would join her to pursue Hagfish.
“The ingredients for persuasion were there, but I was definitely scared to leave,” Ringo recalled.
After much consideration, Ringo took the leap two years later. As Hagfish began to take shape, the pair formed an unpaid advisory board, a group of “ideal readers” who offer feedback on cover designs and acquisitions.
Members include writer and artist Molly Crabapple, music critic Jessica Hopper and filmmaker Sandi Tan.
The co-founders also sought advice from industry figures like Rick Simonson, the chief bookseller of Elliott Bay Book Company in Seattle. “He thought it was amazing that no one had ever looked into everything that Toni Morrison had ever acquired for Random House as an editor,” Ringo said.
They took the bait. One unfamiliar name was Nettie Jones, whose 1984 debut, Fish Tales, purchased by Morrison for US$3,000 (RM12,680), had made a small splash in its time.
Hagfish is a small press focused on out-of-print and obscure books by women. But it’s flexible on all of those things.
Struck by the modernity of Jones’ writing, Huffman and Ringo tried to contact her through Wayne State University, where her manuscripts are held. In the meantime, they read old reviews in digitised archives and pursued obscure connections, including former agents and the organisers of a symposium about Jones’ mentor, Gayl Jones.
“They actually looked for me,” Jones, 84, said over the phone. “Some folks simply said that they just couldn’t find me.”
She had long maintained faith that her book would get a second life. “These women came to my home with respect for me,” she said, describing Huffman and Ringo as her “angels.”
“I believe they brought me some lovely desserts,” she added.
Jones required the resources of a larger publisher, so Huffman and Ringo became her agents, learning the ropes along the way.
In April, Farrar, Straus & Giroux reissued Fish Tales, which The New York Times described this spring as “drawing the rapturous buzz that Jones hoped for 40 years ago.”
Huffman and Ringo are now in the process of sifting through unpublished material by Jones.
“It’s hard to know exactly why Fish Tales didn’t do better,” Huffman said. She theorised that Morrison’s departure from publishing before the book’s release left Jones without an “in-house cheerleader.”
“Books need to have someone loudly clamouring behind the scenes to rise above the general masses,” Ringo said.
They each aim to be that for their writers, and are always on the lookout for more opportunities to do so. Huffman discovered Silber’s 1987 novel while browsing the East Village bookshop Codex.
“Every time I go into a used bookstore I’m looking for any name I’ve never heard of, any title that doesn’t ring a bell,” Huffman said. “Immediately, I’m flipping to the copyright page.”
It can be hard to say exactly what they are looking for. But they know it when they see it.
“There’s a phrase that we use,” Huffman continued. “‘Timeless, but ahead of its time.’” – ©2025 The New York Times Company
