Founded in 2003 by Samia Zennadi (archaeologist) and Karim Chikh (electrical engineer), APIC publishing has since embarked on a literary cruise aboard a paper ship blackened with words.
A cruise that did not necessarily sail on a calm sea, under a bright sun, sailing off where new horizons would on the next page and waves a parenthesis to be opened; rather on a stormy sea, struggling to balance on a semicolon – one foot anchored on the ground, as a perched dot on land –, and to navigate through an unstable equilibrium among letters, words, verbs, without jostling or belting the woes caused by the abuse of iodine. Full stop.
A cruise that can be conjugated in all climates and tenses, with a preference for the literary near future, so that nobody can forget.
“A publishing house that tombe à-pic” (“just in time”), some said. “Apic, ça pique!” (“it bites!”, said others. Also reminiscent of a beekeeper, passionate by shaping literature and harvesting an intoxicating nectar.
Between novels, poetry, short stories, essays and coffee table books, the waltz of books lulls the contrasts of a daily newspaper on the run and dreamy nights, always on the lookout for a new literary cruise, aboard a paper ship blackened with words, with one destination: safe arrival at the harbour of letters.
« Les éditions qui tombent à-pic », nous avons souvent travaillé avec des auteurs qui sont tombés à-pic ; « Apic, ça pique ! » avec des textes qui dérangent, qui suscitent des questionnements, à contre-courant ; « Apiculture, ou la passion du façonnage des belles lettres et la récolte du nectar enivrant », dans l’espoir d’apporter, dans le courant de l’évolution humaine.