Not knowing who she is actually boosts sales.

As her fourth book in the Neapolitan Series vies for the Booker Prize, I wondered here, a few weeks ago, if Elena Ferrante wins, will she sacrifice her anonymity to accept it?

In a facinating new article in the author's insistence on a level of privacy that makes J.D. Salinger look like a fan dancer, The Financial Times has the answer:

There are those who hope that winning a prize — the £50,000 Man Booker International is awarded in May — could tempt the writer into the spotlight. They will be disappointed. In the letter sent to her publishers a quarter of a century ago, Ms Ferrante wrote: “I won’t go and accept prizes, if any are awarded to me.” Revealing, at least, an authorial presentiment of the stir she was going to create.