Imagine a world in which books matter a great deal, but authors – their creators – do not. Imagine a world in which the author of the Next Best Thing is unknown; the words alone are what influence and inspire and transform.

In our modern era of celebrity culture, such a concept seems remote; crazy, even. We live in a people-centric world. And yet, one author is standing apart from the crowd.

I can’t tell you the author’s name; I do not know it. No one does.

I can’t tell you where the author lives, what her professional background is, what her inspirations for writing are. I do not know this about her. No one does.

All we readers have to go on is a pen name: Elena Ferrante.

Have you heard of Elena? Perhaps. More likely you have heard of her books, because this author tries to ensure that all of the focus is on the writing, not the writer. Her books are as follows:

• The Neapolitan novels: My Brilliant Friend,The Story of a New Name, Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay and The Story of the Lost Child
• Troubling Love
• The Days of Abandonment
• Fragments
• The Lost Daughter
• The Beach at Night

These books, published in Italian from 1992 and subsequently translated and published worldwide, are widespread bestsellers that are critically acclaimed. According to the Paris Review, ‘It is now common to hear Ferrante called the most ­important Italian writer of her generation.’

And yet, the writer behind the Ferrante pen name wants none of the glory of such accolades. In a letter to her Italian publisher before her debut novel was published, she declared:

I believe that books, once they are written, have no need of their authors. If they have something to say, they will sooner or later find readers; if not, they won’t. … I do not intend to do anything … that might involve the public engagement of me personally. I’ve already done enough for this long story: I wrote it. If the book is worth anything, that should be sufficient.

In the letter, she wrote of ‘those mysterious volumes, both ancient and modern, that have no definite author but have had and continue to have an intense life of their own’. She closes her letter by suggesting that while her demand for complete privacy may be unconventional and difficult for her publisher, she will at least be ‘the least expensive author of the publishing house’.

I find Elena Ferrante’s approach fascinating, as do many authors, I think. On the one hand, all authors crave peace and quiet in which to write, and to put our ‘art’ first and foremost. Many authors have spoken out about their discomfort at being in the public eye. Veronica Roth, for example, author of the wildly popular Divergent series, wrote a blog post after the first book was published admitting she was struggling greatly with anxiety now that her work was under inspection. ‘Writing used to feel safe,’ she wrote, ‘because it was so private.’

But the desire for anonymity is not whole-hearted for the majority of authors, or even realistic. Take the issue of promotion. Ferrante is not ‘the least expensive author of the publishing house’. The publisher must promote her books in order to sell them; they simply have to do this without her assistance. And, in fact, her decision to be so private has become her marketing hook: her books are not authorless at all, they are written by ‘that lady whose identity is so famously unknown’.

Putting aside the business of publishing, however, I see another, more compelling reason for the visibility of the author. It comes down to authenticity. Take Veronica Roth once more as an example. When you know something of the author – that anxiety has been an issue for her – the narrative of the Divergent series has more depth, more meaning: it is all about conquering fear.

In my own writing, I am present. I am not my heroines; their stories are not my own. But I have lived in and travelled to the locations in which my novels are set, and I know that my own sense of places comes forth strongly in the novels. Would you enjoy my books so much if you knew nothing of me? Or does knowing a little about how and why I wrote each book help you connect better to the story and the characters and the meaning? Is knowing that I write my romance novels sitting on a terrace overlooking the Mediterranean ocean meaningful? I think it is: meaningful, important, genuine.

When we like a book, we are interested in the writer. And I think, most of all, we respect that writer, not only for the writer’s ingenuity and creativity and talent and intellect, but for their courage in allowing themselves to be vulnerable. Writing, as Roth said, is safe. Sharing that writing publicly, standing behind that writing and being known as the author, is not so safe; it forces vulnerability. But as Jan Denise has put it, ‘There is something about vulnerability that helps us to connect with people.’ And all writing that is shared, not burned on the fire, is designed to connect the creator’s vision to others. As John Donne wrote:

No man is an island,
Entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.