Petya Kokudeva is a Bulgarian writer and journalist. She studied journalism, she loves traveling and mixed all her passions in publishing travel stories and books for children. Lupo and Tumba, one of her most beloved picture book series, is published by Janet 45 Publishing House in Bulgaria and was translated into Croatian, Farsi, German, Hungarian, Romanian, and Turkish. Petya Kokudeva was awarded several prizes such as the national debut award Yuzhna Prolet and the Peroto, Konstantin Konstantinov (for children’s literature), Hristo G. Danov (offered by the Ministry of Culture) literary awards. She was also selected to represent Bulgaria in The International Youth Library’s calendar (2025) with a poem from her book Yoho Woho Fantasohoo. The first volume of Lupo and Tumbaseries, illustrated by Italian artist Romina Beneventi was translated into Romanian by Lora Nenkovska and published by Arthur Publishing House. Petya Kokudeva attended Bookfest 2026 International Book Fair in Bucharest, where Bulgaria was guest of honor.
You live in an attic full of children’s books, you say in the presentation of your book. Which are the children’s book you loved as a child and which are the ones you discovered lately and you keep reading on and on?
I remember reading Donald Duck and Scrooge McDuck comics in bed as a child. In one story, they were eating these enormous bean sandwiches, and I immediately got up and went to the kitchen to find something to eat myself. Even then, I was fascinated by the way books could influence my own world and inspire me to act.
Later, I discovered my favorite series, Arnold Lobel’s Frog and Toad , as well as the works of Tove Jansson, whom I hadn’t read as a child. More recently, I’ve been captivated by children’s books such as Mac Barnett’s The Wolf, the Duck, and the Mouse and Olivier Tallec’s Louis I, The King of Sheep . What these books have in common is their ability to tackle serious themes with humor and lightness ̶ a skill that requires remarkable talent.
You are a traveler and a writer. Maybe you could tell us a bit about your career and your experience as a writer for children. How did everything start, how has it evolved?
My story is a bit unusual. The subtitle of my debut book was Children’s Poems for Adults. Even bookstores weren’t quite sure where to shelve it. I was 28 at the time, and to be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure who the book was for either.
But readers found it and embraced it. Fifteen years later, it’s still in bookstores and has gone through numerous reprints. In those early years I started receiving invitations to visit schools and meet young readers. Through those encounters, I discovered how much I enjoyed engaging with children. That was the turning point. I realized that I wanted to write specifically for children, and I gradually adapted my style. In a way, that’s how I found my place in literature. There was no grand plan behind it ̶ it simply happened organically.
Your book, recently translated into Romanian as Lupo and Tumba (Arthur Publishing House), has these two adorable characters, a dog called Lupo and a raccoon called Tumba. How have they emerged from your imagination?
Lupo, the long-nosed dog with a more contemplative nature, is essentially me. He had been a minor character in some of my earlier books, but at a certain point I decided to promote him and make him the protagonist.
As for Tumba, he was inspired by my mother, who loves to rub her belly after a meal and say, “My tumba is happy!” Tumba is a funny, colloquial word for “belly” that originally comes from Turkish.
The idea of having conversations between the two of them came very naturally. I spend a lot of time with children, and they’ve trained me to think in that way. They ask the most wonderful questions: Do ants get married? When will the world end? Why is the panda black and white?
Quite often I don’t have an answer, and the children come up with their own explanations. One child once told me that pandas are black and white because they play too much chess.
Your book is a great collection of little revelations and jokes, many times with a well-played philosophical touch. My favourite is this one: “— Lupo, why do you think the sea sometimes comes closer to the shore and sometimes moves away from it? Lakes and rivers don’t do that. — Probably because it’s older. When you’re older, you’re always doubting something.” We, grown-ups, are indeed full of doubts. Which are your biggest doubts in terms of writing?
I’m full of doubts - mostly about my own abilities. At the same time, though, I’m a traveler by nature, which means I’m drawn to uncertainty. I enjoy the feeling of stepping into the unknown, of always being a beginner, as if I were back in first grade. That’s why I approach every new book as though it were my first. I never know whether it’s going to work out, and while that uncertainty can be stressful, it’s also part of what excites me. More generally, I’m fascinated by contradictions. I’m drawn to the tension between opposing forces, and I believe that the best literature often explores precisely those contradictions that make us human.
And which is your favourite little story in the book?
I'm a sleepyhead and I really love my pillow. That's why I would pick this one:
- Wake up, Tumba, stop sleeping!
- I'm not sleeping, Lupo, I'm just listening to what my pillow is telling me.
The book is translated by Lora Nenkovska, which confirmed once again her talent in finding the right words when translating from one language to another. Have you collaborated with her on solving the little word puzzles?
Lora is a bold and sensitive translator who has a remarkable instinct for finding exactly the right words. We enjoy talking and exchanging ideas, but I haven’t been involved in the translation of my book in any particular way. I think she genuinely enjoys the challenge of solving these linguistic puzzles and playing with language.
For the Lupo and Tumba series you collaborated with Italian illustrator Romina Beneventi. How have you two come together and how was the collaboration? Did you give her any details on how you wanted the characters to look like?
I remember that Romina, the illustrator, and I laughed a lot during the year she was working on the drawings. It was our fourth book together, so by then we were already good friends. She often used her mischievous cat, Mini, as inspiration for Tumba.
I didn’t give her any specific instructions - quite the opposite. I like the artists I work with to have complete creative freedom, and I enjoy being surprised by what they come up with. I’m not particularly fond of books in which the illustrations simply mirror the text. I prefer artwork that brings its own perspective and interpretation, adding something new to the story rather than merely repeating it.
The series of Lupo and Tumba Tumba has been translated into German, Persian, Croatian, Turkish and Romanian. How did you manage to make your books travel to all of these places and which is the feedback you got from the readers in those territories?
They’ve also been translated into Hungarian, a challenging language! Most of the credit for getting the books published in many languages belongs to my agent, Gergana Pancheva, and Sofia Literary Agency. Gergana is a poet herself, and she combines intuition, analytical thinking, and exceptional literary taste. Her goal isn’t simply to get a book published; she works to find the right publisher - one whose profile is a good match and that will be genuinely committed to bringing the book to its readers.
Last autumn, I had some wonderful opportunities to meet young readers in person in Croatia. But I think Lupo and Tumba have received their warmest welcome in Turkey, where readers often write to me and tag me on Instagram.
How have you been included in Sofia Literary Agency portfolio and how is the collaboration going?
They invited me in 2022, when the agency itself was launched. (Before that, there was no such agency in Bulgaria at all.) Only four years have passed since then, and they have already published 200 titles in more than 30 languages. In some languages - such as Croatian and Albanian - these are the first books translated from Bulgarian after many decades of inactivity. That is precisely the case with Lupo and Tumba in Croatia. Just recently, one of their authors, Rene Karabash, was shortlisted for the International Booker Prize.
We work together wonderfully (through thick and thin), and I’m eagerly looking forward to my next translation - with the wonderful Macedonian children’s publisher Strange Forest/Čudna šuma.
What does the Bulgarian book market for children’s literature look like? Which are the topics the authors go for, how are the books promoted and which is the public’s feedback?
In recent years, a remarkable number of small independent publishing houses specializing in children’s literature have emerged in Bulgaria. Some focus on books that address important social issues, others publish children’s works by internationally acclaimed authors better known for their writing for adults, while others champion more artistic and experimental books in the tradition of those recognized at the Bologna Children’s Book Fair.
Books that tackle challenging subjects are becoming increasingly common. Topics such as divorce, death, bodily autonomy, and even voting and elections are now finding their way into children’s literature. At the same time, Bulgaria has many successful contemporary children’s authors who regularly appear on bestseller lists. The same is true in adult literature - today, Bulgarians are reading their own writers more than ever.
Beyond the frequent visits that authors make to schools and kindergartens, there are also national initiatives in which prominent figures from various fields read their favorite books to children. This year, the International Sofia Festival for Children and Youth welcomed children’s authors from Brazil, Finland, and several other countries.
We also have two national book awards in which children themselves serve as the jury and choose their favorite books. I had the honor of winning one of them this spring and was shortlisted for the other.
Overall, the children’s book scene in Bulgaria is incredibly vibrant. A great deal of literature is being translated, and we have an outstanding generation of illustrators working with both Bulgarian and international authors. Some have received awards at the Bologna Children’s Book Fair, while others have been nominated for prestigious distinctions such as the Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award. Among them are Stella Dreiss, Ina Hristova, Yasen Gyuzelev, Siyana Zaharieva, and many others.
‘Home is where you can find your way to the kitchen even in the dark’, says one of your characters. You like to travel and you travel a lot. What does ‘home’ mean for you?
You know, life in Bulgaria isn’t easy. We still carry a heavy communist legacy, struggle with corruption, and seem stuck in a transition to democracy that never quite ends. Reading and books aren't a major part of life for many people, either. Yet (or maybe exactly because of that) this is where I feel I can be most useful. Perhaps home is where you feel you have a purpose bigger than yourself and can make some contribution with the modest skills you have.
[Photos by Ema Cojocaru.]
