Roberto Calasso was born in Florence in 1941 and is the author of many books, including the international bestseller The Marriage of Cadmus and Harmony, which is being reissued as a Penguin modern classic this month. His new book, The Unnamable Present, is the ninth part of a series exploring myth and modernity. Described by the Paris Review as a “literary institution of one”, Calasso is also a translator, rare book collector and head of Italian publishing house Adelphi Edizioni, where he has worked since 1962 and published authors including Jorge Luis Borges, Bruce Chatwin and Milan Kundera.

The Unnamable Present is part of a series capturing the spirit of the times – why unnamable?
Being unnamable is the first characteristic of the world we have around us – that elusive character. We see the terrible weakness of words that try to name it. The job of the writer is to be at least an explorer of the unnamable. Words are multiplying themselves every day and they are less and less effective and that corresponds to the paradox of our secular world, which is immensely powerful in procedures, mainly technology, yet totally inadequate for expressing what is going on.

You’re also interested in hieroglyphs – are images a way of naming things?
Absolutely. I don’t think thought is simply discursive – the idea that it is is a way of diminishing thought.

The book is the ninth part in a series. How did you conceive of it?
I had in my mind to write three books about the world as it was, using concepts and images almost like characters. But I ended up making a long detour and writing six other books. The unexpected is everywhere – in ideas, images and plans and it’s a good thing to be always surprised by what you’re working on. As a rule, nothing happens as predicted – you can be sure of that.

Your earlier books are being issued as Penguin modern classics and a connecting theme is retelling myths. Is the present moment always in dialogue with the past?
Yes, that is unavoidable for me. You find it in all my books. The basis of all narratives for me are the myths. They are huge trees of stories and I started with the one that was nearest to me, which was the Greek forest of myths from Ovid to Homer, then plunged into the Indian jungle of myths, which I became interested in through reading the Upanishads and the Bhagavad Gita. My book Ardor goes far into exploring Vedic thought. The order of the world is a theme for all the books. The Vedics would have translated the world order as Rta, which also means truth. It means order for societies and for all that lies outside societies.

You were born in the turbulent year of 1941. How did that shape your thinking as a writer?
I had a rather dramatic childhood. I grew up in Florence up until 12 years old, then we went to Rome. My family had a very dramatic time as my father, Francesco, who was known as an antifascist, was arrested and condemned to death and we had to hide; my father later wrote a book inscribed to the two other antifascist professors who were arrested with him. My father was freed but had to disappear and so did we. I was given another name, as there was a danger of me and my elder brother being taken as hostages, because they were looking for my father. I was three years old in 1944 when I was told: “If someone asks you, you are Roberto Fachini.”

How did you develop a love of books?
I come from a family that is full of academics, scholars and publishers. My grandfather was the founder of a big publishing house in Italy called La Nuova Italia, and my father was professor of the history of law at the University of Florence; he used to work on texts mainly from the 16th to 18th century, so the house was full of marvellous folios. I grew up surrounded by old books. I was always in the midst of books. In fact, I started working for a publishing house at 21.

As well as a writer, you’re also a renowned publisher; how does it feel to be on both sides of the fence?
For me, it’s terribly natural. But I understand that lots consider it a monstrosity because in principle the idea is that a publisher is a businessman, so he should deal with money and practical things, whereas the writer is an artist – and being both seems suspicious. I have both lives and for me it’s natural.

What writers working today do you most admire?
Whatever a publisher says it’s going to be a disaster so professional secrecy is best.

Your new book is filled with literary references...
Writers don’t always realise that their work has additional meaning. What was essential to me was looking at when a piece was written. We learn a lot about fascism in the 1930s, for example, through the work of Virginia and Leonard Woolf.

What kind of reader were you as a child?
I was very curious. There are many books I loved, but one I adored is by Sto, a pseudonym, and the title was I cavoli a merenda – which means something like “cabbages for breakfast”: it’s a colloquial expression for something absurd or incongruous or both. I loved it so much that many years later as a publisher I gave the same title to our series of children’s books. So, it’s remained with me. He was a great craftsman.

When did you start writing?
Very early. I started putting down words in a book of recollections when I was about 12 or 13.

Do you have any writing habits?
I try not to go to the office in the mornings, so publishing is very concentrated in the afternoon. When I wake up I start writing. I always write with a fountain pen.

What books are on your bedside table?
I am totally immersed in the 10th part of my work which will be about 600 pages so I should concentrate on that, as it is due out in October.

How do you stack your books?
At the end of the year, as a gift to friends, we print a small book usually written by an author from the publishing house. This year, I wrote it myself and it’s called How to Order Books in Your Library and the answer is… there is no way. It’s a small book of 60 pages. I start by saying it’s a big problem with no solution and I go through various examples in the past of what has happened to me, so it’s personal and historical at the same time. I have about 50,000 books in five different places. It’s a drama every day trying to find a book.

• The Unnamable Present by Roberto Calasso is published by Allen Lane (£16.99). To order a copy go to guardianbookshop.com or call 0330 333 6846. Free UK p&p over £15, online orders only. Phone orders min p&p of £1.99