Amalia Gkavea

‘'The final gasp of his short lifeWas sickly with despair.Whoever thought that you could dieFrom breathing outdoor air?''

For most lovers of the 7th Art, Tim Burton is an incredible talent. For us Gothic aficionados, Tim Burton is a genius, a pioneer whose creations opened the audience's heart and mind to the contemporary Gothic style, aesthetics, and philosophy. He is the one who found the perfect balance between the satire of how most people perceive the Gothic wave, evident in Beetlejuice, and the sadness, isolation and blind persecution of the Different, the Other exceptionally depicted in his masterpiece Edward Scissorhands. The majority of his films is a hymn to the feelings of those who are isolated by a society that cannot understand or accept. Corpse Bride, Big Eyes, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the violent, captivating Sweeney Todd, the exceptional Alice In Wonderland, the atmospheric Sleepy Hollow and his contribution to the classic The Nightmare Before Christmas.

The 20th-anniversary edition of The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy is a collection of poems dedicated to characters that would find themselves in the company of Edward Scissorhands. Little ones in all their sweet ‘'ugliness'' and weirdness. Sadness, loneliness, children denied by their parents. The Stick Boy, the Staring Girl, the Robot Boy and the Boy With Nails in His Eyes. The Stain Boy, the Voodoo Girl, the Toxic Boy, and the Mummy Boy and the unfortunate Oyster Boy of the title. Poems that may appear funny on the surface but hide a deep bitterness for choices that are not made by the unfortunate souls whose course leads to dark places. Beautiful, gothic and whimsical sketches, clever rhymes full of black humor and bitter truths.

I don't think we expected anything less by Tim Burton, a true genius...

‘'You should count yourself lucky, for only last week,I treated a girl with three eyes and beak.That your son is half oysterYou cannot blame me.....have you considered, by chance,A small home by the sea?''

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

‘'Be with me always - take any form- drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! ‘' Heathcliff to Cathy, ‘'Wuthering Heights''

These are the most beautiful, most vicious, heartfelt words ever written in Literature and I do not accept ‘'no'' as an answer. Sorry...

I've never been a reader of memoirs. I feel that they can be vain, holier-than-thou, didactic and pretentious. My attitude began to change after I read Maggie O'Farrell's I Am, I Am, I Am. It proved to be one of the most powerful books I had ever read. Be With Me Always won me over the moment I saw the title. Like a devoted worshipper of Wuthering Heights, I found the reference unmistakably enticing. When I read Hannah's review, I decided the time had come. While I enjoyed the majority of the essays and appreciated the literary references and her love for the best book ever written, I cannot compare it to O'Farrell's memoir. I felt it tried too hard to produce a similar result, it pales in comparison.

The cover depicts an anatomical heart. Beautiful choice if it weren't for the fact that we have a choice similar to ...I Am, I Am, I Am. I cannot say I liked this coincidence. I do not believe in coincidences and I don't think this was a coincidence at all. Putting this issue aside, the heart, the muscle that our lives depend on, is constantly present in the book in every form of symbolism. The heart as the provider of life in the face of the children protected in their mother's womb and the indicator of passion that becomes love towards another human being. The heart as a symbol of health threatened by a mere abnormal cell growth. The heart that beats quickly when a fond memory returns, when we walk in the woods in the company of Mother Nature. The heart that nourishes and the heart that breaks.

‘'But I also know that I will sometimes be haunted by the fleeing shadow of a figure in black, a glimpse of turtleneck, a drop of blood, the silence that comes before the call, reminders that I have lost something I once cherished, something I can never have again, something I will always carry with me.''

In atmospheric essays, Randon Billings Noble narrates a turbulent relationship, the memories of her grandparents, the insecurity and fear that comes with the announcement of a pregnancy, the sound of the world breaking when disease knocks on your door. Literature and Art are major players on an enticing stage. Her essay on Dracula is one of the most beautiful, haunting texts you'll ever read. I loved it especially because it focuses on Coppola's masterpiece instead of Stoker's novel. The 1992 film is one of my favourites along with Dracula Untold with Luke Evans. ‘'Yet Another Day at the Jersey Shore'' brought me back to the beautiful days I spent at my grandmother's house. I enjoyed the impressive essay on the amethyst, the aquamarine, the garnet, the onyx and the diamond, their origins and the myths associated with them, dedicated to her grandmother. There is also a very interesting essay on Sherlock Holmes, Emily Dickinson and the youth that cannot return.

The problem I faced was the tone, the ‘'voice'' of the memoir. I found it inconsistent and there were certain themes that were repeated over and over again. For example, the frequent references to the men in the writer's life became mundane after a while. They seemed slightly melodramatic and exaggerated. However, this is my personal opinion since I am not the best person to understand or sympathize with love problems and pining hearts. It holds no meaning for me. In addition, I failed to notice the importance of shoes in a life's course. That essay was superficial and forced, in my opinion. It is my impression that the writer tried too hard to adopt a dark, haunting tone and this didn't quite work. Even the choice of a near-death experience as the first chapter seemed to echo O'Farrell's memoir and as I've already said I do not appreciate such ‘'coincidences''.

I don't want to sound too negative, though. Be With Me Always was a very interesting read and the writing was satisfying as was the focus on the unbreakable relationship between Literature and the most important moments of our lives. However, I am so in love with ...I Am, I Am, I Am that it was difficult to distance myself and see past the similarities that seemed deliberate. If you haven't read O'Farrell's memoir, this book will definitely stay with you.

‘'The raven was sent away and never came back. Did it drown? Did it find land and stay there? What of its mate back in the ark? The dove returned with an olive branch and presumably united with its mate. But what of the raven? The dove came back with a story in its beak. The raven disappeared into silence. When we have flown alone over deep waters, what story do we tell when we return? What stories do those left behind tell if we do not?''

Many thanks to Hannah who brought this book to my attention with her beautiful review. See it here: www.goodreads.com/review/show/2587105259

Many thanks to University of Nebraska Press and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

‘'You think knowing you can never change that the rottenness is too deep - rooted in you, that it's part of who you are, you think that makes anything better, that it stops the guilt, the shame?''

Beautiful quote, isn't it? Three troubled lovers of Art. A confused middle-aged art expert tries to confront his marital issues and his lust for beautiful creations. An art dealer with dangerous secrets, a young woman who tries to follow her dreams. Winter in Berlin during the 1930s. Van Gogh and the wealth of German philosophers in a glamorous and gloomy background. It is a true wonder how short this book fell when the ingredients could not have been better...

What I am about to write is strictly my personal opinion. Chances are that many will read the book and enjoy it. I couldn't. The setting was ideal, the scenery was beautiful. However, I found the prose to be average and the dialogue inadequate, almost amateurish. The swearing was horrible, exaggerated and utterly inappropriate for the era and the plot. In addition, the complications of the sexual preferences of the characters were irrelevant to the main story and, in my opinion, boring and tasteless. I am not reading a novel to find out who slept with whom. I am not the least bit interested in such themes. I wanted to read this book to absorb the atmosphere of the era, of Berlin and to experience a supposedly good story. Leave all the rest for a mass-marketed, trashy romance...

The endless, unnecessary dialogue that leads nowhere and bears no resemblance to the way Germans speak does not compliment this book. The interactions felt heavily modern, clumsy, soulless. The characters were nothing groundbreaking, in my opinion. I found them boring and one-dimensional and I couldn't bring myself to care for their fate. Emmeline had some potential but the execution was extremely problematic.

It's a pity, really. You have the beautiful Berlin setting, a turbulent era full of social and political upheaval, the fascinating world of Art and the mysteries that surround the genius that answered to the name Van Gogh and you manage to produce a snooze-fest - by my standards, at least- full of naive dialogue, boring characters and implausible plot lines. Historical Fiction is a tricky genre, it will expose every weakness of a writer. When you have read Erpenbeck's Visitation, a masterful elegy to Berlin and its turbulent history, you can only be disappointed (and in certain parts, disgusted...) Naturally, to compare Erpenbeck and this writer here is like comparing Shakespeare to a romance writer...In my opinion, this is one of the worst books of the year.

It's about time to quit using the old ‘‘based on a true story'' line. It doesn't really work anymore...This book is a disgrace and a disservice to everything I call ‘‘Literature''.

Many thanks to Virago and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.

‘'The four women of Cala sat in its dining room on the autumn equinox, wearing garlands of ash and hazel, visible to one another only by candlelight.''

In a farmhouse somewhere in the Outer Hebrides, four women have decided to live in seclusion, shutting out the world that has disappointed them. The villagers regard them as witches and the women do not deny their heritage, supposedly descending from a witch. However, the rules are many and strict in this strange coven and Euna is tired to live in ignorance. There comes a time when the little one must find itself into the wild and Euna decides to discover what lies beyond their stony refuge. This is the background of the strange, attractive and troubling Cala by Laura Legge.

Legge composes a modern tale set in one of the most beautiful places on Earth and focuses on Euna, a young woman who cannot bring herself to follow the 200 rules of the cover any longer. The villagers gaze upon with suspicion and consider them feints like the kelpies of the legends. Leggee is right in placing the focus on Euna, a rebel soul that still retains feelings of love and solidarity for the coven. In a beautiful, mysterious setting, Legge uses references to Verdi's version of Lady Macbeth and The Little Mermaid as parallelism of the dangers lurking when women attempt to spread their wings and fly. Despite the threats, we refuse to be chained and the uncertainty that always comes with such choices is excellently depicted in Euna's questionable choices results of her attempts to discover the world and herself. Her personal course is haunting and raises many points for discussion. However, the novel itself was not without a few significant issues.

Led by the synopsis and the title, I expected a certain tone and atmosphere, a mystical, haunting Scottish aura, darkness, and mists. I didn't find it in this novel. What I read was a (mostly) well-structured story with a clear contemporary setting and a few moments of the haunting Scottish tradition. The fact that my expectations weren't met wasn't the writer's fault and it would be unfair to rate it lower because of my misled perception. What made me subtract a star was the combination of problematic execution, the lack of focus during the second part of the book and the improbability of the storyline exposed in the third part.

Certain parts of the story seemed unnecessarily long, especially Aram's plotline and Aileen's disgusting presence. There was a problem of coherence in terms of the characters. For example, Euna desires a new life and then seems to forget her purpose. Muirell starts as a truly despicable pseudo-leader and then becomes the mother hen. I wanted Euna as the true main protagonist throughout the novel. The fact that she shared the spotlight with Aram, an interesting character that helped in advancing certain themes but repetitive and unlikable, didn't help a lot. I wanted to experience the change in Euna and I didn't get it. And Aileen is a reason not to read this book. Her stupid self was cringe-worthy.

The feature that rescues Cala is the dialogue. The absence of quotation marks is generally fascinating but also extremely tricky. Legge truly excelled here. This style suits the overall story to perfection. The dialogue is a beautiful marriage of Gaelic and English, reflecting the cultural roots of the women and Euna's inexperience with the world. It takes some time to get used to but it was striking. The themes of prejudice, cultural appropriation, cultural heritage, sexism and sexuality as a means of manipulation and deceit are successfully depicted.

I felt that Legge tried to include too many themes and lost the focus in certain parts. Despite this issue and the fact that it lacked the atmosphere I expected, it is a very interesting book that will give you many chances for a brilliant discussion and it will stay with you. Laura Legge is definitely a new name to watch in the literary universe.

‘'Like the tawny owls and the weasels and the fallen-acorns, links in the same long chain, a woman could never truly be free.''

Many thanks to Head of Zeus and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

‘'In a household where a death has taken place, the clock must be stopped at once.''

It is easy to stop the clocks when Death has arrived in a house. The rules are simple. Stop the clocks, cover the mirrors, open the doors and windows to let the soul fly free, whisper it to the birds and the bees. What happens when Death has covered an entire country under a dark veil? What happens when Death has conquered an entire continent, the entire world with Hatred and Tyranny as his faithful followers? You cannot stop the clock nor cover the mirrors. You cannot turn back the time, you cannot search for a new home. You can only pray that the suffering will not last long. This is the journey of the characters in this outstanding book by Jenny Erpenbeck.

‘'The dandelions are the same here as back home, and so are the larks.''

A house by a lake outside Berlin stands witness to a turbulent, troubling course. From the days of the Weimar Republic, through the bloody path of two World Wars with devastating results for the country and the entire world, stopping in a nightmarish terror state reflected in the German ‘'Democratic Republic'' (what a choice of words to name a totalitarian factory of deceit and oppression....) to the Reunification and a fragile future. 12 characters, whose lives are irrevocably depended on and altered by the fate of their land where the notion of ‘'home'' has been lost, in a haunting, dark version of Chaucer's Tales, albeit much more powerful and poignant. Dark fables narrating a journey of loss and violence.

‘'Now no one knows she is here any longer. All around her everything is black, and the care of this black chamber is she herself. The circumstance that there isn't even a narrow crack to let the light in is intended to save her life, but it also means there is no longer anything differentiating her from the darkness.''

Jenny Erpenbeck writes unlike any other writer I've ever had the fortune to read. I have never come across such a powerful blend of darkness, poetry, exposure of the subconscious, dread for what is to come and a deep sadness and guilt for all that could not be prevented. This is evident in her masterpiece The End of Days and in Visitation. Her writing is like a glorious ivy that grows and grows and still has certain parts that are unseen by the sun. Beautiful symbolism, clarity through metaphors, themes that are linked to each other, images that are lurking in a cold corner, waiting to enter your mind. Customs of marriage and death co-exist with memories of a bloody past, a terrifying present, a hope that something will change. Once again, War shows itself as the greatest culprit, a plague not by God but by human beings that are ignorant of every basic virtue and sense. War as a chance for uneducated fools to exert control. War as the ultimate weapon for tyrants. War as the nightmare that will always be by our side as long as the human race exists.

‘'When you've arrived, can you still be said to be fleeing? And when you're fleeing, can you ever arrive?''

The Architect is the symbol of the open wound of a country torn in two, reflected in the presence of the S-Bahn, walking in the streets of a divided Berlin, reaching Friedrichstraße. A girl of Jewish descent tries to save herself in a story that immediately brought Polanski's The Pianist to mind. A farmer tries to arrange his daughters' fortune, an officer of the Red Army is defeated by his own weapon, a writer tries to satisfy everyone in order to buy a house, a visitor is a stranger among strangers. At the centre of the journey we find the House and the Gardener whose life becomes dependant on it. I felt that the Gardener was given the most prominent role, perhaps as a symbol of our capacity to plant and reap, to create and to destroy. Our dubious connection to Nature, our desire and ability to create beauty and the million ways we invent to rape her and her creatures.

Keep in mind that these aren't characters in the traditional sense of the word but symbols, archetypes of the people who have experienced the tragedy and horror of War throughout the centuries. They represent fears, hopes, shattered dreams. Resilience and Faith. It would be a mistake to consider them as actual characters.

Beautifully translated by Susan Bernofsky, Visitation is a literary masterpiece created by a writer who clearly demonstrates that even the most unutterable horrors can acquire an eerie, frightening beauty in the hands of a truly gifted artist. This is true Literature, a word we have begun to forget...

‘'To whom do these words now belong in such darkness?''

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

‘'How I wish that Discord could be banished from the world.''

There have been many novels that chose the greatest war story of all time as their setting. Trilogies, plays, you name it. This graphic novel by Gareth Hinds is probably the best adaptation I've ever encountered.

Narrating the rhapsodies of Homer's immortal epic is no easy task. However, Hinds succeeds in transferring the Trojan War in the contemporary art of the Graphic novel and retaining the beauty of the Homeric language and the violent atmosphere of the bloody dispute between the Achaeans and the Trojans. I was impressed by the style of the illustrations, the way the Greek deities were depicted, the clothes, the weaponry, the architecture. Every characteristic of the Bronze Age is brilliantly portrayed. The impressive moments are many. The fury of Achilles, the interventions of the Olympians, Helen's guilt, Agamemnon's arrogance, Hector's despair. The futility of a war for power and greed, the sacrilege, the dubious glory. Brilliant translation, extraordinary artwork.

Imagine a universe where Homer returns to life, in our world, and decides to become a Graphic Novel artist. This would be his ‘'new'' Iliad. Thank you, Gareth Hinds.

Many thanks to Candlewick Press and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

‘'I see now that there can be no leaving. I am a broken clock, frozen forever at an impossible hour. Let others move on, if they must, if they can. For myself, I have duties to carry out. Sacrifices to make. Stockings to fill. Warnings to deliver. Lives to touch. Like it or not, I am the Ghost of Christmas Present, and I have a job to do.''

Joanne Harris is a writer I cautiously approach each time I choose to read one of her books. Most of her novels are favourites of mine, like Chocolat and Coastliners and others, like The Gospel of Loki, are really bad moments of my reading life. Not to mention the fact that her personality through social media seems impossibly intimidating. I haven't read Jigs and Reels but this collection screamed my name. Look at the cover and the title, the very icons of tales and winter. These are stories born through loss and sadness, the characters are ghosts and people who have become ghosts of themselves.

River Song: A story about children in Congo that risk their lives by leaping into the rapids of a dangerous river. Their reward? Scraps of bread and chicken bones.

Faith and Hope Fly South: Two marvelous elderly ladies who bring joy and hope to those around them and keep on dreaming of the future.

There's No Such Place as Bedford Falls: A man decides that Christmas should be around us every day of the year. The people of his community do not share his opinion...

Would You Like To Reconnect: A mother keeps in touch with her son through Twitter. Even in the most horrible of circumstances.

Rainy Days and Mondays: What happens when the God of Rain and the Sun Goddess meet in a rainy summer day?

Dryad: An unusual love affair between a woman and a beautiful tree. One of the most beautiful tales in the collection.

Harry Stone and the 24-Hour Church of Elvis: An Elvis Presley impersonator who also happens to be a private investigator. I am not a big fan of Elvis Presley and I was not a fan of this story.

The Ghosts of Christmas Present: The man from Bedford Falls tries to cope with the loss of his most beloved ghost. A tender, sad story full of Christmas melancholy.

Wildlife in Manhattan: Joanne Harris, please leave the Gods of Asgard alone!

Cookie: A woman who has fallen in the abyss of depression creates a baby out of spice and sugar. This haunting, dark story contains two of the most unlikable characters you'll ever meet.

Ghosts In The Machine: Two lonely souls come together through songs played through the small hours of the night. I loved this story. It reminded me of a more serious, bittersweet version of Sleepless In Seattle.

Dee Eye Why: A very particular haunted house story. I cannot say anything more because even the tiniest remark could become a spoiler. I can tell you that it was a showstopper in this collection.

Muse: Inspiration can be found in the most humble of places as long as there is warmth and unity.

The Game: The darkest story. A tale that will have you guessing with a healthy dose of heartbeats and agony. A game whose consequences are irreversible.

Faith and Hope Get Even: Our beloved elderly ladies stand up against a terrible woman and a major bully and show her what it means when your crimes are discovered.

Road Song: The curse of child trafficking in Togo and the hope of a change.

This is a beautiful collection, no doubt about it. However, there were a couple of stories that didn't satisfy me as a reader and seemed out of place. In my opinion, the negative element in this collection is the characters. Some of them are so unlikable and irritating. Having said that, the roots of these stories lie in the human soul and the ghosts that haunt us in all their forms. The hopeful that shows us the way and the terrifying that reminds us of our faults. These are not the most memorable stories I've ever read but they are beautiful examples of the writing of a very interesting writer.

‘'Don't forget your cat and your hat - and, with a long enough piece of string, you'll always be sure to find the way home.''

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

‘'Justice means fairness. Luck of prejudice.''

I've always loved Pendle Hill and the stories of the women who were accused of witchcraft during one of the darkest moments in the history of Europe. The fascinating legends found a perfect home in Jeanette Winterson's The Daylight Gate, a novel full of darkness, raw beauty and folklore. Stacey Hall's The Familiars is not as vicious as Winterson's masterpiece but it is no less poignant, atmospheric and an absolutely beautiful novel, fully doing justice to its dark themes of prejudice, injustice and sheer violence against women. Sadly, these are issues that have not been extinguished in our world. Centuries later we face the same dangers, albeit wrapped in a different, more ‘'civilized'' package.

Pendle Hill and Malkin Tower are in the centre of attention in Fleetwood' household. She is the young wife of a noble house, her mission to produce an heir - a male heir, let us not forget - and things have not been going well. Fleetwood is with child, one more chance to do her ‘'duty''. Her fortune brings her to Alive, an eerie girl who seems to know nature and its gifts as well as an experienced wise woman. Or as well as a witch...The witch hunt is in full swing under the reign of King James and Fleetwood has to face her husband's wrongdoings, her fear for her pregnancy and the injustice against women who know Nature better than anyone.

‘'I wouldn't wish a girl's life on anyone.''

The Familiars are the spirits in objects and animals that act as replicas of the so-called ‘'witches''. This belief lends the name to the title of this beautiful book that seems to be perfect. Indeed, I couldn't find a single feature that would have made me reconsider my rating. The technical elements are brilliantly composed. The era, the dialogue, the atmosphere of terror, of suspicion and prejudice will captivate your heart from the first chapters. This novel is an example of how a writer can create female protagonists that do not resemble any stereotype but are fully imagined and brought to life so realistically that the readers feel as if they're watching actual people of flesh and blood fighting for the right to have a voice. This is why I won't tire you over technicalities. What I feel the need to focus on is the exquisite treatment of the themes that make this novel such a beautiful and frightening experience.

The main theme reflected in the use of the witch-hunt era as the setting is the position of women in a society that seems to take an almost orgasmic satisfaction in supporting every possible prejudice against them. Men practice infidelity because it is their ‘'right''. Women are not even allowed to choose their own midwife. Pregnancy becomes an obligation. Something you must do because society tells you to. And if you don't want children of your own, everyone will look at you at best with apprehension and at worst with disgust. I am using the Present tense intentionally because things haven't changed much. Not as long as the Trumps of the world tell us what to do with our bodies and our own choices. Religion and politics have always lent themselves as culprits of irrational actions, dogmas have long been used as pretexts for absolute control over the fates of women. Take the ridiculous Daemonologie, written by King James, as an example. One of the most incompetent, ludicrous monarchs of Europe that led dozens of women to their death.

There are men encouraged to feel superior by oppressing women because they feared their intelligence and independence. Women bow to an absurd will and condemn other women because they are influenced by uneducated priests and are envious of the women who live their lives according to their rules without needing a man and a surname to sustain them or verify their existence. These issues are still relevant to our world. Many men cannot recognize women's right to equality. Many women still need a man to verify their worth. Flushing out certain parts of our anatomy on Instagram, projecting ourselves as objects does not help. This is not emancipation. It is outright prostitution. Let us not fear the words and speak clearly.

What can be better than a Historical Fiction novel that prompts you to think of how universal and relevant certain issues are, how vital in our daily experience. This novel by Stacey Halls is like a heavy storm that has been brewing for hours. Like the grey sky over Pendle Hill. Like the fragile hope that comes with the arrival of a child in the world...

‘'Do we not have eyes and ears like our husbands, and the men who will condemn them?''

Many thanks to MIRA and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

‘'I hold nothing dear. Not the place where I live, not the door I pass through every day, not even, damn it, my life.''

In the beautiful, mysterious world of colours white retains an exceptional position. White is purity, light, clarity, sanctity, fragility. White is the symbol of the union between two people and the colour of mourning in East Asian culture. In Greece, white is the colour of purity and the sun. The houses in our islands are white-washed to reflect its rays. In China, white is worn in funerals to symbolise gratitude and in Korea, it symbolizes the clarity of the passage to a less troubling world. In Peru, white is associated with good health and prosperity. In the Balkan countries, white is associated with snow, light and the wisdom of the human race. White is the colour of peace seen in the White Flag of truce and ceasefire, the hope for the end of violence in its most terrible form, the war. White is the colour of the angels and the colour of ghosts. In Han Kang's shuttering account, white is despair and hope, pain and winter. It is an elegy for a life taken too soon and a chance that was never granted.

‘'Snow had begun to scatter down. Outside, the alley had darkened, the street lights were not yet on. Paint tin in one hand, brush in the other, I stood unmoving, a dumb witness to the snowflakes' slow descent, like hundreds of feathers feathering down.''

The beauty of the snowflakes, the mystery of the fog. The white of our bones, these God-given miracles that construct our very being, so strong and yet so fragile. The white of a mother's milk, the very essence that keeps us alive when we need it most. The moon with its white light that keeps us company during the long nights when our thoughts keep us awake and our fears acquire substance. When the face of the Man on the moon gazes at us kindly, with sympathy because he knows. The white nights in summer that protect us from the darkness. The secrets of the mysterious colour compose a haunting elegy to a stillborn sister. A symphony written in Warsaw with echoes of Seoul, beautiful cities where winter freezes everything and paints in white and grey, the colours of the ashes...

One of the most haunting, beautiful, raw books that will ever grace our world...

‘'In this city of severe winters, a December night unspools itself around her. The darkness outside the window has no moon to soften it. In the small workshop to the rear of the building, presumably as a security measure, a dozen electric lights are left on all through the night. She looks at the patches of illumination, scattered and isolated amid the black.''

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

‘'For yearsI was afraid to playThe fool.So I built up wallsTen miles high And from this viewI saw that I Had only played myself.''

A beautiful surprise created by a Greek artist that results in a quirky, strange graphic novel, a mixture of poetry and Visual Art. Sketches influenced by Gothic Art, Steampunk, child drawings, and abstract techniques communicate visions of love, loneliness, the search for meaning and fulfillment, the question of an unknown future in an environment that isolates people from their loved ones and from themselves.

Ghosts, Pierrots, anthropomorphic robots, girls on the moon, a geisha walking in a black garden, a poetess with wooden legs, waiting. Sad children, demonic figures and haunted dolls...
All illustrations by Giorgos Halkias.


My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/

Unfortunately, this one was a reading choice that failed to capture my attention...I was attracted by the title and the fact that I've always thought Edna O'Brien's writing would be ideal for me but this was a disaster...

In my opinion, there are many writers who succeeded in bringing the social and political issues in Ireland during the 30s and the 40s through interesting plots, memorable characters, and careful choices. This book only gave me melodramatic situations with a strange focus on sex, crudely done, mundane storylines and there was an utter lack of any kind of characters that would resonate with me. Plus, the absence of direct dialogue didn't really help...

I will give O'Brien another chance by reading ‘‘The Little Red Chairs'' but given the subject matter, my expectations are infinitely lower. I don't think she has the chops to do it justice...

‘'But the Village of Stone- that tiny corner of the sea that, on a map of China, appears as nothing more than a deep blue stain, with no air or shipping routes to link it with anywhere else - still exerts a strange sort of pull on me. Like a recurring dream that appears each and every midnight, or some profound and inescapable homesickness, I somehow find myself remaining loyal to its memory. I think of it at odd and unexpected moments: as I am walking through the city, listening to buses making their slow stops at deserted stations, or evenings after work {..} The memories come unbidden, like the tides of my childhood village, waters surging out of nowhere to inundate us up to our knees.''

Even after so many books, so many characters, so many stories, there comes a novel that has you firmly gripped in a dark, merciless embrace that leaves you breathless and transported to a country where every corner sings of history and legends. And pain. There is immense pain in this book. And immense beauty. This is China.

Coral Jiang lives with her boyfriend, Red, in a 25-storey high-rise in Beijing. One day, an eel finds its way into their flat and Coral's thoughts return to the Village of Stone, the land she left thirteen years ago. It is not a happy reminiscence. Relatively untouched by the Cultural Revolution, this haunting corner of the Earth comes alive through the fragrance of jasmine and the salty air of the dangerous sea. But nothing can diminish the atmosphere of sadness, hopelessness, and pain. A graveyard rules over the lives of the residents. A gravesite is chosen the moment you are born and your tombstone is raised. And it waits. It waits patiently, up there on the top of the hill. It waits because no one ever leaves the Village of Stine. The Village where the Sea Goddess refuses to bless the families, indifferent to the altars that honour her. The Village where the Sea Demon snatches away children playing on the shore. But there is nothing more threatening than a human and Coral knows it well.

‘'The cat upstairs meows all through the night, though the rest of the building is deep in sleep. In the silence, broken only by the cat's wailing, the world seems so deserted, so cold and empty. There is nothing left to cling to in this world, nothing I can hold on to.''

Xiaolu Guo depicts the life in the big city, the noisy metropolis, and the life in the island as equally harsh and demanding. A struggle for the individual to survive with dignity and hope. Beijing is described as a capital that can give you everything and as a city where the sun cannot be seen and the wind cannot be felt because of the monstrous buildings. The feeling of isolation and suffocation is acute. In the island, the typhoons threaten whatever peace may exist. No sun, no dreams but for the ones disrupting Coral's troubled sleep. Any other dreams and aspirations have vanished. Children become old before their time in a society that ages, occupied by old minds and old hearts, in communities that shut the door in everyone's face.

‘'Can you hear me, sea, tides, reefs along the shore, sand crabs crawling on the beach, can you hear what I'm saying to you? I'm begging you to listen, because besides you, there is not a single person in this world I can talk to. There is no one else I can tell my story to, not even my grandmother. All I want is to be with you, just sea and tides, no pain, no death, just you, for ever and ever and ever...''

The gradual revelation of our heroine's past is powerful and excellently depicted. There are many raw, cruel, vicious moments that require a strong mind on the reader's part. The chapter of the fishermen's superstitions and hatred towards a woman from the mountains was heart-wrenching as were the references to abortion. Abuse, psychological isolation, dysfunctional relationships. A deep feeling of hopelessness, as if you drift through a life that holds no thrill, no emotions, a kind of living, breathing death. The humble eel becomes a strange symbol of endurance, continuity and a hesitant hope. Α cast of characters that become your friends or ghosts haunting your dreams. Grandma, Red, Mr. Mou and, naturally, Coral, a wonderful, brave woman that you will come to love.

On a side note, I was happy and proud to find references to the acclaimed Greek film Ulysses' Gaze directed by Theo Angelopoulos.

No, this is not a happy story. Seldom have I found a ‘'happy'' story that was interesting. This one is grim and haunting. Sad and terrifying. Claustrophobic like the high-rises in the big cities of China. Ferocious and screaming like the typhoons. And hopeful like the twenty-five minutes of sunshine falling on the corner of a small balcony somewhere in Beijing. Beautiful in its darkness and despair. It is an outstanding example of Contemporary Chinese Literature. It is a masterpiece.

‘'The enormous high-rise that I had once hated so vehemently now seemed welcome and familiar, like a hated friend, or a beloved enemy. As it receded from view and drew back into the depths of the night, its windows still gave off a faint, warm glow. I wondered about the people living in those rooms behind their tiny windows. Behind which windows were these people still awake, people talking, people waiting for lovers not yet returned?''

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

‘'Scorn the witch. Fear the witch. Burn the witch.''

If we substitute the word ‘'witch'' with the word ‘'woman'', we will be able to understand the reasons and motives behind the terrible witch-hunts that left another bloody mark in History. The complexity of women's psyche, the direct, unbreakable contact, and bonding with Nature, the innate strength to survive, the resilience, the passion, the intelligence. Witches or not, men have always gazed upon women as a possession. If she cannot be ‘'obtained'', if she resists then she has a mind of her own. How dare she? She must be dancing with demons and lying with Satan. Fundamentalism and society have long found a way to justify the wrongs committed by men.

This beautiful collection contains stories of young witches from different eras and nationalities. Focusing on the themes of revenge and injustice, these tales are told through the eyes of young women who try to cope with their gift, their heritage and their feelings in communities that are unable to understand and to accept. Naturally, not every story is a gem and there are some that are too YA influenced for my taste but this is a collection that has a lot to offer to the reader regardless of age or gender.

Starsong by Tehlor Kay Mejia: A teenage astrologer who uses social media to draw charts and chase her demons away. Beautiful writing, interesting debate between science and magic.

Afterbirth by Andrea Cremer: A story of a birth going horribly wrong for a woman who was a midwife and a healer, set during the era of the Witch Trials. One of the finest stories in the collection.

The Heart In Her Hands by Tess Sharpe: A young witch goes against the will of the Elders in order to remain with her true soulmate. I can't say I enjoyed this story. It seemed too naive and copy-pasted from teenage films.

Death In The Sawtooths by Lindsay Smith: In a city echoing New Orleans, in a community of witches and warlocks, a young woman serving the Lady of Death accepts the confessions of the dead in a macabre role of the Last Messenger. This was a story that started exceptionally well but lost focus and quality along the way. Still, it was very atmospheric and memorable if you overlook the naive, mundane, unnecessary use of certain supernatural creatures that seem to be fashionable because of that atrocious ‘'Walking Dead'' (or whatever it's called...) thing.

The Truth About Queenie by Brandy Colbert: Teenage sentimental problems mixed with racial issues may sound interesting to many readers but not to me. Add cliche dialogue and a predictable, cringe-worthy plot and this easily becomes an ugly piece of writing judged by my personal standards.

The Moonapple Menagerie by Shveta Thakrar: Moonlight and Indian culture is a beautiful combination but the dialogue in this one was jarringly irritating.

Τhe Legend of Stone Mary by Robin Talley: A story whose roots go back to the Civil War era. A tale of witches, witch-hunters and a frightening statue. But for the silly love plot, it would have been marvelous.

The One Who Stayed by Nova Ren Suma: This story read like a predictable, ridiculous horror film about cruel teenagers with a little bit of ghost revenge to add another cliche in the mixture. No...

Divine Are The Stars by Zenaida Córdova: A story of family, loyalty, magic, and faith mixed with elements of the Mexican culture. Extremely well-written and atmospheric.

‘'I just want to bite a hole in the world. I wish I could stop smiling at things I hate. Sometimes I wish I never learned.''

Daughters of Baba Yaga by Brenna Yovanoff: A story of a powerful witch-girl of Russian heritage. A haunting setting and one of the finest moments in the collection.
P.S. I adored the references on Nikola Tesla.

‘'The moon is full, and even the stars are scared of me.''

The Well Witch by Kate Hart: ‘'But she would leave a light on like she'd promised. If she had to burn the whole thing down.''
This story is so perfect it deserves its own novel. Elsa is a one-of-a-kind character in a tale of ruthless men during the Reconstruction era. A water witch, love, bravery and Comanche traditions. My favourite story in the collection.

Beware of Girls With Crooked Mouths by Jessica Spotswood: A witch family from Scotland, each girl dedicated to an element. But the daughters don't live long except for one. Only one will survive. The witches go mad. They murder their sisters as the Book commands. And they have obeyed for hundreds of years. Now a young witch has decided they must defy the tradition. A brilliant story possibly set in the Regency era.

‘'As I thought of these things, I caught la Virgen in the corner of my vision. Beneath Her blue veil, She cast her eyes to the church floor. But Her lips held a small smile, as though She will always see the love we carry in our hearts long before we understand it to be there.''

Love Spell by Anna-Marie McLemore: A story rich in Mexican traditions. A tale of a strange love between two seemingly opposing worlds. Beautiful and moving.

The Gherin Girls by Emery Lord: A story of sisterly love, abuse, and isolation set during the fall equinox. The problem is that the writing was so naive, so dull that I just didn't care.

Why They Watch Us Burn by Elizabeth May: An alternative USA where rape victims become outcasts, looked upon as temptresses who provoked ‘'honest'' men. They have to be taken away, otherwise, they will contaminate the ‘'purity'' of the society. Although atmospheric and haunting at parts, I felt that this context has been overused to death and I don't believe that its remarks on religion added anything innovative. A story clearly inspired by Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale and the awful, ridiculously Hollywood-esque TV series that tried (in vain) to bring an excellent book to life. A mediocre story, in my opinion.

It was lovely to read each writer's favourite literary witch and I was excited to see that Morgan Le Fay was the most popular choice.

My two complaints are the occasional teenage writing that echoed TV series, films and possibly books devoid of quality and substance, and the emphasis on sex as a form of emancipation. I don't agree with the ones who view this as an exploration of sexual identity. This isn't how it's done. In my opinion, sex and sexual preferences do not make us rebels or emancipated, feisty and independent. Our personality, intelligence, and intellectuality do that. Sex has nothing to do with who we are as people. However, I definitely appreciated the diversity and honesty of the themes in the stories. I wish certain tales had made better use of such strong elements.

Apart from these issues, this is a collection to be read by all. And if I ever have a daughter, I will definitely include this book in my recommended reading list to her.

‘'My witch is furious and ferocious. She doesn't grant wishes. But if you do what she says and treat her right, she just might help you. In the stories, there's always a catch, though, right? The catch is this - her way of helping is HER way. Sometimes the way she helps you is by raining fire on all your enemies.''

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

‘'But there are no secrets in London. Even the houses lean across the narrow alleys towards each other and offer up their scandals in the blink of an open curtain.''

A woman is trying to break the norms of an oppressive society whose chances are reserved exclusively for men. In an era when silk is considered equal to gold, Esther struggles to convince her husband of her talent as a pattern designer. Her kind nature leads her to Sara, a young woman trapped in a brothel, and to a complex network of deceit and exploitation. Welcome to London during the 18th century.

A stunning cover and a beautiful title. An adventurous era, a very interesting field of research. This is the background of a novel focused on the lives of two young women and the conspiracies of silk. The problem is that sometimes a book needs an interesting cast of characters in order to become something special and memorable. Unfortunately, I couldn't find it here. The atmosphere is excellent and beautifully depicted through balanced writing that is realistic and faithful to the era without becoming modernized or crude. The dialogue is equally satisfying, interesting and believable. The fascinating and sinister world of silk is at the heart of the novel and I believe it should have been explored more thoroughly. Esther's ambitions and talent along with the enterprise of the glorious material should have been given the first role. These should have been our protagonists instead of wasting our time with a character that had no redeeming, or even remotely interesting, qualities...

Esther is based on Anna Maria Garthwaite, the woman who brought painting to the loom, creating unique designs, as the writer informs us. Perfect! Why did we need to read the ‘'adventures'' of a mediocre character? Esther is a complex woman. In my opinion and according to my personal values, Sara is a disgusting figure. Her weird notion that she is somehow entitled to a life with plenty of money and little effort, the fact that she is a complete and utter fool, a treacherous creature who curses her bad luck and turns against the one who helps her did little to make me sympathize with her. As a result, her chapters were a chore. Compared to Esther's complexity and innate elegance, Sara seemed a shadow of a character. I did not care for the closure of her story, it was completely indifferent to me. Moll was even worse...In my opinion, the writer painted the female characters in extremely unfavourable colours by making use of every cliché imaginable... Not that the men were any better. Generally speaking, the characters won't enter any Literary pantheon anytime soon. Rather the opposite and this issue affected my overall impression significantly.

Also, ‘'Elizabeth Swann''? Seriously? I was expecting Jack Sparrow and Will Turner to appear...Which would have been great because these three are awesome. The characters in this novel...not so much...

In my opinion, Historical Fiction is a mighty difficult genre. You need the perfect ingredients to create a novel that will stand out. This book is (mostly) well-written but I don't think it is memorable or unique. Had the characters been better, I would have enjoyed it more. As it is, a 3-star rating is the most I can give.

Many thanks to Quercus and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

“You will ask me who she was-beautiful Xue Tao...For thousands of years and even longer, the trees have been whispering over her stony bed. And the syllables of her name reach to those who listen, with the breath of the leaves; with the trembling of the long-fingered branches; with the flickering of lights and shadows, and the breath -sweet like the presence of a woman- the plethora of wildflowers -Xue Tao.”

Dragons, artists, aristocrats, deities. Ghosts, demons. Beautiful women and brave young men. A tapestry of Chinese ghost stories by Lafcadio Hearn, a writer of Greek and Irish blood, influenced by the Chinese and Japanese culture with a distinctive sensitivity and clarity in his writing. These stories take us to the heart of an early medieval society populated with heroes and women dedicated to Art and Love while spirits stand witnesses to haunting deeds.

The Story of Ming Yi: A young man falls in love with a mysterious widow, a lover of poetry and calligraphy. But Xue Tao hides more than meets the eye...

The Legend of Zhi Nu: A beautiful young woman married a young man who became a slave out of duty to his father. His life changes in unfathomable ways. A story of a goddess walking among mortals, a well-known motif of Asian myths.

The Return of Yan Zhenjing: A story of the Son of Heaven, an incompetent emperor, fire and blood.

The Story of the Porcelain God: A tale of the porcelain mystery and the spirits that protect it. A story dedicated to a product that lies at the heart of China and its glorious culture.

This is a very interesting collection. Don't think it is scary in the sense of an “in-your-face” horror. Hearn creates a poetic, haunting atmosphere worthy of the richness and mystery of beautiful, enchanting China.

Extract translated by me, taken from the Greek edition by Ars Nocturna

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/

‘'...Paris with the snow falling. Paris with the big charcoal braziers outside the cafes, glowing red. At the cafe tables, men huddled, their coat collars turned up, while they finger glasses of grog Americain and the newsboys shout the evening papers. The buses rumble like green juggernauts through the snow that sifts down in the dusk. White house walls rise through the dusky snow. Snow is never more beautiful than in the city. It is wonderful in Paris to stand on a bridge across the Seine looking up through the softly curtaining snow past the grey bulk of the Louvre, up the river spanned by many bridges and bordered by the grey houses of old Paris to where Notre Dame squats in the dusk. It is very beautiful in Paris...at Christmas time.''

One of the perks of celebrating Christmas according to both calendars (because of my partner who has Serbian and Croatian roots, is equally opinionated and raised to follow the Balkan traditions religiously) is that there is always a little more time (and excuses) to read one more Christmas stories collection. This volume contains stories by some of the most important writers, dedicated to the wonder of the Christmas dinner. But is it a happy occasion at all times?

The collection contains some of the most beautiful stories written by Ernest Hemingway and of course I'm referring to Christmas at the Roof of the World. There is also one of my favourite Christmas stories, The Gift of the Magi by O.Henry. Memories of Christmas Past can be found in Washington Irving's musings and Henry James takes us to Paris during 1876. Amalie Skram, one of the most important naturalist writers and a voice of freedom and equality for women, breaks our heart with her Karens Jul. Nathaniel Hawthorne is also present, inviting us to The Christmas Banquet we wouldn't actually want to attend, and Dylan Thomas narrates A Child's Christmas in Wales. Alphonse Daudet introduces us to a strange priest and two miserable vagabonds and Robert Lewis Stevenson takes us on a Christmas adventure. Gilbert Keith Chesterton shows us his adoration for Christmas and Stephen Crane writes about A Christmas Dinner Won In Battle.

This year's collection was spectacular. Here's to an equally exciting 2019.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

‘'Winter in the mountains is arresting in its drama, the light melting over the Brecon Beacons as though it carries cold in it, not heat. There are the lakes of mist, too, the sun riding high over the bracken-red ridges as they surface through pearlescent cloud, heaving up like whales. Winter by the sea is another kind of theatre, like standing in a great and empty auditorium.''

It is very difficult, almost impossible to convey the feelings and thoughts born from reading this book. ‘'Book''? No, this isn't the proper word this time. This is an ode to winter in its most sinister form, in all its wildness, harshness, in its darkest moments. An elegy for lives broken and united, lost and gained, in the heart of the British cold that is beautiful and ferocious, haunting and heartless. These are the musings, the memories of a charismatic man, a talented writer who pours his soul in the pages with bravery and tenderness.

The dangers that threaten people and livestock. The menacing darkness, the isolation. The beautiful scenery painted in white, grey and cobalt blue. The joy of Christmas, the chance for the family to be together during the long nights. A confused, misinformed society that tries to predict the unknown ‘'winter'' brought about by the absurd Brexit. The monsters of depression, the hopelessness, and pain that seem to become more acute once temperatures plummet, Clare shares his fears and insecurities, the love for his family and his students and discovers that winter can be loved and enjoyed even in its most vicious form.

This is not a pleasant read. Quality books are NOT pleasant. It isn't a hymn to the romantic white of winter. It is a cry and a song, an atmospheric, haunting and powerful account of a human being that could have been our father, our partner, our friend. The depiction of how tiny we stand when facing Mother Nature. If you love winter, you will come to love the beautiful and fierce season even more after reading The Light In The Dark. If you don't call winter your favourite season, you might reconsider. This is what Horatio Clare did. His confession will stay with you long after you let your wander in the last paragraph.

No more of my blabbering. The following extracts speak for themselves:

‘'Over the western plain the sky was clear; as we approached Manchester we came under a dark bar of cloud. Now, as we close with the fingers of the moors, the windows of the foothill towns are lighting and there is a peace in the glooming valleys, a drawing - in as the earth turns us and night comes down from the wild tops as if drawn to the warmth of our settlements.''

‘'Now the power cuts. I dash out to see if it is just us - but it is the world, the world transformed, released into darkness, moonlight, stars and frost. It is the first time I have ever seen our valley as it is in itself at night. Under a half-moon, with the hills' bacla princkled with stars, its character has entirely changed. The dark no longer hunches around the few street lights. It is dimly luminous, stretching and languid, the moonlight a soft sweeping, rounding and gentling the ridges. The constriction of the valley is gone, the silvered fields wide under the mantling moon.''

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

‘'On Saturday, the twenty-first of June 1946, as the sun rose high over the Kremlin, a lone figure climbed slowly up the steps from the Moskva River embankment, continued past St.Basil's Cathedral, and made his way onto Red Square. Dressed in a ragged winter coat, he swung his right leg in a small semicircle as he walked. At another time, the combination of the ragged coat and hobbled leg might have made the man stand out on such a bright summer day. But in 1946, there were men limping about in borrowed clothes in every quarter of the capital. For that matter, they were limping about in every city of Europe.''

Moscow, 1920s. It is a grey morning in the capital. It might be late autumn or early winter. The Moskva river stands witness to another day, to another uncertain outcome as it has done for so many centuries. Walk to the centre of the city with quick steps for the wind is freezing on your face. But do not be so hasty when you pass outside the Metropol Hotel, this beautiful building that resisted the violence of the mob a few years ago, in 1917. If you look up, you might see a young man, obviously an aristocrat, standing by the window of his suite, overlooking the glory of a metropolis whose contradictions are as many as its beauties.

Let Count Rostov be your guide to the most tumultuous decades of the country which gave birth to Chekhov and Tolstoy, to Dostoevsky, Pushkin, and Gogol. To Tchaikovsky and Prokofiev. To Akhmatova and Mayakovsky. It would take an entire notebook to include them all. The land that left her eternal seal on architecture, ballet, music and every form of Art. The land that exerts an almost mystical fascination on those of us who love Culture. Russia. The enchantment of two continents, the beauty, the fury, the disillusionment.

‘'According to local lore, hidden deep within the forest was a tree with apples as black as coal - and if you could find this tree and eat of its fruit, you could start your life anew.''

Count Alexander Rostov has been sentenced to house arrest in the Metropol, after one of the infamous ‘'fair'' trials by a Bolshevik tribunal. Because one thing we know about the Bolsheviks is how ‘'just'' and ‘'cultured'' they were...He is deemed too valuable to be killed off or sent to Siberia, therefore he becomes a permanent resident in the luxurious hotel near the Kremlin. As he becomes a member of the staff, putting his aristocratic upbringing to good use, he finds himself the protector of two young girls. He finds love in the face of an alluring, intelligent actress, he meets members of the Party who retain their own agenda and tries to avoid being plagued by memories of his past. Through his eyes, we witness the course of a nation that faces the consequences of questionable choices and actions. Oppression, hunger, and isolation. And we, the readers, embark on an exciting journey in one of the most beautiful novels of our times.

Towles writes with beauty, elegance, and pinache. While the setting and the period are familiar to most of us and the circumstances that led to one of the darkest eras in European History well-known, through clarity, beautiful prose and an elegant sense of humor and sarcasm, Towles creates a story that is rich and successful in depicting the nightmare of the Soviet era through the eyes of a man who is unable to walk the streets of the capital for decades. Alexander's life before the Bolsheviks' evil eyes turn on him is revealed gradually, layer after layer, guest by guest, conversation by conversation and Rostov's course becomes the course of Russia over the long years.

‘'And suddenly it struck me that walking the length of Nevsky Prospekt was like walking the length of Russian Literature. Right there at the beginning - just off the avenue of the Moika embankment- is the house where Pushkin ended his years. A few paces on are the rooms where Gogol began Dead Souls. Then the National Library, where Tolstoy scoured the archives. And here, behind the cemetery walls, lies brother Fyodor, our restless witness of the human soul entombed beneath the cherry trees.''

Towles pays homage to the greatness of Russian culture in every chapter, in every page. The plethora of great writers, the references to Mussorgsky and Rimsky-Korsakov, the Russian contribution in the advancement of the motion picture, the philosophy and the particular psychosynthesis of the Russian Artist. The sceneries of Moscow, St.Petersburg and Nizhny Novgorod. It is impossible to pinpoint the fascinating elements that make A Gentleman In Moscow such a unique experience.

‘'And I will be sure to say please and thank you whenever I ask for things. But I have no intention of thanking people for things I never asked for in the first place.''

Alexander, Anna, Nina, Sophia, Andrey, Marina...Characters that deserves their very own novel. It is rare, so rare for a writer to create a cast where everyone is vital to the story, where everyone's fate creates anticipation and wonder, in a novel whose main character is imprisoned in a golden cage.

Towles succeeded in creating a perfect story with an outstanding cast of characters and beautiful dialogue. He created a novel reminiscent of the classics of the past. He created a modern classic, a masterpiece.

‘'I have lived under the impression that a man's purpose is known only to God.''

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

‘'They never went hungry, but there was no electricity, and she remembered the long, dark evenings in the apartment, the afternoons when there was so little to do that she was reduced to padding at the hours with daydreams.''

In a beautiful evening in New York, an aspiring young writer from Denmark meets Ana. She is as enigmatic and fascinating as her homeland, Romania. An artist, offspring of two mathematicians, she claims that she can travel in time. Ana begins to narrate her story to our young Dane, a story of a life experienced in a country under the terrible dictatorship of Nicolae Ceauşescu, a life in the shadows of her gifted but self-destructive parents. Rosengaard's novel is a unique blend of Historical and Literary Fiction, Philosophy and Mystery, a fine mixture of the best elements of Scandinavian Literature with a Balkan touch. I can't think of a better combination.

‘'For several minutes we stood in the platform and gazed across at the island, at the skyscrapers and the spaces between them, the sunlight transitioning slowly into the glare of many thousands of lamps. It never really got dark, but for a moment the two lights met, the natural and the artificial, and the city and sky dissolved together.''

Going back and forth in time, focusing on Ana's story, Rosengaard takes us on a journey to Romania under the rule of a monster. The absolute control of the regime has bound the nation with deadly chains. Education, culture, science, every human value has disappeared for anyone who isn't a member of the Party. We witness the open wounds across Romania through the eyes of Maria and Ciprian, two characters whose talent and intelligence mean nothing. Their only worth is the way the regime can use them to its benefit. Rosengaard also takes us to Morocco during the early 80s, in a society so different than Romania's and yet equally oppressed. And then we have New York, the city where everyone can find everything. A crucible of people, cultures, beliefs. A scenery where hopes and aspiration take flight. In the heart of the bright metropolis, two people try to reconcile the past with the present and find a way to move to the future.

Rosengaard's writing is beautiful. The descriptions of historical Romanian cities such as Cluj and Constanța. Morocco's capital, Rabat and, naturally, New York are poetic and vivid. The urban environment and the Romanian countryside, the lofts and the small apartments, the universities and the art galleries. The dialogue is well-written and realistic, the sense of time and place masterfully depicted. I could do without the occasional unnecessary focus on sex but that is a personal opinion. The characters are well-constructed, our narrator's voice is sensitive and insecure in a very sympathetic manner but inevitably, the spotlight falls on Ana and her parents, Maria and Ciprian. All three are powerful, imposing personalities, serving their ideals, trying to fulfill their ambitions, surpassing the difficulties. However, this is so difficult when you are the Stranger, the one who doesn't fit. Or the one who refuses to obey...

And what about time? The moments missed and the moments experienced once again? What about traveling in the past? Well, you'll have to draw your own conclusions by reading the novel...

A marvelous book that will satisfy readers across genres. If you find it a little slow, don't give up. Persist and you will be rewarded.

‘'But here one must remember that this was the People's Republic of Romania. Ceauşescustan, a land where anyone could end up in a labor camp, where the president had just returned from a starving North Korea and announced that he felt inspired.''

Many thanks to Custom House and Edelweiss for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

“I was born with the Devil in me'', he wrote. “I could not help the fact that I was a murderer, no more than the poet can help the inspiration to sing. I was born with the ‘'Evil One'' standing as my sponsor beside the bed where I was ushered into the world, and he has been with me since.''

Such a promising start, is it not? The words of a monster in human form, such a chilling quote... Having enjoyed Mahnke's first book in The World of Lore series, I was looking forward to reading the 2nd volume. The subject is fascinating. Human beings so vile and evil that seem to wander between the very edges of the human nature and the satanic impulses we all hide inside. The problem is that I found this effort to be an absolute mess. Wicked or not, the stories of the people included were reduced to an opportunity for a confused, illogical moral lecture and I was not amused.

The structure throughout the book follows a combination of the short story form and the biographical style which is fine when the writer has the chops to make it work. This wasn't a problem here, Mahnke is - technically- a good writer. However, during the second half, he changes direction and writes mainly about people who were wrongly accused by the wicked mob. It didn't bother me, I can understand the writer's logic in doing that. What disturbed my personal principles as a reader was his attitude towards the readers and the world culture in general.

I can see that he has done his History homework but this is not that difficult. Most of the facts he presents can be found in any old (and new) Wikipedia article. While this is hardly an encyclopedia -and I must stress the fact that I haven't listened to his podcast, nor I intend to- I could do without Mahnke's remarks that were an irritating mixture of sarcasm, ill-researched attitude, and dogmatic lecture. By all means, share your opinion, I want to read it but do it in a polite, educated and considerate manner. The part which first made me think that he might have dropped the ball altogether was the chapter dedicated to the famous (or infamous) Erzsébet Báthory. We all know the stories attached to her name and we all that in the end no concrete proof was provided. While Mahnke condemns patriarchy and misogyny in other parts of his book, here he commits the crimes he speaks against. The odds learn towards Báthory's demonization because of her status as a woman in power, challenging the men's ideas of superiority. The majority of modern historians supports this attitude. While Mahnke claims there are no witches (more on that later), he is all too eager to accept Erzsébet's companion as an ‘'evil witch''. This is not the proper attitude for a writer, at least according to my personal standards. His certainty made him look inadequate as a researcher. IF he is a researcher...

I've always believed that there are people who share a special connection to nature, graced with powers unusual to the rest of us. Call them ‘'witches'' or ‘'healers'' or anything you like but I do believe in them. This is my personal opinion. Mahnke fell in the trap of forgetting to use the golden expression ‘'In my opinion''. Many people in Goodreads do the same, unfortunately. Really, it isn't so difficult. Mahnke's attitude towards witchcraft and the supernatural in general seems highly dogmatic and patronizing, leaving no room for doubt, a trait that was not evident in the 1st book of the series. Furthermore, his views on Folklore and what he deems as ‘'superstitions of the uneducated crowd'' are sickeningly rude. If you don't approve of Folklore and traditions, if you feel the need to be sarcastic about it, why decide to create a series on the subject in the first place?

In addition, I wasn't fond of his tendency to use ‘'humorous'' expression when referring to serious, morbid events. There is a time and place for black humour and this is not it, in my opinion. Respect is the golden word. I didn't find it here. Too much American slang and pseudo-conversational style mixed with semi-philosophical remarks isn't what I'd call ‘'good writing''. I am sorry, dear writer, I don't read your books to be convinced of the stupidity of the human nature and the naivety of our ancestors who developed Folklore. Nor am I persuaded to believe that everyone is gullible except yourself and your enlightened mind. I read your books to learn and appreciate your views on a certain subject without the need for smart ass comments. Try and contemplate the fact that if it weren't for Lore and tradition, you'd have no subject to write about.

‘'It was just as true then as it is today.''

And who are you, dear writer, to tell us what is true and what is not? Mahnke's interpretation of historical events seemed naive, frankly. In my opinion, one cannot look into bygone eras under a modern light. This is a major rule for anyone dealing with History and the writer probably forgot it. In any case, I will read the 3rd book in the series, even if this one was an ordeal. I will try to finish Dreadful Places just to see whether his views on Folklore are firmly negative or if he just doesn't like human beings. Wicked Mortals was, in my opinion, terribly disappointing.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

‘'One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six.''

One more short stories collection that kept me company this beautiful Christmas, an absolute beauty. Seven stories set on the most beautiful time of the year written by seven of the most important writers that have ever graced our culture. A lot of adjectives in the superlative degree, I know, but this is a collection that deserves to be read by the ones who love quality Literature. Stories that are sad, mysterious, funny, nostalgic, haunting, bitter, sacred...

The Last Dream of the Old Oakby Hans Christian Andersen: A beautiful, sad story of the right to dream and hope, of stormy nights and a life that has seen too much...

The Christmas Banquetby Nathaniel Hawthorne: One of the most haunting, exciting stories by the great master of the Gothic. Would you attend a dinner where the guests would be the saddest people in the world?

The Heavenly Christmas Treeby Fyodor Dostoevsky: A typically Russian, haunting story of bitterness, cold and hope by the greatest author of all time.

The Cheery Soulby Elizabeth Bowen: A jewel! At turns mysterious, hilarious, creepy but always atmospheric with a supreme ending that will have you puzzled as Hell. Brilliant!

A Child's Christmas In Walesby Dylan Thomas: A great poet with a natural sensitivity and beauty, this story is included in its entirety in the collection. Nostalgia and the innocence of childhood, a journey to an era that is now lost...

The Christmas StoryVladimir Nabokovby : Politics, propaganda and misery never stop when you're dealing with tyrants. One of Nabokov's finest moment in a satirical albeit poignant condemnation of the Soviet nightmare.

Christmas Carolsby John Updike: The only dud in the collection, a story focused on sex with an absurd dose of misogyny. It is clear that Updike and I aren't compatible...

‘‘'Soon the Son will be taken to slaughter by His own Father. And I assure you that this time no angel shall prevent His Hand. From now on, everywhere, to the smallest island of the Earth and every hour of the day until the end of time, the blood of the Son will grace the altars for the salvation of man. The ass and the ox do well to warm this newborn sleeping in the cot, for He is truly a Lamb, and He shall be the only Lamb to the slaughter, the Lamb of God, and He alone will be sacrificed for all the centuries to come.''
(Translated by me from the Greek edition)

The Ass and the Oxby Michel Tournier: The story of the Nativity through the eyes of the donkey that carried the Virgin Mary to Bethlehem and the touching presence of the Archangel Gabriel. A moving, solemn story full of beauty and hope.

Although this is an anthology published by a Greek publishing house and written in Greek, you will be able to find the short stories easily. Please, do so. They are full of the true spirit of Christmas in its most human and real form.

‘‘'Looking through my bedroom window, out into the moonlight and unending smoke-coloured snow, I could see the lights in the windows of all the other houses on our hill and hear the music rising from them up the long, steadily falling night. I turned the gas down, I got into bed. I said some words to the close and holy darkness, and then I slept.''

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

Υπέροχη δουλειά από τις εκδόσεις ‘'Ερατώ''.

Υ.Γ. Αναφερόμενη στις ανεκδιήγητες βαθμολογίες της σελίδας και παραβαίνοντας τον προσωπικό μου κανόνα να μη σχολιάζω τις κριτικές άλλων, θα ήταν καλό ορισμένοι να καταλάβουν οτι το ‘'Χριστουγεννιάτικο πνεύμα'' δεν είναι μόνο λαμπιόνια, γλυκά, μπουζούκια και ηλιθια τηλεοπτικά σόου στο Σκαι ή όπου αλλού υπάρχουν...Και η ασχετοσύνη έχει τα όρια της...

‘'Yesterday she saved your life, slew a wicked magician, set fire to Moscow and then saved it all in a single night. Do you think she will consent to disappear, for the price of a dowry- for any price? Do you know my sister?''

It is seldom that the third book of a trilogy ends up being the finest. However, this is exactly what happened with The Winter of the Witch. The final installment of a saga created with absolute beauty and dark grace by Katherine Arden is one to remember and cherish, in a trilogy that defied all genres and labels, making its way to be a classic. I firmly believe that The Winternight Trilogy will keep company to generations of readers who will fall in love with the wealth of the Russian culture, the myths, the legends, the traditions.

‘'But she saw the devils, despite the dark. There were silhouetted atop roofs and walls: domoviye and dvorovije and banniki, the faint house-spirits of Moscow. They were there, but what could they do but watch? Chyerti are formed by the currants of human life; they ride them, but they do not interfere.''

Three things are the ones that make the trilogy perfect: a supreme heroine, the exquisite descriptions of the Russian landscape and the theme of the never-ending battle between the old world and the new, the pagan beliefs and the Christian religion. All these elements are done to perfection in the 3rd book. As Vasya fights for survival, justice and balance, she undertakes a long journey to a harsh, mystical haunting realm. Arden's writing is extraordinarily beautiful as we are wondering in the land of Midnight or the scorching Moscow summer. The scenery changes and changes and along with it Vasya is transformed. The glorious city, the realms of magic, everything is a part of a greater world and everything is a link in a chain that must not break because a dangerous foe is approaching, a horde that doesn't care for the old and the new, desiring to establish its own dynasty.

Arden gives us princesses and princes, knights and priests. Wise women, artists, animals touched by magic. Demons and spirits of nature. The entire Russian folklore lives in the pages of the book and it never looked more beautiful, more mystical, more threatening. Marya Morevna, the Baba Yaga, the Firebird and the chyerti, the domovoi and the upyr in a particularly powerful, shocking chapter. Polunochnitsa and her dark domain, the Midday demon, the horses of legends, the women graced (or cursed) with the Sight. These are the pawns of the fight between the living and what they can't see, the world they can't believe in. The division that feeds their need to destroy what they fear because they are unable to understand.

‘'I am a witch'', said Vasya. Blood was running down her hand now, spoiling her grip. ‘'I have plucked snowdrops at Midwinter, died at my own choosing, and wept for a nightingale. Now I am beyond prophecy.'' She caught his knife on the crosspiece of hers, hilt to hilt. ‘'I have crossed three times nine realms to find you, my lord. And I find you at play, forgetful.''

I cannot begin to tell you how much I adore the relationship between Vasya and Morozov and here their dynamic is more electrifying than ever. Is it strange and dark and possibly twisted? Well, it may be and this is exactly what makes me love them so much. They are my favourite literary couple, after Heathcliff and Catherine, and yes, I know I am weird. Vasya continues to remain one of my favourite female protagonists, not only because of her bravery and determination but mostly because Arden chose to make her as real as she could given the premise of the story. She doesn't refrain from fear and insecurity and despair or even one or two questionable decisions and this is how you create a believable, relatable main character in a fantasy setting. Strange as it may sound, though, the character I was always anxious to meet in a chapter was Konstantin. He is desperate and lost and all sorts of confused and you cannot help but be hypnotized by his presence. His chemistry with Vasya is explosive.

So, I am sad to leave the Winternight universe. A trilogy created through haunting sceneries, an exceptional cast of characters, impeccable dialogue and endless respect to the immortal heritage of the Russian tradition, Katherine Arden, thank you for three marvelous journeys.

‘'Men fear what they do not understand'', murmured the Bear. ‘'They hurt you. They beat you, spat on you, put you in the fire. Men will suck all the wilderness out of the world, until there is no place for a witch0girl to hide. They will burn you and your kind.''

Many thanks to Penguin Random House UK and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

‘'If this were the last thing you ever saw, would you be happy?''

Kathleen, a young woman who lives with her ailing grandmother, has buried herself in a town hidden in the beautiful wilderness of Pennsylvania. In a community that seems unable to understand or even to think properly, Kathleen tries to remain unnoticed and silent, burdened with a cruel past. Things take a different turn when a stranger arrives from Uzbekistan, carrying his own demons along the way. With a harsh winter as the background, this story had so much potential but unfortunately, I found it to be inconsistent and flat.

The winter setting is brilliantly depicted and the wilderness reflects the main themes of the story, secrets, threat and moral ambiguity. I appreciated the writer's effort to centre a story around morality and doubts, the fact that right and wrong isn't written in stone. This is amply demonstrated in an intriguing discussion between Kathleen and Daniil on Raskolnikov's character in Dostoevsky's masterpiece Crime and Punishment, the epitome of the ambiguous, divisive character. However, this is exactly where I felt that the writer bit more than she could chew.

‘'Sometimes people become things they didn't expect to become.''

I've been struggling to put this mildly but I'm afraid I can't. The writer's comments through Kathleen came across as mighty stupid. At least, by my standards. I mean, ‘'Unlucky German and Japanese officers...'' Unlucky? Really? How about the millions of ‘unlucky' people who were starved, captured, killed in the most horrible way imaginable, in infernos and stables of human souls during the Second World War? Am I supposed to feel bad about the Nazis? About monsters? Am I supposed to follow the logic of ‘'they were just obeying orders''? Well, no, I won't. Ever. Either the writer wants us to believe that Kathleen is more stupid that she sounds or St.Vincent herself is in some serious need a) of help, b) of a serious History lesson and c) of a writing workshop. Furthermore, the attempt to juxtapose Daniil's story with the actions of the Nazis is naive, in my opinion.

Daniil is an intriguing character. His philosophy and decisions reflect a complex individual, a character that may not be likable or trustworthy but one whose story you care about. Kathleen, on the other hand, seems boring in comparison, at least during the first half of the book. The fact that she has secrets is evident and it didn't make me more interested in her story. This comes down to the writing quality which isn't exactly award-winning, in my opinion. The dialogue is average, at best. Especially Kathleen's parts are occasionally cringe-worthy. Too many ‘'I guess'', ‘'it's okay'', ‘'kind of'', ‘'I suppose'' and so on and so forth. Daniil's dialogue is infinitely better, probably reflecting his cultural and academic background. And don't get me started on the secondary characters because they were an ordeal...In my opinion, the conclusion of the story was predictable and rather disappointing. Hollywood-bad...

So, a novel that lacks balance and writing quality. This is my overall impression upon finishing it. There were brief moments of beauty in the descriptive parts and an extremely interesting male protagonist but Kathleen and her melodramatic, repetitive story along with her absurd choices made this an indifferent read. And obviously, the problematization that I should feel pity for war criminals isn't one to resonate with me...

Many thanks to Melville House and Edelweiss for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

‘'Now I talk but you don't believe me.''

My mother and I have a Christmas tradition that we try to follow religiously every year. Both being avid lovers of ballet, we have associated Christmas with this beautiful form of Art. Usually, it's The Nutcracker or The Swan Lake, both haunting fairy tales that have accompanied generations. Therefore, I was a little scared to start reading Odette, a modern retelling of ...The Swan Lake. I am always apprehensive (even dismissive) with retellings because the standards are high and the fear that everything will end in a glorious mess is always present. I am happy to say that with Odette I wasn't disappointed in the slightest.

A terrible storm named Odile hits East Anglia, causing a beautiful swan to lose its way and land on a windowsill in an imaginary town, gorgeously named Cygnford. It is Christmas and Mitzi has to care for the unfortunate bird, only to discover that the beautiful creature is actually Odette, a Russian princess that has fallen victim to the evil Baron's spell. I am sure you know the rest. The two young women have to fight their way through a society that struggles to find its steps amidst the Brexit chaos and the growing feeling supported by a minority that strangers must remain strangers.

If you are familiar with this classic tale (which I am sure is the case), you will be able to recognize all the little details inserted throughout the course of the story. If you happen to know very little about The Swan Lake, fear not because this novel will definitely prompt you to read more on this fascinating, traditional tale. Jessica Duchen pays homage to the original source through references to Tchaikovsky's masterpiece when you least expect it and I found this to be a brilliant choice. She weaves Siberia and the Lake Baikal in the narration, bringing the magnificent Russian landscape to life in all its glory, mystery and decadence. The magic of classical music with extensive references to Franz Liszt, one of my favourite composers.

In my opinion, the element that makes this retelling successful, relatable and memorable is the way the writer chose to bring contemporary themes into focus by emphasizing the importance of fairy tales. She refers to Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, The Tempest and A Midsummer Night's Dream whose common themes include the isolation of the Stranger, the Other based on preconceived, unfounded notions and prejudice, and the fluidity of gender. She comments on racism connected to immigration in a rather divided society with heavily polarized opinions. Subtle yet powerful attention turns to Brexit and the insecurity that hunts a country's steps when people are fascinated by a bunch of populists (something we can all relate to regardless of our country of origin...) allowing them to convince us through lies and evil fairy tales. In this aspect, fairy tales are essential to every culture, to the development of the young ones and the current fascination with them is a combination of escapism and searching for meaning and hope in a rather bleak, disheartening environment.

In literary terms, the writing is extremely engaging, confident and poetic. The dialogue is satisfying, with Odette's parts being skillfully complex, but where Duchen really excels is in descriptions. Both Odette's memories of her beautiful, mystical homeland and the haunting images of nightly Cygnford during a particularly harsh winter create a perfectly crafted atmosphere. Mitzi is a very sympathetic, bookish, level-headed and interesting character. It is easy to care for her fight to do what is right and overcome a serious disappointment. Odette is less complex, being a fairytale character after all, but you will love her innocence and will to see the good in everyone, even though it makes her look naive and vulnerable. The male characters are nothing to write home about but they are crucial to the story and as such they do their work well.

Were certain parts of the story predictable? Well, yes, obviously. We're talking about a classic tale and a ballet that is (supposedly) familiar to most of us. It is natural to expect and predict but it shouldn't matter when the writing has the power to make you care and eagerly anticipate what's coming next. At least, this is what I felt while I was reading Odette. So, there you have it. In my opinion, this is one of the finest retellings I've recently read and a very promising start for the new reading year.

P.S. Princes and romance are old-fashioned and overrated.
P.P.S Friendship rules the world.

Many thanks to Unbound, the PigeonholeHQ and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com

The English review is lurking below....

‘'”Πλησίαζαν οι μεγάλες μέρες” - είναι η φράση με την οποία αρχίζει συχνά μια αφήγηση ή ένα διήγημα για τα Χριστούγεννα. [..] Για τους ενήλικες αυτές οι μέρες είναι πράγματι “μεγάλες”. Δεν είναι πάντα μέρες γλεντιού και ξεγνοιασιάς, συχνά είναι μέρες απολογισμού, ακόμα και αποδοκιμασίας, όταν σε βαραίνουν ιδιαίτερα όσα έχεις κάνει και ακόμα περισσότερο όσα έπρεπε, αλλά δεν μπόρεσες, ή δεν τόλμησες, ή αρνήθηκες να κάνεις. Τους μοναχικούς βαραίνει ακόμα περισσότερο η μοναξιά, τους προδομένους η προδοσία, τους λησμονημένους η λήθη.''

΄Αντον Τσέχοφ, Νικολάι Λεσκόφ, Βλαντιμίρ Κορολένκο, Αλεξάντρ Κουπρίν, Ιβάν Μπούνιν, Αρκάντι Αβερτσένκο, Βλάντιμιρ Ναμπόκοφ.

26 Χριστουγεννιάτικες ιστορίες από επτά μεγάλους Ρώσους συγγραφείς για τις ‘'μεγάλες, άγιες'' μέρες οι οποίες, δυστυχώς, δεν είναι ‘'μεγάλες'' για όλους. Νεαρές αριστοκράτισσες προσπαθούν να βοηθήσουν εκείνους που έχουν ανάγκη, ονειροπολώντας μέσα στη μοναξιά τους. Πλούσιοι γαιοκτήμονες αρνούνται την πρόσβαση στους εορτασμούς στους εργάτες που μοιάζουν υπηρέτες. Αδίστακτοι αστυνομικοί εκτελούν το αμφίβολο καθήκον τους με τυφλή, ωμή βία με ένα ολόκληρο χωριό ως θύμα τους. Αγρότες πιστοί σε μια φύση τόσο σκληρή όσο κι όμορφη. Παιδιά που προσπαθούν να στηρίξουν τις οικογένειες τους καθώς το φως από τις πλούσιες επαύλεις δεν μπορεί να φτάσει τα φτωχικά τους σπίτια. Γιατροί που πολεμούν για τη σωτηρία, καλλιτέχνες που βιώνουν πόνο για να δημιουργήσουν τέχνη, μια κοινωνία γοητευμένη από τον πνευματισμό επειδή η επίγεια ζωή είναι πολύ βαρετή κι άσχημη. Χαρακτήρες οικείοι, ζωντανοί. Άνθρωποι καλοί και κακοί ζούν στην καρδιά του χειμώνα. Στη Ρώσικη στέπα ή στις μεγαλοπρεπείς πόλεις όπως η Μόσχα κι η Αγία Πετρούπολη, περιπλανώμενοι σε μια στοιχειωμένη χώρα, τόσο γεμάτη από ομορφιά, τόσο γεμάτη από αστάθεια και κοινωνική ανισότητα, τόσο κοντά στο ξέσπασμα του πολέμου.

Όχι, αυτές δεν είναι χαρούμενες (στο μεγαλύτερο μέρος τους) Χριστουγεννιάτικες ιστορίες αλλά είναι όμορφες, σκοτεινές και τόσο αληθινές...

‘'Τι εξαίσια νύχτα κι αυτή'', μίλησε αίφνης ο άγνωστος. ‘'Παγωμένη..ήσυχη. Τι καταπληκτικός που είναι ο ρωσικός χειμώνας!''

______________________
All quotes translated by me, taken from the Greek original.

''The great days were approaching.''- this is how a narration or a story about Christmas often starts. [...] For the adults these days are indeed ‘‘great''. But they are not always days for being festive and carefree. They are often days of reminiscing, even condemning yourself when everything you have done weighs on your shoulders, and even more so when you remember all those things you should have done, but you were unable or hesitant or dismissive to do. The lonely ones are burdened by loneliness; the betrayed by betrayal, the forgotten by oblivion.''

Anton Chekhov, Nikolai Leskov, Vladimir Korolenko, Aleksandr Kuprin, Ivan Bunin, Arkady Averchenko, Vladimir Nabokov.

26 short stories about Christmas from seven great Russian writers for the ‘‘great, holy'' days that are sadly not so ‘‘great'' for everyone. Young women of the aristocracy who try to help others, daydreaming in their loneliness. Rich landowners that refuse access to festivities to their workers who are treated like servants. Ruthless police officers that carry out their dubious task through blind, raw violence with an entire village as their victim. Farmers loyal to a nature that is as harsh as it is beautiful. Children who try to support their family because the lights of the wealthy estates cannot reach their poor huts. Doctors who fight for survival, artists who experience pain to create art, a society fascinated with spiritualism because their earthly life is too mundane and ugly. Characters that are familiar, lively. Human beings that are good and evil living their lives in the heart of winter. In the Russian steppe or the glorious cities like Moscow and St. Petersburg, wandering in the haunting country, so full of beauty, so full of instability and social inequality, so close to the brink of war.

No, these are not happy (for the most part) Christmas stories but they are beautiful, haunting and all too real...

''What a splendid night'', said the stranger. ‘‘Cold...quiet. How marvelous this Russian winter!'‘