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Leading Greek poet and academic Kiki Dimoula, shortly before the release of her new collection of poetry entitled *Anotelia*, spoke with journalist Manolis Pimblis.  Read below the very interesting interview published on Saturday 22 October in the newspaper Ta Nea, in the ‘Vibliodromio’ supplement: Let’s start with the title: ‘Ano Telia’. Why did you choose it? I didn’t choose it; it was imposed on me. Perhaps he was encouraged by the fact that in the poem entitled ‘The Polytonic’ I praise the importance of accents and punctuation. If you now ask me why a semicolon and not a full stop, I would say that I avoided it because it would have been like filing a registry document. Melodrama, in other words. Most likely, however, I was drawn to the word: Up. It drew me upwards, as if to pull me away from the predator: ‘Down’. In the poem ‘On the Train’, you speak tenderly of disused stations and of the ‘irreverent speed’ with which the countryside is traversed. At the same time, you state that you are returning, without saying clearly where. Does the modern person even have the choice not to board the high-speed train? And where, after all, is this train going? It matters where this train comes from and where it is going. My intention, however, was to emphasise that the past is constantly on the move, through its own abolition, with the present and the future as its only daring passengers. I single out your phrases and words: ‘the sickness of sorrow’, ‘melancholy’, ‘times of weeping’. At the same time, you say that we cling to life out of fear. Is the fear of death stronger than any sorrow? And yet, is it not stronger than any joy? So is this the explanation for sacrifice? In my opinion, or rather according to my own fearful psychology, the main cause of all sorrow and of the – most often – unwarranted melancholy is the innate fear of death. It is so pervasive that I suspect creation and creativity are motivated by the avoidance or postponement of death. I would add that, at least for me, I have never known any great joy that did not tremble at the very thought of its own death from the very outset. Indeed, I suspect that these very beautiful and enthusiastic feelings are aware of the limits of their own existence; perhaps that is why they are so spasmodic and unstable. And if that is true, then it is a great act of bravery on their part that they agree to be born and willingly sacrifice themselves in order to toughen up our pampered psyche. You say somewhere: ‘Memory again, oblivion again. I use the same words over and over’. And in your very fine poem ‘The Genuine’, about unhealed wounds, you say ‘superficially you forget’. Is there a way to overcome traumatic memory? I think there is only one way, and it is utterly humiliating. Dementia. But then again, how do I know if dementia isn’t simply a secretive memory, and that the only thing it trusts to safeguard its experiences is oblivion? In the field of history, there has been much talk of memory in recent years. In other words, we are often more interested in what we remember happened than in what actually happened. Do we construct our own traumas? To remember mostly means forcing something that no longer happens to pretend it is happening, with the aid, of course, of nostalgia, which is the most painful of pleasures. But we want it. It is the raw material with which we unwittingly create new wounds, as if our torment were drawing from them antibodies to protect its endurance.You speak subversively of experience, declaring that one must not trust it, but also of omniscience, which will always be humiliated by the Unknown and must ‘tear its reputation to shreds’. What place do knowledge and youthful vigour hold for you in life?I try to be the peacemaker in the unceasing war between knowledge and youthful vigour. But I don’t succeed. And I always find myself in the camp of youthful vigour, as a volunteer to soothe its wounds.You describe the beautiful side of life in two words: dreams and love (in that order). Do you perhaps mean that love is a subcategory of dreams? And that the only reality, therefore, is the one we do not live? Not exactly. Rather, dreams are a subcategory of love. And yes, the only enchanting, generous, desirable reality is the one we do not live. And from the way you put it, I gather that you are, among other things, a poet.Greece, a crossroads, as they say, between East and West, chose politically, with strong logical arguments, the famous ‘we belong to the West’. Do you believe its soul is there too? I simply suspect it comes and goes.What feelings does today’s Europe evoke in you? A sense of security, trust, or, conversely, anxiety and fear? A threat and, at the same time, a reassuring dream. One of the issues causing its foundations to creak is the refugee crisis. How do you process within yourself this reality of the Aegean, filled with refugees, which Greece has recently experienced and is still experiencing? The issue is so tragic that, alas, if grand words and feelings of compassion were to be uttered, it would be a disaster. I am unable to justify such persecution that transcends the human, however much Greece has found itself in a similarly painful situation in the past. In other centuries, poetry held the primacy of expression – and theatre, of course. Today, it seems to be prose. How do you interpret this, and how do you feel about your place in the world of literature?Perhaps prose gives language more scope to expand than poetry, where writing is confined to certain rules, however much they have become more flexible for the sake of modern times, facilitating or misleading the result. As for me ― I answer honestly ― I am so insecure that I do not envisage any ‘position’ in the literary world, however much I might desire it as the mortal being that I am.The generation of the 1930s, which produced two Nobel laureates, has taken on mythical proportions in the collective subconscious; do you think its mythology will stand the test of time?I do not know if time will have the superiority to preserve the Nobel’s rightful prestige, which time itself should have been the first to receive for its unceasing creativity in working miracles.And while we’re on the subject of the Nobel Prizes: what did you make of this year’s award to Bob Dylan? It took me by surprise. But I don’t wish to comment on it further. Do you feel you have drawn on certain poetic sources more than others? Is there a line of poetic excellence and substance from the past that you believe can be traced in your poetry? Which older poets do you feel a kinship with? To have the audacity to feel a kinship with certain poets, I would need to know whether they, too, recognise me as their sister. But are values really so closely related? Do similarities benefit art? As for influences, yes, they inevitably exist, but they act and exert their influence when individual temperaments grow dark and feel alone and helpless.

The graphic novel ‘Democracy’, by Alekos Papadatos, Avraam Kawa and Annie Di Donna, has been selected for inclusion in the 2016 White Ravens international list, in the international children’s and young adult books category! The committee’s statement reads as follows: ‘This suspenseful, innovative graphic novel offers a historical and literary review of the difficult journey of democracy from its birth in Ancient Greece, through the eyes of Leander, an Athenian unknown at the time. The deeply human characters operate within a dense plot brimming with references to the present day. The interplay between text and images captivates the reader. The thorough research undertaken for the book, as well as its rich vocabulary, provide valuable support as the reader explores the historical events. ‘This prestigious award is presented annually by the International Youth Library in Munich, the largest and most important children’s library in the world, to books that deserve international attention due to the global themes they address or their exceptional and pioneering visual and literary approach.The books are selected each year by experts in the field of children’s literature—library staff as well as external consultants—who read the books in the exhibition in their original language of publication.This year, the White Ravens catalogue includes 200 book titles, in 42 languages, from 60 countries. From 18 October 2016, the 200 reviews of the books included in this year’s catalogue are available on the International Youth Library’s website [www.ijb.de], whilst the printed catalogue will be released on 20 October at this year’s Frankfurt International Book Fair. Democracy was also honoured with the:the Greek Children’s Book Circle Award – IBBY 2016 in the category ‘Award for an author of books for teenagers and young adults’, &the ‘Best Script’ and ‘Best Comic by Wacom’ awards at the 2016 Greek Comics Awards. The White Ravens distinction has also been awarded to the books Ships That Carried the Imagination (Maria Angelidou and Antonis Papatheodoulou) in 2015, and Just a Little More... a fairy tale inspired by the poems of Giorgos Seferis (Alexis Kyritsopoulos) in 2013.

Theodoros Papaioannou, author of the fairy tales Anapoda and Apenanti, spoke in the first person to diastixo.gr about his first steps in writing.His text is republished here: For as long as I can remember, I have been in a school. A pupil, a student, a teacher. Surrounded by pencils, erasers, pens, exercise books, books and notebooks. Well, you don’t need much else to start writing. I’ve been writing since I was a child. From little notes to stories, short stories, plays and poems. I started writing fairy tales when I was older. When I was little, they used to read them to me or tell them to me. Later, I read them on my own. I never wanted school to end. I don’t know why. I liked it when it stopped for the holidays, but I always wanted it to start again. So the only way for school to continue was to cross over to the ‘other side’, and go from being a pupil to becoming a teacher. ‘Upside-down’ things, in other words. I think that in the end things didn’t turn out quite like that, because most of the time when I go into the classroom I sit at a desk. I feel better at a desk with the children around me. Ah, the children. Without them, I probably wouldn’t write. I collect their sentences and words on scraps of paper, in diaries, in the palm of my hand... Their conversations are usually the starting point for a story or a fairy tale. Is that too much to ask? When I finally believed that my stories could be read by more children, I started knocking on the doors of publishing houses. I knocked with large mustard-coloured envelopes, but they wouldn’t open them. That’s when I remembered I had to be patient. (I’d been through the same thing with music, when I was learning the guitar.) Because I wasn’t patient; I wanted everything to happen straight away. In a flash, as they say. At some point, a man turned up – what we call a ‘sponsor’ – and so my first book, containing two plays for children, was published in a limited edition. It was black and white, but I didn’t care at all. I kept sending out those mustard-coloured envelopes in the hope that a door might open. The exercise in patience continued. ‘A good lesson, I won’t deny it, but how long will it last?’, I wondered. Eventually, I decided to put together a portfolio of my own, containing all the replies from the closed doors. They all said more or less the same thing. ‘Thank you, very nice, but we won’t be taking it because...’. The folder just kept getting thicker and thicker. After a few years, one folder made it through, the door opened, and it became a book! With its colours, its songs, everything about it. Such joy! That wait, with all its setbacks, gave birth to *Anapoda*, which is also my first book to be awarded by the Children’s Book Circle in 2015.With the colours of the rainbow adorning nature and Melios the beetle, it was now clear that, after patience and perseverance, the journey was changing course. The following year, *Apenanti* came along with its songs, won the booksellers’ award from Public, and it too boarded the ship. Well, then came more fairy tales, a teenage novel; some are on their way, some are on paper and others in my mind. I feel lucky because I have precious travelling companions: Viktoras, Sofia, Kostas, Leda, Irida, Marilena, Roula, Vicky, Christina, Myrto and, of course, my son Orestis, who writes the music for the songs in the fairy tales.When I perform or narrate a fairy tale and I’m surrounded by children, I feel that this is the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do. To be among children. I love that they speak the truth without a second thought, that they are spontaneous. That they laugh with all their hearts when something strikes them as truly funny. For children to let you share a story of yours with them is truly a great honour. When they actually enjoy it and have a good time, it’s magic. When I first started writing, I used to say that if even one child fell asleep reading one of my stories, I’d feel happy. Now that I’m sure that’s happened, I can say that I am. When friends ask me, ‘But how do you come up with them? Where do you find them?’ and things like that, I reply: Everywhere. In the trees, in the plants, on a walk in the mountains, in children’s laughter, in a photograph, on a journey... I try to look at the world around me as if I were seeing it for the first time every time.

Professor and author Charidimos K. Tsoukas was recently honoured with two prestigious international awards.On 8 July 2016, he was named the 18th honorary member of the European Group of Organization Studies (EGOS) for 2016. The EGOS award ceremony took place in Naples, Italy, during the 32nd conference of the international academic association. Each year, EGOS – the largest academic association for organisational and management studies in Europe – honours a scholar with the title of Honorary Member for their work and contribution to the development of the relevant academic field.In her speech honouring Professor Tsoukas, Professor Ann Langley noted, among other things: ‘Charidimos K. Tsoukas’s dedication to research and knowledge, his wisdom and his professional virtues far exceed the criteria of the EGOS Council. Mr Tsoukas is not only an outstanding researcher and a dedicated member of EGOS, but also a significant academic entrepreneur, an inspiring teacher and a responsible citizen with a keen interest in the common good. Charidimos is an original thinker who has made a significant and influential contribution to organisational studies and the EGOS community. We are proud to name him as our Honorary Member for 2016.”On 8 August 2016, he was awarded the Joanne Martin Trailblazer Award by the Organization and Management Theory Division of the American Academy of Management . The American Academy of Management is the world’s most authoritative and largest academic association for the study of management issues. The award was presented at its annual conference in Anaheim, California.Charidimos K. Tsoukas is the Columbia Ship Management Chair in Strategic Management in the Department of Business Administration and Public Administration at the University of Cyprus, and former Dean of the School of Economics and Management.Ikaros has published his book *The Tragedy of the Commons: Political Corruption, the Discrediting of Institutions and Bankruptcy*. This book is an anthology of the author’s political articles from 2007 to 2014, accompanied by an extensive introduction. The Tragedy of the Commons is, in essence, a chronicle of the descent into bankruptcy, a retrospective look at the political and institutional processes and decisions that led to the country’s widespread collapse. You can find more information about the book here. You can read more about Charidimos K. Tsoukas on his website: www.htsoukas.com