Marialena Semitekolou: “My relationship with the literary tradition is rather unruly and playful.”

Marialena Semitekolou, on the occasion of her novella *Sundays, in Summer*, gave an interview to Sofia Zisi for *Tetragono*. Read it below: In your book, you use the present tense and a simple vocabulary, which lends a sense of immediacy to your narrative. Is simplicity of style a goal for you? What meaning would a story have if its charm and interest were limited to the elaborate style of the narrative? I admire stories in which the style serves the needs of the narrative and not the other way round. Marina’s Sunday is a simple Sunday, and above all immersive in the way she experiences it, despite her flashbacks to the past and her dreamlike journeys. Marina is a simple heroine, without narcissism or posturing. She is a heroine who almost consciously renounces her ‘depth’ or her narrative substance. I hope that the directness and simplicity you have discerned in the style of my narrative faithfully convey the unique nature of my heroine and her summer Sunday.Each of the book’s sections (Morning, Midday, Afternoon, Evening, Monday) begins with the lyrics of a song, serving as an epigraph. How did you choose these particular songs? These specific – favourite – songs emerged spontaneously, but not at all by chance, I imagine. Their lyrics are directly linked to the text: they look at it askance and/or mock it (Morning, Monday), they describe it, giving it an inner tone (Noon), they make an invocation / prayer for the sake of the text (Afternoon) and they resonate with it, summarising it with exceptional simplicity (Evening).How long did it take you to write Marina’s story? The story was written in two phases (morning–midday and afternoon–evening–Monday). Each of these phases was written rather quickly, almost intensively. However, a lot of time passed between the two phases and there was a long pause, so that in the end Marina’s Sunday lasted much longer than 24 hours… Your narrative gives the impression that it consciously avoids the pursuit of originality. Are there moments when you’re drawn to the idea of writing something that has never been written in quite the same way before? I’m not sure what you mean by the word ‘originality’ or whether one can even speak of ‘original writing’ anymore. I’m drawn to the idea of writing in a style that doesn’t put on airs or mechanically imitate others. I want to consciously avoid the sense of tedium, of monotony and of sloppiness, something I feel happens when I lose my emotional connection with what I’m writing.One might describe your book as nostalgic, confessional, associative, minimalist. How would you like it to be described? Three words would suffice for me to describe the book: honest, finely crafted, moving. I’d like all three to be tightly interwoven with one another. I also really like all the descriptions you’ve chosen! Do you feel that your writing fits into a particular literary movement? What is your relationship with the literary tradition both within and outside Greece? I feel that your question is of a literary nature. I therefore ‘hold back’ from answering it, because I do not come from the world of academia, which would allow me to respond with the precision and competence I would like. Moreover, I do not know how my self-identification with a particular literary movement would help me. My relationship (as a reader) with the literary tradition both within and outside Greece is rather unruly and playful: I make my way from book to book, without a specific plan and without any strict adherence to what ‘must’ or must not be read. I imagine this choice has cost me some perhaps serious gaps in my reading, but I make up for them, feeling the luxury of an amateur, rather than a professional (of writing and reading).Is writing a solitary task for you? Do you need to isolate yourself to write? I find it hard to imagine writing as a social activity! I need to be ‘alone’ when I write, either literally or in my mind (whilst doing other, unrelated things). But I don’t necessarily isolate myself. It has happened, for instance, that I’ve written a whole page whilst a group of young children were playing noisily and laughing right next to me, or on several occasions, crammed onto a bus, I’ve written sentences in my head. It is a state of unique concentration, precious and almost magical, which you never know when it will come to you.A phrase from your book that you feel sums it up (apart from the title)? ‘She scans the walls around her with her eyes, sweeps them with her gaze, feels them with her hands to find a hole, an opening to start digging at it patiently to make it bigger and let in a little air, to let a sliver of light shine through.”