Extension

D.N. Maronitis, To Vima tis Kyriakis, 3 June 2012 Which is to say: the brief respite of last Sunday is being extended, albeit at the expense of the second round of erratic pre-election news, which is being promoted by Syriza’s predictions with the populist lure: Europeans and euros for free. For those who are fed up with endless vigils—which, however, lend themselves to midnight reading—all it takes is to get hold of the right book. In my case, this happened with the ten short stories by Dimitris Nollas, gathered in the eighty-three pages of a booklet. It is titled ‘In the Place’, published by Ikaros, and was read in one sitting twice over the course of a single night – this is the third and most demanding reading, intended to result in a written piece.The difficulty lies in the fact that here the sense of taste and touch takes precedence, embedded in a kind of ‘natural’ discourse that brooks no second-hand interpretation, especially when attempting to reproduce the narrative plot. I shall endeavour, as far as possible, to avoid this tempting shortcut, speaking with ‘The Words of the Air’, just as the named and unnamed passengers do on the old-fashioned train in the second, eponymous short story.I first came across Dimitris Nollas in 1974 with his first novella, which bore the whimsical title ‘Athena’s Fairy’. Since then, I have taken a great liking to him and his writing, which, in the meantime, has flourished in both quality and quantity. If my count is correct, his total output to date amounts to seventeen books in Greek, to which are added two translations into other languages. The first and most substantial category comprises three novellas, six collections of short stories, four novels, and two standalone texts of an unclassifiable nature.The numerical predominance of short stories should not be considered coincidental: I have the feeling that Nollas excels comfortably in this genre and proves himself a true master. This is not to say that he falls short in novellas – indeed, some of the longer short stories justify the title of ‘novella’. Novels, however, are, I believe, Nollas’s secret weakness, in the best sense of the word: they appeared somewhat late (1992) with *The Mound by the Sea* (which rightly won the first state prize of the year), whilst the fourth and, as yet, final instalment of the series, entitled Each Person’s Time, reveals new and daring innovations in form and fiction, incorporating elements of latent poetry within the narrative framework without becoming overly poetic.I now return to the subject, having, as a devoted reader of Nollas, perused most of his prose works, and having concluded that, in my opinion, he is recognised as the finest prose writer of his generation. Two preliminary observations precede this. The first concerns the titles of the ten short stories, which, when taken together, form a strange poem. A mood that is also confirmed in the quotations featured in three of the stories. In the first: ‘Oh, poor children, poor children, children in exile.’ In the third: ‘To those I love.’ In the tenth, a profound statement by Argyris Chionis in two sentences, the first of which is reproduced here: Man is a beautiful thing, perhaps the most beautiful object of all, especially when he remains motionless and silent in a corner of a room or a landscape, forgotten and almost invisible. In much the same way, the narrator Nollas remains hidden behind the curtain of the ten stories, completely avoiding any prominent role for himself.Now to the substance: I suggest a comparative reading of the first and last stories in the collection (the first is titled ‘Baby in the Hammock’, the last ‘In the Place’), to reveal their complementary parallels. At the end of the first, the life-saving abduction of a baby—essentially an abandoned child—takes place arbitrarily. The second concludes with Sefi collapsing face down from his broken bench, remaining in the place. Just like his anonymous comrade in the battle of Koritsa, who, swapping places with him outside the dugout for greater safety, takes a bullet straight to the head and is left lying there. Unwittingly saving Sefi, who henceforth persists in his life, unshakeable. Second analogy: in the first story, the duo of Rolando (commonly known as Roulis) and Anastasis remain, ‘living and half-living’, in inhospitable Athens as immigrants: one an outsider, the other an insider. In the final short story (late 1950s), Allogiannis, an official at the relevant department, tries to persuade Sefi to apply to emigrate to Germany, but Sefi remains unconvinced and unmoved.That’s a first taste and introduction to the ten short stories by Dimitris Nollas, which stand out this time round.