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Krystalia Patouli | www.tvxs.gr, 25-06-2012 With the arrest of Savvas Xiros and those others alleged to be members of the organisation, it is as if the cycle that began with the Metapolitefsi has come full circle.In the summer of 2002, there was a pervasive fear or numbness in the atmosphere, as if the prosecutions were about to become widespread and include anyone on the left, from the era of the anti-dictatorship struggle onwards.Or as if the ultimate aim of the prosecutions was to incriminate those I mentioned earlier. Both the Polytechnic generation and my own, that of the post-dictatorship era, began with collective visions only to end up trapped in the cocoon of individualism.And the days of the dismantling of 17 November were as if to remind us of exactly what we once were and what we have now become. It was like a final spasm of the collective as it faded away, a last flicker of it.That is why the whole atmosphere seemed appropriate for my narrative, which leads to the bitter realisation that the only collective thing left to us today is friendship. But perhaps there is an optimistic note here too.Because friendship could also act as a catalyst for whatever collective spirit emerges in the near future! Something like the old Philiki Etaireia! The only thing that saves us is friendship. One could put it that way. […] In my early books, from the 1980s, using the language of my time, I managed – by general admission – to capture certain collective characteristics of my generation. Later, I explored individualism and its labyrinth. They accused not only me, but my entire generation, of being obsessed with lifestyle, or perhaps of going along with it. But that was the 1990s: the era of lifestyle. It was something new to all of us, and as prose writers of that era, we explored it.After all, the politicisation of the post-dictatorship era had gone too far, the collective had become a parody, and when the constellation of individualism rose, it was clearly radical.With ‘Friends’, it’s as if I’m returning to the collective. There’s a trend of returning to politics; you can even see it in Hollywood films, it just hasn’t taken on mass proportions yet. It’s as if social consciousness is gradually returning.And within this context, from precisely this perspective, I discover friendship as a solution and a salvation, as resistance to the commodification of everything. However, we should not view friendship narrowly, merely as a relationship between teenagers, for example, but also between couples, children and parents. As a catalyst and a reason that will once again create a sense of community, something hopeful. [...] I observe today’s youngsters, the twenty-five-year-olds, and suddenly realise the confusion they are caught up in. Whilst they are a link in a chain, they delude themselves into thinking they are a new beginning, precisely because they have never experienced anything collective. My generation had the sense that something had come before it, and that something would follow.We were conscious of the historical baton relay. (Excerpt from Vangelis Raptopoulos’s book, The High Art of Failure, Ikaros Publications, 2012)  

Elisavet Kotzia, Kathimerini, 3/6/2012The ten short stories in the collection ‘In the Land’ (‘Ikaros’, p. 85) mark a new direction in Dimitris Nollas’s prose. Texts from the last decade highlight an aspect that was faintly visible in his previous collection of short stories, ‘The Old Enemy’ (2004). It is the shift from the realm of the incongruous, the empty and the alien towards a side where a glimmer of warmth, a hint of heat, a small haven of comfort and love is concentrated. For the issue at stake is emotion, the emotional bond, the openness to human connection. In Nolla’s earlier prose, the world appeared immutably bleak, definitively inhospitable, perpetually hostile; a dystopia whose consistently negative character was due to the unfriendly individuals, the passive subjects and the rootless beings who inhabited it. A world fashioned from the aimless trajectories of the fated and the misfits, it comprised people who struggled to fit into the community. The unemployed, the swindlers and the misfits; the dreamers, the wavering and the half-mad; the humiliated, the degenerate and the gravely ill. Absent-minded gazes, people who were forgotten, figures who wandered, figures who were lost; in labyrinths, in wells and in arcades; figures who strayed, went astray, were led astray. A world with no refuge for the lost, no shelter for the destitute, no haven of a warm embrace. Inevitable, Nolla’s merciless, heartless, alien universe was derailing and drowning in blood. Thus, alongside the two-faced and the stripped bare, the wretched and the defeated, within the twilight universe the unthinkable was taking place. Envious, shameless, greedy, filthy and unrestrained figures plunged knives into chests, fired guns and detonated explosive devices. It was a world of enmity and strife with no place for affection, tenderness or love. With ‘The Place’, Dimitris Nollas contrasts the previous poetics of inhuman alienation with a new poetics of friendship. Not, of course, something radically different, but a slightly tweaked version of the older one. For his heroes continue to find themselves on the social and psychological margins (fanatical bachelors, solitary old men, the romantically wounded, isolated outcasts). In his earlier work, the emotional element intruded through emptiness and absence. Here, by contrast, it is presented directly as an expression of responsibility for the other: the pursuit of caring for a defenceless infant and the reciprocal offering of companionship (in ‘Burnt Papers’ and ‘Baby in the Hammock’, two prose pieces which, not coincidentally, are Christmas stories). ‘A Bagel for Two’ and ‘Inevitable Encounters’, which are governed by the Gospel saying ‘it is not good for man to be alone’. Finally, ‘Matzikert’, ‘Still Life on the Water’ and ‘The Price of Dreams’, which legitimise the cultural otherness of the outsider in the embrace of the immigrant community.In the new collection, Nollas walks a tightrope and triumphs. In ‘The Old Enemy’ there were stories involving critical social issues and sensitive matters of political correctness which perhaps exceeded the capacity of their fictional material (‘No One Alone and Sad’, ‘The Mute Other’). In contrast, in ‘In the Place’, the central idea is established, digested and assimilated through a variety of circumstances whose common element is the circumvention of reason – through the sudden revelation that pierces like a ray, through the reckless devotion offered freely, through unwavering obsession, through generous giving, through superstitious faith.

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.

The speech by Nikolaos I. Mertzos at the launch of Konstantinos Svolopoulos’s book, "Konstantinos Karamanlis 1907–1998: A Political Biography", which took place on Saturday 26 May 2012, as part of the 9th Thessaloniki International Book Fair. Over the last 35 years, numerous books by many – generally distinguished – authors have been published, dedicated specifically to Constantine Karamanlis and his politics, as well as proceedings of academic conferences and, in twelve volumes, his Archives. Moreover, the Macedonian National Leader features prominently in at least as many hundreds of books and other publications that refer to the public life of the Greeks and the state of Greece between 1955 and 1995. He features sometimes positively and sometimes negatively, depending, of course, on the author’s perspective and the specific time period. One might therefore ask why, after all this and four years after his death, ‘Ikaros’ has published yet another book on Karamanlis this year. The reasons are obvious: in these difficult times, Constantine G. Karamanlis is more relevant and more popular than ever. He is the towering figure of the statesman whom we so desperately need today and whom we so desperately miss. And, because our leadership as a whole has lacked his example, the foundations of the Earth, of our Fatherland, have been shaken, and the very existence of Hellenism is already hanging in the balance. Everything that the Greek people built under his leadership is crumbling.His ethos and his prestige, his frugality and his determination, his integrity and his efficiency, his foresight and his steadfastness, its patriotism and its wisdom are certainly rare virtues, and it is a utopian hope that it would ever be possible for our future political leaders to embody them all with such intensity.Not everyone can be like him. Nevertheless, they undoubtedly constitute a School of Politics that one would reasonably expect today’s politicians to strive, if only to strive, to follow. And, if they could not advance them even a single step in any direction, they had a duty at least not to betray them. For these are not the virtues of a single man. They are the virtues that Greek civilisation has taught us for thousands of years, they are the values our forefathers won with their blood, they are the worldview handed down to us by the Greek centuries, and they are the fundamental principles of the Greek Constitution that politicians swore to uphold faithfully.Times are so dark today, circumstances so erratic, and the Greeks so wounded, so bewildered and so justifiably angry that, it seems, we have forgotten what kind of Greece we built, how and with whom, what we went through, how high we have risen, where we belong, who threatens us and who helps us. What Logic dictates to us. The great merit of this book is that it scientifically X-rays precisely what we have forgotten, what we urgently need, and what, in our bewilderment and anger, we are now gambling away.The title of the book is Karamanlis 1907–1998: A Political Biography. In reality, however, it is an X-ray of a pivotal era that the Great Macedonian National Leader shaped through his actions. It is the era that defined the lives of the Greeks. Karamanlis developed the economy and organised a cohesive society, established a genuine democracy, deepened trans-Balkan cooperation whilst resolutely defending Macedonia, impressively promoted Greek culture, enhanced the quality of tourism, built the country’s strategic infrastructure and integrated Greece into Europe, ensuring the prosperity of the people and national security. The book’s merit is, of course, due to its author. Konstantinos Svolopoulos possesses unique qualifications in this regard: 1. He is a professor of history and has distinguished himself through his work to such an extent that he was elected a member and President of the Academy of Athens. 2. He has been dedicated to historical research since his youth, with a fruitful tenure as director of the Hersonissos Foundation for Research. 3. Young, yet already scientifically mature, he was personally selected by Karamanlis from among many researchers to organise the Karamanlis Archive, a task he carried out in an exemplary manner. For many years, he studied, evaluated and cross-referenced tens of thousands of documents, publishing the most important ones in twelve voluminous, well-structured volumes.4. He founded and directs the Karamanlis Foundation, which also houses the archives of other statesmen, complementing the picture of this eminent statesman and his era.5. By nature, he is gentle, level-headed, moderate and extremely sparing in his descriptions. He does not interpret events: he documents and narrates them calmly. Even more importantly: he recounts the events in their actual, specific historical context so that the reader can assess them in relation to the specific conditions that prevailed at that time – and not later.6. Finally, he lived alongside Karamanlis almost daily for the last 25 years, from 1974 to 1998. He is perhaps the only historian who, before writing his biography, got to know the leader in question and his archives at close quarters. Almost every day he would talk to him, ask him questions, and seek – and obtain – crucial details, explanations and interpretations. He learned first-hand how the protagonist of this book personally explained events to him, interpreted intentions, assessed other key figures, friends, opponents and third parties, and how he himself judged certain initiatives of his, both at the time and later in hindsight. However, Karamanlis’s biography is not an interview with Karamanlis, nor does it uncritically endorse Karamanlis’s views. It is History. And History is not written by the subject of the history. It is written by the historian. These are the reasons why, in this book, Professor K. Svolopoulos records so much and so much of significance in so few pages—a mere 236. A further 30 pages cover the references to sources and the index. This is a remarkable achievement: it requires intense intellectual labour, a complete grasp of the historical era and an in-depth knowledge of the subject being studied.There is a well-known expression: ‘Forgive me for writing so much. I am in a hurry.’ The historian is neither in a hurry nor does he rush history. He works and researches it. This is what K. Svolopoulos did. He did so as objectively as possible and, moreover, wrote it vividly. His narrative flows so pleasantly that the reader cannot put the book down until they reach the very last page. The plot is gripping because it is true and, above all, revealing. And, as you follow it, you feel as though you are actually in an operating theatre where, with a scalpel—his words—the professor makes incisions page by page: He dissects the era, the circumstances, the people, the major interests, the international environment, the politicians, the military, the institutions, the Palace and, of course, Karamanlis himself.The book is so dense and its internal logic so vivid that a brief summary would do its content an injustice and obscure the historical reality. Let us, therefore, briefly touch upon certain key milestones in Karamanlis’s journey through ‘Turning Points’, such as his entry into politics, his departure from politics in 1963, his return in 1974 and his succession in 1981.1. Undoubtedly, the environment in which Karamanlis grew up shaped his character and the central tenets of his subsequent political career: the Macedonian Struggle, his father Georgios—a teacher, a Macedonian fighter and tobacco grower—his village of Kioupkoi, the poverty of the farmers, and the constant Bulgarian raids on the Serres plain mentioned by the author are all significant factors. I believe, however, that all these significant factors were not decisive. Karamanlis was simply born a leader. He was, by nature, a deeply political man; he possessed an infallible instinct for the threats and opportunities of the moment; he was deeply pained by the National Schism; and he loved deeply the humble Greek people whom he longed to serve. He remained bitterly solitary throughout his life, strictly ascetic and a hard worker. He told me in 1977: ‘You don’t order politicians from the carpenter to have them made to measure. They are born. They don’t learn. As a young man, I used to see men constantly fighting to the death in every café over trivial matters, and I’d say, ‘It’s poverty.’ I was wrong. I worked hard to increase our income and, once I’d dramatically raised their standard of living, the brawls got worse. Out of the blue, the Schism reared its head again. Do you think we’re true descendants of the ancient Greeks? How does the Iliad begin? With a quarrel, a fit of rage: the King quarrels with his chief warrior before Troy – ‘Give me Chryseis’ ‘No, take Briseis’ – and the enemy takes them both captive. The Greek disaster over nothing. That is why I worked hard and gave way to anger so that the Greeks might unite. Here I failed.’ Earlier, in 1963, he had written in a letter: ‘Despite my efforts, I have not succeeded in improving political life in Greece, and the worst thing is that I hold no hope of achieving this in the future, given that I have exhausted the scope for moderation and prudence.”Ten years before he was even elected Prime Minister, he dissected with surgical precision the country’s fundamental political problem, which – he believed – was being mutually reinforced by political leaders and citizens alike. A mere Member of Parliament, just 39 years old, on the eve of the Civil War, he wrote, among other things: ‘Our country suffers from an incurable political deficiency. Is any further proof needed of our current predicament? Our leadership has lost its sense of duty to such an extent that it is considered a danger to the future of the country, whilst our people, a people who have always faced their political problems with morbid sentimentality, are already plagued by psychoses. Where can one find reason in this blessed land of ours?’ Sixty-six years on, these words of his are more relevant today than ever. As Prime Minister, he sought to halt and reverse this situation during his creative first eight years in office. However, he was overthrown by the very forces he had described as early as 1946.2. In 1963, the King forced him to resign, rejected his democratic proposal to call immediate elections, and demanded that he hand over his party to another Prime Minister so that the Palace could govern. Otherwise, he threatened him with immediate turmoil. To protect the people from a new schism and to safeguard the constitutional system, and even the King, Karamanlis left for Zurich. These events are indisputable and are revealed by irrefutable evidence in the Karamanlis Archives. Here, Svolopoulos merely alludes to them and clearly ‘softens’ them. They inevitably resurface in the following pages, of course, but are always and everywhere phrased with such politeness that, I believe, it does a disservice to the harsh truth. As an irreproachable historian, however, the professor publishes revealing and ultimately prophetic public statements by Karamanlis. On 28 September 1963, he returned suddenly from Zurich to Athens to campaign for the election and declared, with both bitterness and prophecy: ‘It will be decided whether the free political system will survive in our country or whether the country will be plunged into turmoil with unforeseeable consequences.” A month later, on 28 October 1963, the President of the Council of State, Stylianos Mavromichalis, who had been appointed by the King as acting Prime Minister to guarantee fair elections, was in Thessaloniki for the national anniversary. After the parade, he invites a few journalists to the Government House, makes us promise not to publish anything, and tells us quite openly: ‘I became the bulldozer to get Karamanlis out of the way and clear the path.’The blood rushed to my head; I was 27 years old. I said: ‘Aren’t you afraid that this statement of yours might expose you as an impartial judge?’ ‘I’m not afraid at all.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Because I am a Mavromichalis!’....3. In November 1963, Karamanlis lost the election by a narrow margin and the King appointed Georgios Papandreou as Prime Minister, although he did not have a clear parliamentary majority. Karamanlis withdrew from politics and went into self-imposed exile in Paris. In his farewell letter to the MPs of his party, the ERE, he wrote: ‘My withdrawal from politics is not the result of personal bitterness. The events preceding and following the elections have demonstrated that the country’s political system functions defectively under a regime of coercion. However, politics is not a profession but a mission.’ The die had been cast and very soon the political system would be overthrown. Earlier, on 22 January 1965, Karamanlis had warned in vain from Paris: ‘The principles of Democracy, Morality and Justice are being trampled upon so shamelessly that we shall be led, sooner or later but certainly, into national turmoil’4. In July 1974, following a seven-year military dictatorship and a national catastrophe in Cyprus, Karamanlis returned as a national saviour. He saved the country, established an exemplary democratic system, restored national unity and, within five years, brought Greece into the European Union on equal terms. He confessed and expressed hope: ‘I threw the Greeks into the sea, but they will learn to swim.’ His assessment was wrong. His next mistake was his belief that he had tamed Andreas Papandreou, won his trust and ensured a smooth change of government. Unfortunately, his political successor taught the Greeks to swim in the 220 billion euros of European subsidies and the additional 200 billion euros in loans, to wade neck-deep in corruption and to sell their votes for appointments. He even taught his opponents to imitate him. We are living with the consequences of that today. That is why Constantine G. Karamanlis is more relevant today than ever, and his political biography, penned by Constantine Svolopoulos, more instructive than ever.The public life of that great man may be contained in just 236 pages, but it is an ocean. As far as time allowed, we have gleaned a few, but, I believe, useful and living lessons. May it serve as our guide when, through our vote, we judge the fate of the Nation, the security of the country, the lives of our families and the sacrifices of our forefathers. N. I. Mertzos President of the Society of Macedonian Studies, Journalist and Author