Sunburned and melancholic that I returned from my vacation, it’s at last time to sit down and write to you about this wondrous work of Nikos Kazantzakis, a novel-landmark not only for Grete but the entire Greece as well.
I first encountered the above-pictured copy of Zorba in a small, picturesque souvenir shop in Gerakini, Chalkidiki. A shop whose “aroma” inspired nothing but Grecian air and sea, the proper home for Kazantzakis’ words!
A quick glance at the first page and I was intrigued and lured into our intellectual’s world. Zorba had been made an instant perfect acquaintance of mine.
Grabbed my copy, grabbed my postcards and headed straight to the sea.
Thus, began my trip to Crete! Continue reading
A pocket-sized reminder that poetry is dangerous!
Cavafy. Dear Constantine, my most sincere apologies for the years I abandoned you and your work at my half-opened literature textbooks. I have finally come to meet you in a proper way. See you again this year!
Parenthesis has closed. For one, I kinda owed Cavafy an apology for my quick and a little harsh judgment of his work (oh, and yes, I’m still getting nostalgic over last year’s reads). This little black classic (along with Rossetti’s’) helped me overcome the intimidation, the fear of poetry. Talking about fears is also extremely intimidating so let me quote one of Fanny and Keats’s discussions.
Fanny Brawne: I still don’t know how to work out a poem.
John Keats: A poem needs understanding through the senses. The point of diving into a lake is not immediately to swim to the shore but to be in the lake, to luxuriate in the sensation of water. You do not work the lake out, it is a experience beyond thought. Poetry soothes and emboldens the soul to accept the mystery.