I highly recommend Leila Samarrai’s novel “Sleeping Mathilde” for publication.
This work is inspired by gothic fiction and it possesses elements of horror as well as science fiction. Considering we know how popular and trendy both genres are with a subset of the general readership audience, regardless whether it’s foreign authors or domestic ones I believe that “Sleeping Mathilde” will also find its place in our publishing line. The last sentence was not based merely on the genre itself but also on the fact that Samarrai, who graduated from the Faculty of Philology, is well versed in literature and has also been present on our literary scene for a good while and in this piece, as in her previous works, the best of her qualities as a writer come to fruition: a vivid imagination, an original, somewhat baroque expression and authentic characters lead by their passions and their hatreds. All of the above constitutes the most important ingredients for a good novel.
This medieval intrigue, that can with its eeriness and multiple plotlines compare to George R. R. Martin’s “A Game of Thrones” is set in the Nordic Europe. The curse of an aristocratic house which, derelict as it is, reminds the reader of “The Fall of the House of Usher” by Edgar Allan Poe, the shifting interests and master-vassal relations reminiscent of “cloak and dagger” drama, all of this gives a special flavor to this work of fiction which, fortunately, has a universal character therefore it need not necessarily take place in the North of Europe but anywhere where people believed (or still believe) in kings, mages, ghosts, and fantastic creatures.
Leila Samarrai is an author capable of transforming her expression, of moving between satire, humor and eeriness. This is a rare capability clearly illustrated in this novel which should not be retold but read. I would note one very interesting novel “The Adventures of Boris K.” (published by “Everest Media”) which, I hope, will see a reprint soon. This piece of satire, set in a dystopian state is, it seems, on the opposite side of the planet “Sleeping Mathilde” is on but it possesses the same trait – the quality of an author who is worth your attention.
dr Aleksandar Novaković, author and playwright
Aleksandar Novakovic Wikipedia
Vanity on the fox’s trail
Behold, a miracle!
Supposedly one-sided at instants
Suitable for a scrambled moment
The martyr and her daughter who wash their feet
Tasseled with nails instead of sandals
Anything but sough
Shores and scrapings fantasizing
Daughter do you wish the powder to slip you
To disturb the onus, non-being and tendrils
Wistful across the stones you overcome
Blacker than night
You fear there will no longer be vertebrates
It is the third hour in the night After
from “The Darkness will understand”
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Poem Hunter Leila Samarrai
The etymology of cunt is a matter of debate, but most sources consider that Jezebel, the best bar fly con blotto in the world, never caught cheating on control school exams, with a master’s degree in Old Norse languages, with a doctor’s degree in long distance running – one day, entered a cheap protogermanic bar with confidence, trampling its bandstand with her lucky adidas sneakers.
After she completed her missionary work for the day, she daddles the waitress, ordering two kissing fish. “Oooon… ttthe.. hhh… house!”, mutters she, fingering the holes in the Old Norse canteen’s table.
Everyone should know there will be something aggro in the air after the famous tit queen enters the bar.
She drinks dusties too, always looking forward to drink oddball liqueurs that no customers ever order.
Two whiskeys later she is starting to sing, “Cheers darls… my kunto'”, going apeshit: con skot kott cot cona kun cuneus cunnus.
Then she goes really ballistic smashing the table with her mighty fist, cursing the schlongs of the best Old Norse knights of the golden grummet, who are hiding the salami, returning from their recovering war – party, honorably descharged.
“I will make scissors of you!”, threatens she. The floor trembles…
Three tequilas later or five schnapps before, she is smashing everything around letting her knowledge to lead her through centuries, to modern English, sighing ah kotze, kut and kont kutte and the tone of her voice have arisen, yammering cona coño coynte, cunte and queynte canteen kunton, kunton, kunta kunta kunta conte cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt, cant…
– Stop it!
– I can’t I barely started I can’t I cant.. mmmm..nnnnn.. I can not!.. I… cant it’s too late I can’t, can’t cant cant cant cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt
cunt cunt cunt
cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt KOTZE! cunt
cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt
200 pages later: END OF THE CHAPTER.
Soon it will all be over. Damn them, the reverse optics of my intercranial madness are picking up the pace. I am no longer a woman, but a macroscopic particle. A peg-top. Call me Peg-Top. This I will do so suddenly, so feverishly, and yet so calmly, my hand will not quake. I will lightly lean forward, legs spread to the width of my shoulders, yes… Calm your body. Aim carefully. Pull the trigger. Take a deep breath. Aim, pull, calm…calm…
I live in peregrine flesh
I think in a peregrine head
I don’t want to be stultified!
Why you write so loud?)
I have been cured