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
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
Uskoro će sve biti gotovo. Prokletnici, obrtna optika ludila u mojoj glavi ubrzava. Više nisam žena, nego sam makroskopska čestica. Čigra. Zovite me Čigra. učiniću to tako naglo, tako grozničavo, a opet mirno, ruka mi se neće zatresti. Blago ću se saviti napred, noge u širini ramena, da.. Smiri telo. Naciljaj pažljivo. Povuci obarač. Udahni duboko. Naciljaj, povuci, smiri… Smiri…
I wrote a terrible poem. Always is like that when I want to write something optimistic .. I’d better get my attention on my bloody diaries about midgets.
“yeah.. we ALL read it. I read it last night.. nah… very bad. ugly!”, Eva Green
“hahahaha, bitch.”, Angelique Bouchard
“Sans commentaires”, Isabelle Adjani
“I can do that”, Angelina Jolie
“I know what I’ll do. I’ll give you a drachma!”
The landlady waves the electric bill,
eyeing me as if I were her lamb meant for slaughter,
but I am a she-dreamer of beautiful lips.
Jesus understands me, we speak the same tongue.
Amunet agrees, and envelops me in her generous embrace.
The cities understand, the blindness sees,
the blood of the innocents still flows as I cast
the curse of the fiery tongue on the Daemonion
after I’ve sacrificed myself to the world outside.
She burns at the doorstep, bills in embered hand…
O, how we do not forgive our debtors.
And glory be to the hellish tower of slaves!
Glory! Amen, oh Babylon!
I walk thy streets, bare and free.
Rabbi Isa, deliver me not from Evil.