Eva Bay
With Nikos Karuzos. Calendar
ed. Loggia, P. 384

I began to read with prejudice and hope. Hope soon collapsed, and prejudice was confirmed, and nothing untoward happened to either one or the other. Hope: The book may be of interest primarily because of the outstanding poet Nikos Karusou, it will provide useful biographical information about the poet and his work. Bias: Rarely is a testimonial text that tells about the author’s relationship with an important creator that provides us with materials for studying the work of the latter. Usually these books offer – at least on a high level – gossip. They are of little interest to mature readers, even if their pages have their place in coffee shop discussions and on the printed or digital pages of the relevant media.

In fact, I did not learn from Bey anything that could be useful to me when reading Caruso’s poems. Fortunately, however, this pretext was available, otherwise I might not have gotten the book. I devoured it from the first page, struck by the forgotten appetite with which I devoured some of the readings of my youth. What gossip? Here before us is the inspired pen of a shrewd woman. Faced with doubts about the value of her enterprise, Bey herself recruits a peasant from Mytilene who, when asked about Theophilus’ work, says, “These fine craftsmen seem to contain a soul” (p. 287). This is the secret of the book. Reading this, I felt that the soul is “at home” in a way that I no longer expected. Controlled emotions, well-stylized writing and a steady, wavy reflection with a subtle sense of humor, which is reflected in her repeated mention of the nickname given to her by her poet-lover: “Giaura”! I confess that I will never “allow” a Greek woman of her generation to be naked like this, with naturalness, tenderness and sharpness in equal, well-seasoned doses.

The courage to reveal a very personal experience is subjected in this book to deeply cultivated and disciplined mind control. The culture (and personality) of an educated artist, predominantly Western (despite the opposite impression created by the reference to Theophilus), is intertwined through the work of Bey with Caruso, but also with Athens of a certain era, with London, with Paris. But it gets so hard. The artist Bey actually talks about herself, about her development. Karousos, as well as her family, the cafe scene in Athens, and the cats of the homeless are an occasion to reveal her unique, original emotions towards things and convey them to us. Perhaps the only part of the book where we feel the couple as such are the protagonists is London during Caruso’s hospital stay there. The narrative is framed by the features of the couple, starring observable little girls, the “Lilans”. These are perhaps the most powerful pages, along with those that tell of her own adventure with health in the company of two cats, after Karuzos passed away. Private moments and comments about culture and public space are expressed here in an old-fashioned rhythm, with an elegance that grabs you before you even notice it. If the word matters, then the book is excellent in its own way.