Reaching page five of my new book Thomas Korovini, you realize that you are now seeing the first dot. And at the same time, you understand that this did not bother you at all. His writing is so smooth, but at the same time emotional, saturated with information, which is mesmerizing. And also the theme: Bebe’s life. It’s also a title. “Kid” (Agra editions).

This was his nickname Dimitris Stergiou, an extremely accomplished soloist of many stringed musical instruments, but most notably the bouzouki and the guitar. “A proud, anxious fellow with potential and masculine beauty,” as its author describes, Bebis (1927-1972) was one of the most brilliant and educated musicians of his time, an untouchable dance artist, with aggression, passion. .. “simultaneously introverted and self-destructive.” Bemba Blanche was also his passion, a love that consumed him, the old folks said, along with the booze that landed him in psychiatric hospitals. He died of alcoholism at the age of 45, leaving behind few recordings, as he despised studios.

But his passion and technique, original improvisations were admired by the patrons of the folklore centers of Greece and America. They also won the respect of his contemporaries, with Manolis Chiotis being the first and the best. Who was better remains a matter of debate in musicians’ circles, as is the “opposite” between the two, although insiders spoke of mutual respect.

A tireless researcher of folk tradition, as well as creativity that flourishes in the fields, author of books about the Zeybeks of Asia Minor, Asikids, as well as Stelios Kazantzidis, Sotiria Bellou, Giorgos Ioannou and others, composer, lyricist of folk songs, This time T. Korovinis drowning in the restless world of Dimitris Stergiou. I say sinks because the author, with feverish devotion, real and fictional cases, brings to life the adventures of his rebellious, rebellious and sensitive hero. And at the same time the world, an outcast and no, of an entire era.

Well-chosen verses from the folk songs of Vamvakaris, Yenitsaris, Tsitsanis, Zambetas and many others, forgotten words of Arabic, Albanian, Turkish, Bulgarian, Pontic and ancient Greek origin diversify his rich language.

In the writings of Korovini one can see traces of his activities as a philologist, even his years of life in Constantinople, his love for Greek and Turkish folk culture, as well as the organized look of a serious research scientist. The words he chooses to fashion his novel – it could become a monologue in the theater – bring his characters to life with believability. In the notes at the bottom of the page, the oldest, most marginal of them are translated, enriching the vocabulary of the area from the depths of the last century.

At a time when television confirms and flatters the stereotype of lightness from morning to night, Korovinis cymbally recalls the sharp bittersweet taste of real life, the whole world that still huddles in the most traumatized part of our collective memory.