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In this text, read on the opening day of the Leipzig Book Fair on March 18, 2010, Bulgaria's best-known contemporary writer extols literature’s ability to bolster us in the midst of economic and moral crisis.   Ladies and Gentlemen, I plead my innocence from the very start. I have been invited here to talk as a writer about a crisis I have not caused. Not I, nor the whole of the writerly guild, nor the people at this fair, readers and publishers....

In the following excerpt from her novel Adriana, Theodora Dimova weaves a tale of another poète maudit.   Adriana was venomous, irritable, depraved, evil, decadently damned, I’m like a line of Baudelaire, she was thinking, and it was over for me long ago, the decision was made long ago, and I have no way backward or forward, and I have no way, her beauty was blossoming over the mire of vices, her skin was becoming more milky white, her bones growing...

In this short story, Zachary Karabashliev chronicles one widower’s struggle to begin anew in another country.   June 11, 2010 My name is Christo Christov Christov and I’m here visiting my daughter. My daughter and son-in-law, that is. Radoslava. That’s her name, not his. They live in America, in the state of California. They got me a visa this spring and brought me here. Anyway. I’ve started keeping a diary in this notebook—my daughter gave it...

Angel Igov's short story, set in 1944, fictionalizes the events following the Communists' rise to power in one Bulgarian town.     In the thick February fog, heavy with the scent of coal, a young man was standing on the bridge by the Yuchbunar baths, tearing pages out of the notebook in his hand and tossing them into the river. When the final page had been carried off by the current, he seemed to hesitate for a moment. Then with sudden determination he tore...

Twin teenage sisters from a middle-class background are on the run from the authorities. They have joined a Partisan group based in the Balkan Mountains. The Partisans are a mixed bunch of young and old communists and peasant party members, all dedicated fighters against the Bulgarian monarchist regime and their German allies. Many have adopted colorful nicknames. Nail—short for Final Nail in the Coffin of Capitalism—or Digger—short for Gravedigger of Capitalism....

In this short story by Kristina Dimitrova, a mysterious customer reveals to a bookstore clerk the ​hidden gravity of the trade.     It was still wet from the rain and some of the paving stones gave way, soaking me with spurts of water. Many of the sidewalks in the city center do that; the meandering streets I have to walk down every morning and evening are like a minefield. The people who live nearby claim to know the neighborhood, but in...

In this poem, Boryana Neykova's traveler weighs what to take and what to leave behind.      Soon I will be leaving this town too the suitcase must not be too heavy things and people take up space but one wall from a dirty room...

In this short piece, Yordanka Beleva takes a clinical approach to canine companionship.     Women live longer than men. Women who are dog owners live longer than women who are not. Women dog-owners have love. Love is a dog. The National Club of Women Dog Owners. The previous sentences are excerpts from some questionnaires of mine, from the part concerning motivation, and the first question is “Why did you get a dog?” I copy, underline responses of interest,...

After every national catastrophe, the intelligentsia always regrets siding with the people. From an article in a liberal newspaper Society achieves harmony only in moments of tragedy, in the face of fateful events. And conversely, spontaneous celebration, freedom from cares and even happiness disconcert us. Thus, what makes us happy now? From an article in a liberal newspaper   Translator's note: The title of the story is taken from the title of the Bulgarian national...

The first part of the wolf hunt passes like a dream and reminds her of Don Juan’s lessons in sorcery from Carlos Castaneda’s books. They leave Sofia when it is still dark, in a sleepy state, there are almost no cars on the street, the stoplights are flashing yellow, while in the gorge the road is slightly slippery. The hills around them flow into one another. They have been married for five years and the distance between them has been steadily increasing. They are at work every...

She often called at this underworld hangout. The place was a celebrated haunt of gangsters no matter what innocent name it bore. Innocuously named Doli, it was one of a hundred Sofia dives whose patrons  slaughtered each other night after night to gain prestige or partake of simple pleasure. She went there not just for the adrenalin rush she loved since she was but a few years old (at five, she chopped off the head of one of her granny’s chickens with a kitchen knife and...

For V. When the two of them stepped toward the terrace, the Boy cast a nervous glance around: the restaurant was not exactly posh, but still one of those places the Old Man normally avoided. He said they made him uneasy. No, not the prices, but the staff's attention—he didn't like feeling worth more than he really was. This time, though, the Old Man strode in confidently, scanned the tables with a connoisseur's eye, and picked one in the corner, a table for two looking...

The year is 1994. A pale intellectual arrives at the Munich train station with a small suitcase and many hopes. This is Germany—blossoming, as orderly as a village home expecting guests, a country groaning under the lash of the tyrannical Brothers Grimm (as our hero will discover a bit later on, they are pictured on the 1,000 deutsche mark note). The pale man meets a wide range of interesting characters such as Poles, employers, and crawling airplanes, as well as a mysterious...