Meeting with Angel Igov, The Meek, Rene Karabash, She Who Remains, and their translator Marie Vrinat-Nikolov, Lyon, France, March 28th 2024 This article summarizes the following Bulgarian literary meeting: "Two voices of contemporary Bulgarian literature". The two voices are those of Angel Igor for his historical novel The Meek and Rene Karabash for her fictive biography She Who Remains. There was a third voice, this of their French translator Marie Vrinat-Nikolov. Presentation of the meeting On Thursday, 28 March 2024, at 7 p.m., the Terre des Livre bookshop in Lyon hosted the literary event "Two Voices of Contemporary Bulgarian Literature". Hosted by their translator, Marie Vrinat-Nikolov, Angel Igov and Rene Karabash spoke about their novels. Around thirty people attended the one-hour-and-a-half event. That was more than expected! So, excellent news. This Bulgarian literature event featured the novels The Meek by Angel Igov and She Who Remains by Rene Karabash. Both authors were present. The Terre des Livres bookshop organized the meeting in partnership with the Bulgarian Cultural Institute of Paris. Another book presented (without its author) but linked to the theme of the evening was ViktorPaskov’s Germany obscene tale. Presentation of the books and the three speakers The historical novel The Meek is the fruit of extensive research. Its protagonist, the poet Emil Strezov, becomes one of the judges of People’s Court, set up in Bulgaria between 1944 and 1945. This court condemned thousands  of dissidents" and opponents to the new Soviet regime in power at the time, including death sentences. The story then follows the evolution of Strezov, whose power is going to his head. The novel is in Bulgarian and translated into German, Macedonian, and French. She Who Remains is a fictive biography by Rene Karabash. The story set in Albania is the monologue (stream of awareness) of Matia, formerly Bekia. On the eve of her wedding, Bekia is raped and decides to become a sworn virgin. She renounces her identity as a woman and takes on the status and role of a man under the name "Matia". It provoked her fiancé's honor and the kanun (a set of Albanian traditional laws), leading to a vendetta. The novel, written in Bulgarian, has been translated into Bosnian, Macedonian, French, Polish, and Arabic. Marie Vrinat-Nikolov moderated the meeting "Power and its abuses" as the central theme of the evening. The discussion revolved around History and how it interferes with everyone's personal (hi)story. Punctuated by readings of excerpts in Bulgarian and French, the talks between the three speakers revealed the authors’ inspirations and writing processes. The Meek, Angel Igov The author of The Meek shares the three main reasons that inspired him to write his novel. The first was a comment he heard one day from someone close to his father. This person mentioned his participation in the People’s Court as a young judge. He then insisted on convicting a defendant who, in the end, was not that guilty. The second reason is that Angel is very interested in this period of Bulgarian History. The third reason is that this moment in Bulgarian History, particularly 1944-1945, is crucial to study and speak about. The subjects of the People’s Court and the Communist period in Bulgaria have already been documented. However, they had yet to be a subject in literature or fiction. The author consulted many archives related to this court to write his novel. One of the primary sources he used was the newspapers of that time. Angel said, "Yesterday's newspapers are always more interesting than today's". This applies even more to research purposes. During his research, the rise of fascism and the cruelty of youth were what caught his attention the most. The majority of the tribunal's members were (very) young. Nevertheless, Angel emphasizes this several times: neither History nor human beings are black or white. Indeed, his book does not present a Manichean vision of events or characters. The figures, motivations, and motives of the members of this tribunal are diverse. Some took part out of opportunism, careerism, or a desire for revenge. Or for power, death, or a way to escape poverty. And sometimes for several reasons at once. This illustrates that History and individual stories bear several dimensions. History and stories are not abstract but very concrete. And The Meek shows that. She Who Remains, Rene Karabash Like Angel Igov, the author of She Who Remains, led much research over two years. She did it through books (including Broken April by Ismail Kadare) and rare interviews of sworn virgins. Rene wanted to travel to Albania, but it was difficult and risky. It didn't prevent her from writing a realistic book. Indeed, Albania's specialists at Sofia University believed she had gone there to document and conduct her research. Rene Karabash shares her inspirations and motivations with us. Through this book, she wanted to document violence, one of the facets of a patriarchal society. Although extreme in this case, the author, who grew up in the Bulgarian countryside, comments that the background is the same whether you're in Albania, Bulgaria, or elsewhere. Society is violent, and patriarchal society is violent. This violence and the trauma it produces are very vivid in the narration of She Who Remains. The author describes her narration as "schizophrenic". Written without full stops or capitals, Matia’s stream of awareness/consciousness and words are punctuated only by commas. The protagonist opens up, tells his story, and tells what's inside of him and has to be told. And this is precisely what Rene warns us about: is the protagonist reliable? What is true in this stream of memories and thoughts? The comments Rene received for her novel are all robust, full of shock and pity. They evoke the violence of the subject and the traumas often shared. The author would have liked illiterate people who are frequently the victims of trauma and have less opportunity to talk about it to read her book. The aim would have been to see their reactions and feelings about the(ir) story. Voices: The translator Marie Vrinat-Nikolov Marie Vrinat-Nikolov, the foremost translator of Bulgarian literature into French, also reveals some aspects of her work regarding translating these two books and shares her concerns, questions, and difficulties. For The Meek in particular, but this applies to all translations, she stresses the importance of sound and sonority. She uses the announcement of the condemned death's sentence as an example. In Bulgarian, смърт (read "smurt" with a rolled R) sounds sharp and violent. Both "death" and "(la) mort" in French sound less sudden and tragic. However, using another translation for this word would have modified the wanted effect in Bulgarian, which is nonetheless conveyed in French. Of course, for She Who Remains, it was necessary to keep Matia's stream of consciousness and, therefore, of words. The character spits out his thoughts and overwhelms us with violent memories. The effect these memories have on the reader is multiplied by the words, which follow one another without a pause, moment to breathe, or even to catch a breath. Conclusion This Bulgarian literary meeting with Angel Igov and his novel The Meek and Karabash's She Who Remains marks the revival of the meetings organized by the bookshop Terre des Livres. From the number of interested participants present on Thursday evening, everyone could see that both Bulgarian literature AND events of this kind attract many people. The bookshop, the organizers, the speakers, the editors, and the public all deserve our thanks. We can only hope that others such event will happen in the future.

In the annals of World War II, the Partisan movement in Albania stands as a testament to the indomitable spirit of resistance and the quest for liberation. Born out of the crucible of occupation and oppression, the Albanian Partisans emerged as a formidable force against fascist tyranny, forging a path towards freedom and national sovereignty. Occupied by Italian forces in 1939 and subsequently by Nazi Germany in 1943, Albania found itself caught in the crossfire of global conflict. Yet, amidst the chaos and despair, a new chapter in Albanian history was written — one of courage, sacrifice, and unwavering determination to reclaim the nation's destiny. The roots of the Partisan movement can be traced back to the early days of occupation when a diverse coalition of patriots, communists, nationalists, and ordinary citizens united in resistance against foreign domination. Led by figures such as Enver Hoxha, Mehmet Shehu, and others, the Partisans embarked on a daring struggle for liberation, confronting the might of fascist armies with guerrilla tactics and popular mobilization. Central to the Partisan ethos was the belief in the power of the people — the conviction that ordinary men and women, united in common cause, could overcome even the most formidable adversaries. Drawing strength from Albania's rich history of resistance against foreign invaders, the Partisans tapped into a deep well of national pride and solidarity, rallying people from all walks of life to join the fight for freedom. The rugged terrain of Albania's mountains became both sanctuary and battleground for the Partisans, providing refuge from enemy patrols and a strategic advantage in their guerrilla warfare tactics. Operating in small, mobile units, they launched ambushes, sabotaged enemy supply lines, and rallied support from rural communities, turning the tide of war in their favor. But the Partisan struggle was not just a military campaign; it was also a social revolution — a movement to overturn centuries of feudal oppression and build a more just and egalitarian society. Through their actions, the Partisans sought to empower the disenfranchised, elevate the status of women, and promote education and literacy among the masses. One of the most remarkable aspects of the Albanian Partisan movement was its ability to transcend ethnic and religious divisions, uniting Albanians of all backgrounds in a common struggle for liberation. In a region plagued by ethnic tensions and sectarian violence, the Partisans stood as a beacon of unity and solidarity, embodying the ideal of "Albania for Albanians." The culmination of the Partisan struggle came in November 1944, when the combined forces of the Partisans and the Allied powers liberated Albania from fascist rule, heralding a new era of independence and self-determination. Yet, the victory came at a great cost, with thousands of Partisans sacrificing their lives in the fight for freedom. Today, the legacy of the Albanian Partisan movement lives on as a symbol of courage and resilience, inspiring future generations to stand up against injustice and oppression. As Albania continues its journey towards democracy and development, the spirit of the Partisans remains a guiding light, reminding us of the power of ordinary people to shape their own destiny and forge a better tomorrow.

In the annals of history, the Yugoslav Wars stand as a stark reminder of humanity's capacity for destruction and despair. Amidst the chaos and carnage, however, another narrative emerges — one of resilience, courage, and the unyielding spirit of women who stood at the forefront of struggle and survival. In the crucible of conflict, feminism in Yugoslavia took on new dimensions, challenging traditional gender roles, and reshaping the contours of power and resistance. As the flames of war engulfed the Balkans in the 1990s, women found themselves thrust into the heart of the maelstrom, bearing the brunt of violence and displacement. In the face of unimaginable horrors, they became agents of change, catalysts for transformation in a society torn apart by ethnic strife and nationalist fervor. Throughout history, women have often been relegated to the margins of war, their voices silenced, their experiences overlooked. Yet, in Yugoslavia, they refused to be mere bystanders to history. From Sarajevo to Srebrenica, from Zagreb to Pristina, women mobilized, organized, and resisted, demanding justice, dignity, and peace. In the midst of chaos, feminist movements emerged as beacons of hope, challenging patriarchal structures and advocating for gender equality in all spheres of life. Women's organizations sprang up across the region, providing vital support networks for survivors of sexual violence, refugees, and displaced persons. They became centers of empowerment, offering education, counseling, and legal assistance to women grappling with the trauma of war. But feminism in Yugoslavia was not confined to the realm of activism; it permeated the very fabric of everyday life, reshaping relationships, identities, and aspirations. In the makeshift refugee camps that dotted the landscape, women became the backbone of survival, nurturing families, tending to the wounded, and rebuilding shattered communities from the ground up. Their resilience was a testament to the indomitable human spirit, a testament to the power of solidarity in the face of adversity. In the ruins of war, they found strength in sisterhood, forging bonds that transcended ethnic divisions and ideological differences. Together, they confronted the injustices of war, demanding accountability for crimes committed against women and girls, and calling for an end to impunity. Feminism in Yugoslavia was not without its challenges and contradictions. In a region steeped in patriarchal traditions and conservative values, the struggle for gender equality was often met with resistance and backlash. Women who dared to defy societal norms and assert their rights faced ostracism, violence, and even death. Yet, they refused to be silenced, defying the forces of oppression with unwavering determination and resilience. As we reflect on the legacy of feminism in Yugoslavia, let us remember the countless women who refused to be victims of war, who turned their pain into power, and their suffering into solidarity. Theirs is a legacy of resilience, courage, and hope — a legacy that continues to inspire generations of feminists around the world in the ongoing struggle for justice and equality.

In the tumultuous landscape of the Yugoslav Wars, amidst the chaos and brutality, another lesser-known narrative emerges — the plight of LGBT individuals who found themselves doubly marginalized and persecuted in the midst of conflict. While the wars in the former Yugoslavia have been extensively documented, the experiences of LGBT people remain largely overlooked, their stories buried beneath the rubble of history. Yet, their struggle for survival and their fight for recognition and rights amidst the horrors of war deserve recognition and remembrance. During the 1990s, as Yugoslavia descended into a series of bloody conflicts marked by ethnic cleansing and widespread violence, LGBT individuals faced persecution on multiple fronts. In the hyper-masculine and conservative societies of the Balkans, where traditional gender roles were deeply entrenched, homosexuality was often viewed as taboo, deviant, and immoral. As such, LGBT people were not only targeted by nationalist forces seeking to purge their perceived enemies but also ostracized and stigmatized by their own communities. The war unleashed a wave of hyper-nationalism and toxic masculinity that further exacerbated the marginalization of LGBT individuals. In this volatile environment, where identity was weaponized and difference was demonized, LGBT people became convenient scapegoats, symbols of moral decay and cultural contamination. They were subjected to harassment, violence, and discrimination, forced to conceal their identities and live in fear of discovery. For many LGBT people, the struggle for survival meant hiding in the shadows, camouflaging their true selves behind a facade of conformity. They navigated a perilous landscape where exposure could mean death or persecution, where intimacy was a luxury and love was a risk. In the face of unimaginable adversity, they forged hidden networks of solidarity and support, finding refuge in the company of fellow outcasts and allies. However, amidst the darkness, there were also moments of resilience and resistance. Despite the pervasive climate of fear, LGBT individuals dared to assert their humanity, to reclaim their dignity, and to demand recognition and rights. In the midst of chaos, they organized clandestine gatherings, created underground publications, and formed advocacy groups, defying the forces of hatred and intolerance. Their struggle for visibility and acceptance continued long after the guns fell silent. In the turbulent aftermath of war, as the region grappled with the legacy of conflict and the challenges of transition, LGBT activists emerged as voices of courage and conscience, advocating for equality, justice, and inclusion. They fought against discrimination in all its forms, challenging societal norms and pushing for legal reforms to protect the rights of LGBT individuals. Yet, the road to equality remains long and arduous. In many parts of the former Yugoslavia, LGBT people still face entrenched prejudice, social stigma, and legal barriers to full inclusion and participation. The struggle for acceptance is ongoing, a testament to the resilience and determination of those who refuse to be silenced or sidelined. As we reflect on the legacy of the Yugoslav Wars, let us not forget the voices and experiences of those who have been marginalized and forgotten. Let us honor the courage and resilience of LGBT individuals who dared to love in a time of hate, who dared to hope in a time of despair. Their stories remind us of the enduring power of the human spirit and the imperative of solidarity in the face of adversity. In their struggle, we find inspiration, and in their resilience, we find hope for a more just and inclusive future.