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excerpt Paul Dunca found himself asking not what has become of the baron, which would have been an equally ludicrous question, but at least still possible at the time, but:How is the baron?The girl burst into a loud laughter and that was her only answer, and Paul Dunca understood

excerpt  I wasn't wrong. In every woman, more than in a man, lies a history. But I have never in my life heard a shorter one, although the events in it could very well be enough for someone, their entire life. Could Nutzi have felt that I wasn't able to listen

excerpt They wandered about the villages around Bucharest, the old man leading the way, Paraschiv right behind him. They went to Bolintin, to Catzelu, eager for prey. They always went there on market days when the peasants were there, as these were the most likely victims

If we were to maintain that the erotic language as an independent writing mode has at present been obliterated from Romanian literature, we would, perhaps, make a serious overstatement, but not lie entirely: it might seem peculiar, but this European literature, which is

excerpt I was half asleep in a somewhat uncertain state of mind (and of body)… A vague and – at first – terribly tortuous state of wakefulness was gently falling over me; then, the same confounded state came back floating over me, translucent, like some veils unbraided

From the point of view of yesterday's or today's reader, it is for sure – yet again! – a matter of code: one accepts it or not. If the education and the cultural concepts we operate with intuitively tell us that certain art forms are not tolerable, that certain

The specific world of 1960-70-80's novels contains nuclei of anomaly, curiosity and specificity that are unrepeatable in the history of a literature. An entire gallery of 'wax figures' – children and teenagers, workers and intellectuals, aristocrats and

The 20th of April 1920Pynx will undoubtedly arrive soon, just like he arrived yesterday and every day, every week and every month of every of the last years. Fever and anxiety infringe upon the depth of feelings. My home? What do I call home? It is wherever I am; it is,

One should add to the romantic universe of Berlioz, Chopin, Liszt and Wagner the love story of Maria Cantacuzino and the composer George Enescu, as the mystery of its extraordinary tension has been revealed in the recently published Ombres et lumières, Souvenirs d'une

excerpt Yes, she is thoroughly preoccupied with each client's history. It is a sort of sadism of hers or an imaginary compensation. She takes part in the emotions and ups and downs of every story. She dreams of the many Don Juans, husbands and lovers whose voluntary

excerpt Sunday finally came. The rain had stopped falling. The patients were all taken out to get some fresh air. They were all sitting side by side in their wheelchairs under a narrow canopy made of sullied cloth that was once yellow but had now been washed out by the

excerpt Close to our home there was a shop that sold sewing machines, where I used to go day after day and spend hours on end. The owner was a young boy, Eugen, who had just completed the compulsory military service and had found a way to make a living in the city by opening