Bulgaria

Tuesday

Francesca Peacock

Life’s little graces: Small Rain, by Garth Greenwell, reviewed

Garth Greenwell has made a name for himself as a chronicler of touch. In his previous novels, What Belongs to You (2016) and Cleanness (2020), the intimacy of a lover’s hand or the frisson of something much darker – the spit, the slap of a BDSM session – could expand to fill whole paragraphs: stories in themselves of layered sensation and reminiscence. Early in the opening sequence of Small Rain, the unnamed narrator spends close to two pages musing on the ‘shock’ of when a nurse ‘softly stroked or rubbed my ankle’. But now the touch is different. This is not a novel of sexual escapades, but pain – like

Tuesday

Mark Cocker

The Karakachan sheepdog is a match for any bear – but not for modern society

Kapka Kassabova is celebrated for her poetic accounts of rural communities dwelling at the margins of modernity, but also along a border zone in the southern extremity of her native Bulgaria. In her previous book, Elixir, her chosen people were the Muslim Pomaks of the Rhodope Mountains, with their ancient herbalist traditions. In Anima, she explores the world of transhumance pastoralists, known in Bulgarian as the Karakachan and in Greek as the Sarakatsani. It is not so long ago that the Greek component of this extraordinary sheep-herding tribe acquired cultural cachet in this country. American and English anthropologists hurried off to study and write about them (notably J.K. Campbell in

Alan Judd

The assassination of Georgi Markov bore all the hallmarks of a Russian wet job

In September 1978 Georgi Markov, a Bulgarian émigré writer, waited at a bus stop on Waterloo Bridge on his way to work at the BBC World Service. Feeling a sting in his right thigh, he looked round to see the man behind him picking up his apparently fallen umbrella. The man apologised in a foreign accent and hastily crossed the road where he hailed a taxi. Markov felt feverish that night, was admitted to hospital and within four days was dead. ‘The bastards poisoned me,’ he told doctors, as they struggled to identify what was wrong with him. ‘The bastards poisoned me,’ Markov told doctors, as they struggled to identify

Sunday

Carson Becker

Bulgarian Tsar: the West is not in decline

Bulgaria has rarely been the master of its own fate. Throughout history, neighbouring powers have often succeeded in imposing their will upon it. Nevertheless, Bulgaria has endured. There are few who can attest this with greater authority than Simeon II, who reigned as Bulgaria’s last Tsar from 1943 to 1946 and returned, after five decades of communist-imposed exile, to be elected Prime Minister between 2001 and 2005. In a meeting at Vrana Palace in Sofia, the 86-year-old former monarch told me that Bulgaria has missed a chance to mediate between the West and Russia.  Simeon inherited the throne from his father, the modest, self-effacing Tsar Boris III, who died under

Tuesday

Gerri Peev

Meet the punk comic taking on Bulgaria’s elite

Inconclusive election results following a snap election; a politician at the helm who made his name on satirical TV shows; a football fanbase condemned for its racism; and a population that has a polarised attitude to the EU. Bulgaria perhaps has more in common with England than would first appear.  Dissatisfaction spilled over onto ballot papers this weekend during the country’s snap general election. This has culminated in a celebrity-led, anti-elitist party winning the greatest share of the vote by a whisker: 24 per cent compared to the incumbent GERB party’s 23.5 per cent. Slavi Trifonov, who has dabbled in folk-rock, hip-hop and punk music, and starred in his own political sketch shows,