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SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS
NOVELS
BOOKS FOR CHILDREN
ADAPTATIONS
ANTHOLOGIES
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In this captivating collection of stories, people are often at a crossroads, somewhere between a world they know and one they feel pulled towards. Torn between past and future, centre and periphery, real and imaginary, they move from one point in their existence to another, trying to understand a life they have lived but perhaps never fully comprehended. A woman is overjoyed at the news her husband has been found dead. A crow breaks into a young couple's flat, smashing perceptions and assumptions, and a dying father sends his son on a journey to meet an old flame. A young boy builds friendships with burnt matchsticks and a widow makes her husband's manuscript her own. From the heart of the Mediterranean comes a new and exciting storyteller, a keen observer and a great collector of people's moods.
Reviews "The is a book about storytelling, not only
as a form of pleasure that is shared between writer and reader but
more importantly as a gift that's given with love and needs love
to be appreciated." "Beautifully crafted" "Mejlak's writing shows the short story genre
at its best. He confirms his reputation as an author with a penetrating
eye into the psyche and soul of fellow human beings, and does not
shy away from exploring the darker side of human nature." "Darker, intense, emotion-laden work that explores
the power of memories and nostalgia." "His best, most assured and sophisticated book
yet."
Full review When asked, during an interview, how he had hit upon the idea for his book The Name of the Rose, Umberto Eco simply replied, "I felt like poisoning a monk." That, for the semiotics professor and author, was inspiration enough. If I had the chance, I would ask the same question to author Pierre J. Mejlak. What does he feed his imagination so that, in return, it fattens his mind with storylines and populates it with memorable characters? What does his trained eye see that we don't? And that most shallow, yet nagging, of questions – why does he write? Maybe Mejlak writes to remember. After all, the stories in his latest collection, Having Said Goodnight, are spiked with memories, regret, closures from the past that the characters would like to change the ending to, and stories that are only recalled in hours of dire need. Mejlak sees a story in everyone. Underneath our costumes and routines, we all have a story, a tragedy that ends in laughter, a joke that ends in tears. And the author's role is to read us in degree zero, and then fill in the blanks between our thoughts and limbs. Mejlak finds clues – a twitch or look here, a mannerism there – and follows them until he has the whole story. Such clues enrich Mejlak's stories with intricate detail. Indeed, the author relishes minutiae – small, eavesdropping details that tell big truths. In The Ambassador, it is the ambassador's choice of perfume that first outlines, and then colours her in, in all her layers and complexities. And in Coup d’Etat, the protagonist recalls his former girlfriend's mole on her shoulders, and on that dissects a whole anatomy of loss. Back to my original question, maybe Mejlak writes
because he wants to forget. To forget how, despite living in the
age of man, the world goes on without us. As the widow in the Prologue
listens while the conversation during her husband's funeral moves
to surface realities, she realises how dispensable everyone is and
how, despite what we think, when we die, life, in all its triviality
and importance, still goes on. Stanley Borg, The Times |
