Bulgaria lives with an ancient and persistent problem: its identity has been shaped less by an effort to understand what it is than by a stubborn flight from what it fears it might turn out to be. Since the late eighteenth century, the national imagination has developed as a…

Have I ever told you my own theory about the inverted perspective on happiness? It’s simple, and sounds eccentric only at first hearing. People my age, I suppose, are well acquainted with the empirical side of the matter, even if perhaps less inclined to generalise as generously…

The sky over the city hung like old laundry, worn and faded from too much washing. A fine, sharp drizzle shaved the air; people scurried along, apologizing to one another when their umbrellas touched. The bloated, pretentious building — seemingly dulled by the constant roar of…

Chapter one: Deadlock again Rain clouds, dark and puffed-up like turkeys, had been threatening to unleash their wrath on the dreary town all day, but so far had remained all threat and no action, as if to annoy everyone even more. Anne-Firecurl, herself gloomier than even the…