iris literary agency



In the 16th century in Crete, when the isle was under Venetian occupation, a rebel, who was sentenced to death by the authorities, escapes and finds shelter at the painter Domenicos Theotocopoulos’s atelier. His wounds still bleeding, he poses for the “Passion of Christ”, Domenicos’s last painting before he moved abroad.

What could cosmopolitan Santorini and the lost Atlantis possibly have in common? Two stories separated by thousands of years, but drawn together by something much greater. A discovery made on Santorini today could potentially change the history of the human race for ever. On this same island three and a half thousand years ago, a desperate struggle took place in legendary Atlantis; a struggle to save a people and a civilisation. The two stories and their characters run a parallel course, touching, parting and intertwining constantly, tied to the place that links them, the archaeological site of ancient Akrotiri, where both start and both end. 

A woman who works miracles. A salesgirl whose hormones go berserk. The external form of a man called Stefanos, shifts and changes continuously. A ghost returns. Charyvdis shuts herself up in her house forever, along with her no-name dog. A pair of twelve year old Siamese twins are separated. A man pounds his lover into smithereens as if he were dry herbs. A massacre at an American high school. In the midst of these tales, the author oversees the subjects of his experiments in the manner of a surgeon.  With invisible scalpels he conjoins and divides: carnivorous plants, dogs, cats, little ants, a swan, elephants, Beethoven in the sky and other sights, both familiar and eerie. And on occasion, he even enters himself into the shifting sands of the stories.

It is extremely important that my motives aren’t misconceived. I never meant to harm anybody.

I didn’t want to cause destruction. It wasn’t my aim to deprive of that which was priceless.

I sought only to liberate from that considered to be of unrivalled perfection. I perceived myself to be offering a gift, an exit, a challenge. I opened the window and saw it glowing, through its electric, orange veil. I was right. It had to fall, no matter what the cost.

The main character of the book bears no name, only the initials: H.K. He remains a teenager.

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