Kri-ji-me fëminie

By Ardian-Christian Kyçyku

"... ky libër ka disa “mangësi”, të cilat nuk di për sa kohë do të mbeten “të pandreqshme”. Jam i detyruar të përdor edhe në këtë bisedë thonjëza të dukshme e të padukshme. I gjithë teksti ec mbi këtë vijë, mes kuptimit të parë të fjalëve dhe kuptimit të dytë, atij që është më i fshehuri, por më jetëgjati. Po rendit mangësitë: nuk është shtypur në letër; u drejtohet vetëm atyre që e dinë shqipen shumë mirë; nuk mund t’i tregohet dikujt me pak fjalë; është thellësisht i papërkthyeshëm dhe flet për krijimin letrar nga një këndvështrim që ligjet e globalizimit e trajtojnë si të tejkaluar". (Autori në intervistën “Kri-ji-me fëminie”, ose gjuha si shprehja më e lartë e frymëmarrjes", 2021 [SQ]

• Language: Gjuha shqipe
• Publisher: Ardian-Christian Kyçyku
• Release date: Oct 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9786068093918

Ardian-Christian Kyçyku

Ardian Kycyku – Pen names: Ardian-Christian Kyçyku / Kuciuk, writer in the Albanian and Romanian languages, born on the 23rd of August 1969, Pogradec, Albania. Author of more than 55 original books (novels, short stories, plays, scenarios, scientific studies, essays, anthologies, translations).Bachelor of Arts at the Tirana University (Albania), Faculty of History and Philology (Albanian Language – Albanian and Universal Literature, 1991, Diploma’s work: ‘Stefan Zweig and Sigmund Freud – communions and differences’)Doctor in Comparative and Universal Literature at the Bucharest University – ‘Directions in European Modernism and their Echo in the Interwar Period of Albanian Literature’ (1998)University Professor (Semiotics and stylistics of Theatre / Albanian Literature). Between 2008 and 2020 he was a dean and a rector.Since 1998 he is the co-founder and co-director of European Review “Haemus”, which has an archive of over 9.000 pages.Founding member of the Albanian Cultural Association “Haemus”B o o k s written and published in Albanian:In the empire of stone, novel, Tirana 1993The Death Family, novel, Pristina1998, Tirana 2020The Night After Year Zero, novel, Pristina1999The Muse of the Game, trilogy, Bucharest 1999The Translation or the Life of a Slave that doesn’t Swear He Can See, novel, Bucharest 1999The Rivers of Sahara, novel, Tirana 2000, Bucharest 2010, Pristina2017The Appetite for Heaven Bread, novel, Tirana 2000Diva or Flowers Devourer, novel, Elbasan 2000Useless Angels, novel, Pristina2002The Crystal and the hyenas, novel, Pristina2002, Bucharest 2015Eyes, novel, Bucharest 2004, Pristina2005, Tirana 2008The conquest of Crazystan, short stories, Pristina2004Instead of Eternity, play, Pristina2007Home, novel, Pristina/ Berlin 2014Kiss Me You, Skeleton, Bucharest 2007The viceBook, play, Bucharest 2007The Neutral Blood, play, Bucharest 2008The Father, novel, Bucharest 2008, Tirana 2017Your Excellency, play, Pristina2009One world away, play, Bucharest 2012Pearl/s, selected short stories, Pogradec 2012Unseen stories, short stories, Pristina/ Bucharest 2013Ki$land – a novel with childhood, Tirana 2014Like, play, Bucharest 2016, Pristina2017Trialogue [an interdisciplinary work regarding the links between literature and exile and the languages it chooses in order to protect Memory and Metaphor], 365 pages in academic format, in Albanian, with abstracts in Romanian and English, Bucharest 2016, work-in-progressIncógnito [Fragments from the life of guardians and vice versa], novel, Tirana 2016The Threshold or Death writes with two hands, novel, Bucharest 2019Homo ex machina – three plays, 2019Anonima or Tirana in the shadow of a passenger, 2020Childhood cr(imes)ations, 2021B o o k s written and published in Romanian:The year in which the Swan was Invented, novel, Bucharest 1997The Sweet Secret of Madness, 33 proses + 22 original graphics, Bucharest 1998A Glorious and Dying Tribe – The Saga of an Oblivion, Bucharest 1998Love at Last Sight, stories and a play, Bucharest 2000Epigone God, monograph, Timisoara – Bratislava, 2000Trilogy, three novels, Bucharest 2002An alphabet of Albanian poetry (anthology, 101 Albanian poets in Romanian), Bucharest 2003Time of the Substitutes, interview, Bucharest 2003Siege – a novel with very few inverted commas, Bucharest 2004, 2007Ex – novel with love & conspiracy, Bucharest 2008, 2010Introduction to Semiotics, university lectures, Constanta 2005The Signs and the Citadel, university lectures, Bucharest 2007Empatycon or The Book of Premature Life, novel, Bucharest 2008Space for a only one doll – a film to be narrated / a story to be filmed, Bucharest 2008The sky in an envelope – a film to be narrated / a story to be filmed, Bucharest 2010Casting or the Curtain doesn't separate anything anymore, play, Bucharest 2011My last Million, anthology of Balkan literary texts, 2013Comunicare in-humanum est, interdisciplinary studies, Bucharest 2014Outism and Insomnia, interdisciplinary studies, Bucharest 2014The Epocalypse, novel, Bucharest 2014Instead of Eternity, play, 2015A grammar of Exile [in two "foreign" languages], essay, 2015The genre – a play with an act and a murder, play, 2019Prompters’ exodus – stereodrama, 2022* Books and / or fragments translated in Hungarian, Italian, English, German, Serbian, French, Greek etc.Long, medium and short film scriptsThe Supplement – The Movie of a Return / The Return of a Movie (AL), The Rhyme (AL), A Guide (RO), Relationshop (RO) – film / ballet play, Sticking (RO)Short and very short films (as Scriptwriter, Cinematographer and Editor)A bridge, Lines, The Seat, Barlove, A lesson, the Point, Librorum, Umbra ex machina, Dearection, Tubim (rrëfilm – AL) / Assembly, A Facemap, Lost masterpiece/s, Mirrors in progress – A short semiotic view on the Ingmar Bergman phenomenon – on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCqZvBFEl5VIeO_rg-iM5GBQVideolectures: https://keynema.blogspot.com[Awards and honors: National Literary Prize of Albania ‘Silver Pen’, Tirana 2013; Honorary Citizen of Pogradec 2014; Kult Academy Prize ‘The best book / The best author’, Tirana 2015 and 2018; Prize II ‘Katarina Josip’ for Albanian Original Drama, Pristina2016; Grand Prix at Très Court International Film Festival – Cluj-Napoca 2017; Ambassador of the Nation, Tirana 2019]R e f e r e n c e s:[Ardian-Christian Kyçyku is a writer of Albanian descent, who settled in Romania in 1991. He wrote 20 novels in Albanian, and, during the last 10 years, he published a few novels and stories in a perfectly assimilated Romanian language. In Albania, he is vaguely known; here, in Romania, not even that. But his books are a revelation. I will mention here his recently published novel A Dying, Glorious Tribe (1998). In culturally normal conditions, Kyçyku would be seen as an Eastern-European Marquez. But he is just considered an "artistic brain," transferred from Albania to Romania. And he has the weird status "between a professional cultural renegade and an old cosmopolitan," as he defines himself.I consider him a Romanian writer, in a space that used to be called Thracia a long time ago, from the Carpathians to his Illyria. Kyçyku is the wonder child of a Romania remembering she was once Thracia... and who is today stressed out because she cannot find any collapsing or perhaps redemption allies.Plural Magazine, Romania's Thracian Memory, Bucharest, Vasile Andru][33 episodes from a saga that is foretokening a new Balkan mythology, a violent and sensual structure which perverts the logos by its hyperbole and oxymoron in the guise of imperceptible lows; 33 steps towards the age of salvation and of the redemption of the sins on the cross that is adulated with a fervor which does not excludes the polemic; 33 punching pieces which transforms the history into a poem and the poem into the life of a poet maddened with the world’s madness. What could be sweeter than this mystery which seems that it is writing by itself? Ardian-Christian Kyçyku is one of the great revelations of the contemporary prose.art Panorama, Bucharest, Dan-Silviu Boerescu][This suave rowdy intellectual is doomed to remain the same lucid ultra sensitive person, a modern aéd of the incessantly shaken times from this accursed part of the world. The young prose writer, as some people called him, is actually old and haunted like Balkans. But he is a peaceful haunted man, who is moving among the Sweet secrets of the birth and of the death, of the Beginning and the End, disdainfully as if he were an undying man or as if he were a rational being that has come from another world.Romanian Reality, Bucharest, Corneliu Vlad][Ardian-Christian Kyçyku: there must not lose sight of the event character of his presence now and here, in the Romanian literature, generally speaking. He is not an Albanian who writes in Romanian (...) but an Albanian writer on the all strength of the world, who decided to write into Romanian repeating, in a way, the experience of Panait Istrati. Ardian-Christian Kyçyku is a Panait Istrati of the Albanian literature who has chosen the Romanian instead of the French language.The Day, Bucharest, Mircea Martin][(...) He has been lying in wait for a few years, in the Bucharest town of Romania, and almost each year, he brings out a novel from his literary “factory”. We are speaking about novels of an extraordinary and incontestable value, such as Eyes, Superfluous Angels, Home and actually, all the books this inspired man of the Albanian letters has written (...). Let the jury from Stockholm and the wide public opinion find out that the young Albanian writer, Ardian-Christian Kyçyku, is going to be one day the “rapper”, even younger than Orhan Pamuk maybe, of that high distinction in literature, of that sometimes “rebellious” reward, called Nobel.The Voice, Prishtina; TemA, Tirana, Bajram Sefaj][This is what A.-Ch. Kyçyku does: he feeds us with stories of a kind of enchantment very closed to that one belonging to “One Thousand and One Nights”. It is not only the enchantment the fact that brings them together, but also the tension experienced by the narrator, a tension induced by the realization of the failure which can be fatal (both to the narrator and to the listener). We have to reckon with a writer who forces his limits without any mercy, who does not feel the need to spare anybody and so much the less to spare himself. [...] .A visionary fiction writer, of an amazing force, he practices a real maieutics applied to the universal memory and he can not help drilling into the stone depths of the myth for drawing out the bloody result with his both arms and for throwing it in front of us with a torrent of parables designated to hide rather than to reveal. It always astonishes the natural process (in this case) through which the universal distopia comes into being in an “environment” so much placed in the normality.Sunday’s Newspaper, Bucharest, Bogdan Alexandru Stănescu][Ardian-Christian Kyçyku has even now arrived faraway, and very upwards with his literary work. There, to the faraway and to the very upwards not those with powerful legs for walking and those who know to cut figures can arrive, but those that the destiny has chosen them. And fortunately, the destiny rarely and faultlessly chooses.Athena’s Newspaper, Athens; TemA, Tirana, Hiqmet Meçaj][Beyond the “magic realism” that seems to characterize the epic substance (and the ontological vision) of his prose works (an unusual mixture between a realism, sometimes a violent one, lacking illusions, of a Cioranian kind, and a “fabulous” imagination, a folklore, mythical and raving one, from a “suspended time” which makes an outsized reality and which intensified it in the same way as it happens in the Eliade’s literary world) it surprises also the unprecedented expressivity of the Romanian language used by Ardian-Christian Kyçyku in his writings, as though he tacitly transgressed the entire occult sigh of the Albanian language into the adopted language.Romanian Messenger, Bucharest, Ştefan Ioanid][Ardian-Christian Kyçyku has two literary home countries, glorified by him in everything he writes. For Albany he feels the responsibility one has in front of his birth and first words place. Romania is a spiritual option that he could never change with anything else. As a writer who has come from a realm mirrored into the mythical Ohrid, and from a maiming, wild ideological repression, his prose’s history is actually the triumph of a huge talent.The Day, Bucharest, Iolanda Malamen][...The writer seems to strengthen the fact that small countries and their languages of a limited circulation can offer important authors and extraordinary books as a unique chance for entering into the European circulation of values, for compelling recognition to the European consciousness (...). The Glorious and Dying Tribe is a fundamental book of Albania, written in the Romanian language as though Romanian became suddenly one of the official languages of UNO. The author’s option is a bet made with Romanian language and finally won. In this way the interested Romanian speakers have the possibility to know everything about Albania and especially about the Albanian soul through its mythical-poetic avatars. They have no more to do but to read The Glorious and Dying Tribe. There are fierce and pagan scenes with a great plasticity that alternate with scenarios of a kind of fabulous which is contiguous to transcendentalism, to hyper sense of perception or to bibloskagathia.”Romanian Life, Bucharest, Geo Vasile][Being of only 35 years old and owning a vital, rarely met disquietude, Ardian-Christian Kyçyku has left 21 volumes for the cultures of the two countries:12 in the Albanian language and 9 in Romanian (these last ones were written in only eight years). In spite of a “diplomatic” and hesitating silence of the autochthonous specialized criticism, both facts, of being considered and suited on the same level with a talented writer such as Ismail Kadare, in his origin country, and also of being assimilated with a kind of writer such as Márquez (and thus being called “Márquez of the Balkans”), in Romania, could say a lot and it even does this. After all, we have to reckon with a great prose writer of whom we should be proud he is breathing around. I assert this with all the honesty I am capable of after I have read greedily four volumes (appeared in the Romanian language, of course), each time mumbling the bitter taste of a reading that seems too quickly ended one. I assert this after I have read The Glorious and Dying Tribe (the epopee of an oblivion), an extraordinary book, a real Balkan epopee of a world rate, a book that any literature, no matter how great it is, would be proud with.Agora On-line, Paul Vinicius][Arriving at the Dantesque half of his life, Ardian-Christian Kyçyku has such a bibliography that the Romanian writing seniors would envy him. The literary Tirana, fettered by a schizophrenically dictatorship of the highest level, was giving the national award to Kyçyku as far back as 1988, for the novel The Triumph of Proteus. A symbolic title! This because Proteus is the author himself, with his vacillation between short story and novel, between literature and painting, philology and theology, poetry and journalism. This row of the doublets could continue. It has been said, using a fortunate formula, that this Albanian settled down in Romania, might be called “Márquez of he Balkans”. It is true, but his prose which is sometimes laconic, sometimes voluminous, clear up not only the narrow geography of an accursed space, but also the authentic human-being condition. Kyçyku is a philosopher deep inside his soul. He is a philosopher for whom the world has no longer had secrets, even if it is hiding into the darkness for the time being.Adam Publishing House, Bucharest, Ioan Adam][Therefore, you esteem reader are in front of an exceptional writing. It is a writing of a man descended from the aerie of the eagles. It is a writing which belongs to a man willing to impart us the secrets of gods.Siege, first edition, Bucharest, Val Popa]

Book preview

Ardian-Christian Kyçyku

Krijime fëminie

Të lus, o Lajmës Qielluar!

O Frym’ e Zotit, vetë Zot!

Me hirin tënd të pashteruar

Që ka mburim përjetësije

Hirplot, o Shpirt, nër gaze Ti-je

E nër mjerime je Hirplot!

Lasgush Poradeci, Shpirtit (Ode)

Librarium Haemus

Ballina: KÜdesin, sipas një punimi të autorit

Bukuresht 2021

Pasqyra e Lëndës

Ballkan – e tashmja e pakryer

Zogj për ushqim / ushqim për zogj

Roje falas dhe ujdira

Armë, shenja pikësimi, ideale

Koka të pangrëna

Gjuheti’

Gjuheshtja

Ballkan – e tashmja e pakryer

Shkëlqimi i shqiponjës u zbeh kur mora vesh se paskësh vrarë Eskilin. Dija vetëm që pat qenë shkrimtar me emër i Greqisë së Lashtë; dyzet vjet më pas, në një nga ato periudhat kur je i tejmbushur me letërsi, që të duket jetë, dhe bindesh se s’ka mbetur gjë e madhe për t’u shijuar, me kokë burri e mendje fëmije, pandeha se jo shqiponja, por frymëzimi, i fyer, ose i stërlodhur, duke veshur trup e sqep e flatra shqiponje, e kish ndëshkuar për arsye që i di vetëm Vdekja.

Nuk mbaj mend kush më njoftoi për vdekjen e dhunshme të Eskilit; ende nuk ëndërroja t’ia hyja letërsisë; nuk kisha lexuar asnjë rresht nga Eskili; pse vdekja e një shkrimtari të vdekur aq herët, kur ne s’ishim as cicërima zogjsh, si të thuash, më prishi gjumin?!

I shkrova tim eti (që tashmë fliste rrjedhshëm tetë gjuhë të huaja) dhe e luta të hapte njërin nga vegimet e fëminisë sime, Larousse-in, ose të shkonte në Bibliotekën Kombëtare, për të marrë vesh si e qysh.

Gjatë javës që rodhi deri në ardhjen e përgjigjes, nuk arrita ta kujtoja lajmësin e vrasjes së Eskilit, por më tërbonte kënaqësia e tij, - shpërndarë aq dinakërisht në të gjithë tiparet, tingujt e gjestet, sa ia fshihnin fytyrën dhe emrin në harrim, - dhe gati qaja nga marazi. Më vonë e bekova, por ato ditë turfulloja. Ishte hera e parë kur shihja se si e keqja i ruan kasnecët e vet, duke ua zëvendësuar fytyrat dhe emrat me ëndjen që ndjejnë kur plagosin ndokënd.

Nuk di nga cila gjuhë i pat marrë të dhënat im atë. Por mbaj mend se m’u përgjigj gjatë, me shkrimin e përsosur, që ruante edhe mençurinë, edhe mallin plot dhimbsuri, edhe rrezëllitjet e fëminisë. Po, për fat të keq, Eskili qënka vrarë nga një shqiponjë, në qytetthin bregdetar Gela të Siçilisë. Të paktën kështu thoshte gojëdhana. Shqiponjës nuk ia dinte njeri emrin, ose nuk kish pasur emër. Asnjë shkrimtar nuk pat shkruar për të, ose pat shkruar, por vepra përkatëse ende llogaritej e humbur. Ndoshta qe djegur në Bibliotekën e Aleksandrisë. Nuk dihej as nëse ndokush e pat ndëshkuar shqiponjën për krimin e pashembullt që ishte aq krijim. Në fakt, gjërat kishin qenë mjaft të mjegullta, as sa qe gjithaq e vështirë të padisje shqiponjën, sa ç’qe edhe e pamundur të shpëtoje Eskilin. Më saktë: një shqiponjë e lashtë, joshqiptare, - ndonëse kufijtë e lashtësisë nuk përputheshin kaherë me të tanishmit, - kish kapur një breshkë. Mbase i qe shpifur mëlçia a shpretka e Prometeut. Mirpo, që të mund ta shijonte, duhej ta shkulte breshkën nga zhgualli. Ndaj edhe, me zgjuarsinë e njohur, shqiponja qe endur në ajër për të gjetur një gur të madh, ose ndonjë shkëmb, ku të përplaste breshkën. Pikërisht në ato çaste, nën shqiponjë po kalonte Eskili. Sapo qe ndarë nga një orakull, i cili e kish këshilluar të rrinte sa më shumë nëpër fusha ose vise të pabanuara, se vdekja do t’i vinte nga shembja e një shtëpie. Eskilit i patën rënë flokët me kohë, në atdhe. Koka e tij iu duk shqiponjës si gur, ose si shkëmb vezak. Një si i thjeshtë mund të vriste gjer edhe Eskilin. Si-shkëmbi, ose si-guri vepruan si gur e si shkëmb. Ndodh që shqiponja ta ketë parë Eskilin me njërin sy, se zogjtë nuk shihnin dot diçka të plotë veçse me të dy sytë. Breshka duhej të kish qenë vërtet e madhe, nga ato që rrojnë gati aq, ose më gjatë se shqiponjat, sepse zhgualli i breshkës, për fat të keq, doli më i fortë se kafka e Eskilit, sado që ky njihej ndër sivëllezër, adhurues e sundimtarë si „kokëshkëmb". Shqiponja qe ulur të hante breshkën, duke lënë mënjanë Eskilin, të cilit, - tek jepte frymën e fundit, ose pandehte se shqiponja po vjen t’ia marrë shpirtin për t’ia çuar në qiej, - mërgimi mund t’i qe dukur si një shtëpi më vete.

Por edhe po të kish dashur, shqiponja s’kish si t’ia shpëtonte më jetën Eskilit, sepse breshka, e bindur që shpëtoi gjallë, kish mbaruar punë me shpejtësinë e një zogu apo rrufeje. Vërtet njiheshin raste kur zogjtë patën shpëtuar njerëz nga rreziqe për vdekje, por jo edhe nga vetë Vdekja.

Ajo vdekje nuk dukej sajesa e ndonjë shkrimtari smirëzi, përjashto rastin kur ky ishte ndonjëri nga gjenitë e