My last novel, 2013

The ruined reality we live in our country
and the mystery of love

                                                         GRATUITOUS AUTUMNS

Just as we sometimes dream that something eventful is happening outside our home, and we must hurry, but in our dream we are unable to tie the cord of our shoe or button up our clothes, and because of this unimportant detail we know that we miss something significant, we miss the stirring event that takes place outside our home, somewhere outside our lives, in that other reality that baffles us, that continuously slips away and disappears, just like that essential thing, which constitutes the meaning and the truth of our lives, and the agony is intense.
I have lived in a similar agony as a writer and as a human being.
Gratuitous Autumns

Short stories and personal experiences
Govostis Publications (2012)


"Short stories and personal experiences compose this volume. The miracle that can move the darkness, make possible the impossible, real the unreal. When injustice is too much, when insecurity becomes defeat, when the absurd dominates our life.
Written from Christmas to Christmas, in days when the miracle is born, they contain a fragment of light from the Sun of Justice. Or, this is what I was looking for when I was writing them.
To believe in the miracle means to liberate your soul.
Otherwise, believe in the impossible! It is like provoking the miracle."



Four theatrical plays that have never been performed on stage.


The present volume consists of five theatrical plays, as well as of commentaries and reviews, and includes an extensive introduction by the author herself.

Kedros Publications (2010)



A tribute to Maria Lampadaridou-Pothou and her work by the literary magazine THEMATA LOGOTECHNIAS (Literature Subjects).

To read the tribute (in Greek), click on the magazine cover.


Govostis Publications (2012)

"To you I return one by one the moonlights that I was granted
and those gratis autumns
the first rains of love
the view to the unspeaking
to you, Maria
from ruined time
eaten away by tears
and transpiring the old paradises."

Short stories and personal experiences
Govostis Publications (2012)


"Short stories and personal experiences compose this volume. The miracle that can move the darkness, make possible the impossible, real the unreal. When injustice is too much, when insecurity becomes defeat, when the absurd dominates our life.
Written from Christmas to Christmas, in days when the miracle is born, they contain a fragment of light from the Sun of Justice. Or, this is what I was looking for when I was writing them.
To believe in the miracle means to liberate your soul.
Otherwise, believe in the impossible! It is like provoking the miracle."


A love story taking place in one day only. During this single day, the two lovers will live the entire experience of their lives. Desire, anger, blood. To reach the absolute love that cancels death.

I tried to create a new myth of Orpheus and Euridice, which means the absolute love and its cancellation. The difference is that the two charactrs are two everyday young people who will take the myth further.

With the power of their love they will conquer Nequia (the place of death). They will enter with their bodies into the fog of the other landscape. To placate with it, to be reconciled with the inaccessible.

Govostis Publications (First Edition 2011)



Hypsipyle, the Queen of Blood brings to life a myth of thirty-three centuries and is conveyed through cycles of rituals.

Hypsipyle – the Queen of Blood

The novel Hypsipyle, the Queen of Blood brings to life a thirty-three centuries old myth, and is presented through cycles of ritual: blood, mourning, rending, catharsis, and finally love constitute the five cycles of the soul before it reaches the light.

Hypsipyle was the queen of Lemnos.
The myth transpires on Lemnos.
During the dark years of matriarchy.

An original novel created from the archetypal elements of the soul: the passion of the Lemnian women, which will lead to mass murder. And afterward mourning. Rending. Catharsis. Finally, love, as the symbol of eternal beauty.

Patakis Publications (2010)



Cover page:
SACRED SYMBOLS (in Greek edition: Moist Moonlight)
A promethean story happening in our times, in a world in which all ancient myths are dead. The Prometheus of the novel, a student in mathematics, is the innocent one who must save the Sacred Chart, an archaic relic with symbols of genetic secrets, which will relieve the human being from suffering.
Endangering his own life, Prometheus will salvage this precious relic, engraved with sacred symbols – secrets of the immortality of the gods. But this relic will become the target of ruthless interests. At last, Prometheus succeeds in salvaging the ancient knowledge and offering it to people. And people punish him.
"Now you must find the courage born from ultimate despair, become addicted to chaos..."
The Sacred Symbols is a novel about fate and God, about the martyrdom of pain and the Inexplicable. A novel about "addiction to chaos" and social indolence. Ultimate despair as an obsession of existence. Or as an obsession of freedom.

Sacred Symbols (Moist Moonlight) is being translated into English.

"He feels exhausted. Not so much from weariness and sleeplessness, as from a strange fear that entered his brain, a fear that uproots him from the foundations of his being and tosses him into the irrational and incomprehensible, what is called mystery, that is, darkness and secrecy, which is even called anarchy or miracle.
The words of the elder Tabor, “everything is ordained,” uproots his brain, because he can confront the basic law of life, which is order and logic.
What “everything”? And what did his other words mean, “everything that you experience tonight was ready in time since that night”?
He feels so inadequate. So pitifully inadequate, since he is incapable of understanding the sequences that are accomplished in the raw matter of our lives, in that primeval matter that controls us, in that primal poetry of events.
He feels that his entire life is unwinding from a raw event that transcends him.
The laws of his mathematics, which he considered inexorable, fixed and all powerful, appear pitiable before the wisdom of these monks who can say with certainty “you will succeed…” as if they participate authoritatively in the progress of time. Because they do not only foretell events, they influence events, they transform them".

Kedros Publications (2009 - 2nd edition)



An epic novel that brings to life one of the most significant historical events of the past millennium: The Fall of the Byzantine Empire.
The novel is based on the historical context of the clash between Christianity and Islam, that led to the fall of Constantinople in 1453 and the destruction of the Byzantine Empire. While historical fact is the starting point, the aim is to focus on the human aspect of these events: The sadness, desolation, and hopeless heroism of the Byzantines, the ruthless cunningness and determination of the Turks.
With power thought, face to face with historical fact, the author Maria Lampadaridou Pothou conveys, minute by minute, the ultimate agony of the last days of the Imperial City, the struggle of that tragic besieget people, who became a universal symbol.
But beyond that, Maria Lampadaridou Pothou, with her hero as a mythic axis, describes the decline of Byzantium, as well as the painful experience of the Greek people after the Fall – an experience that gave rise to the flowering of the Greek spirit in Western centers of the Renaissance.

The novel Byzantium - The Fall has been translated into English.

"What I hoped to do was to find that which almost always remains outside of history: the passion, the miracle, the heroic grandeur of that tragic besieged people, abandoned by God a man. All those things I attempted to portray through the pain of the One Conscience, the One Solitary Cry, so that today’s man and woman could participate in that stunning event, which determined the historical course of the last millennium.
I believe that only historical self-knowledge can lead a nation to transcend blood, and that the death of the Byzantine Empire constitutes a historical past for every contemporary man and woman. In the spirit of peaceful co-existence foreshadowed by the new millennium, knowledge of the historical truth is that which will shape the new ecumenical human being."

"When I began to write my novel about the fall of the Byzantine Empire, I could not imagine the adventure on which I was embarking. On the one hand, there was the position I had to take, as author, toward a historical event that altered the world stage and shaped a new order in the balance of power throughout the world; on the other, there was the psychic price to pay, in reviving the wrenching experience of the last days of the siege of Constantinople and its fall.
The novel describes, moment by moment, the last fifty-seven days of the dying Byzantine Empire and at the same time recounts the unhappy course of thw Empire’s decline and of its abandonment by the West. It, also, outlines the painful experience of the Greek people after the fall which led to the flowering of Greek learning in the West.
I made use of poetic language and symbols, in order to enrich the epic account with insights from contemporary psychology.
History needs poetry in order to survive.
Poetry was my raw material".

Kedros Publications (First Edition 1996, 17th edition 2009)



Cover page:
“And nobody can know what today’s world would be like, if Persian imperialism, with its immense riches and its servile spirit, had prevailed. It was the clash between two different civilizations, two different worlds, in which the “few” free ones predominated.”

The Wooden Wall is the oracle that the god of Delphi gave to the Athenians before the battle of Salamis in 480 B.C.

The novel animates the epic of the ancient world through the eyes of a child from Lemnos, Alkamenis, who was taken slave by Persians. He managed to go to Sparta and know that unique city. There he became the witness of the greatest military conflicts in human history. As helot, as moribund and as observer he is becoming the mythic axis for all the cruelty and the charm of a world one might call up-to-date.

The Wooden Wall is, above all, the human adventure, the human being. The epic of man’s struggles, but also, his conception about life and Moira, about Hades, about the soul. And only the decision of those “few” to oppose the hybris of Persian imperialism gives the measure of that era.
With a vivid and perceptive language, with the events running in their archetypal ritual, the novel animates that time. It annuls the millenniums, becomes an adventure of today’s human being on the same earth.
A novel which searches, in the depths of the soul, the collective memory and the lost self-knowledge.

The novel The Wooden Wall has been translated into English.

"Centuries from now, I reflect, when time will have traced its endless cycles over us, this morning, in the last part of the month Boedromion, only one day before the new moon, I will be here again, wandering here, dead or alive, attempting to detach from oblivion this terrifying but also magnificent theater of history. Because witnesses do not die. Witnesses keep vigil in the solitude of time, keep vigil with eyes open. And I, the insignificant child from Lemnos, the Helot, the wandering dreamer, I, the owner of time am here today, I say, the witness of history".

Kedros Publications (First Edition 2006, 8th 2009)



Narcissus returns to his place of birth intending to sell the house where he grew up. But the place strangely captivates him. He passionately falls in love with a young woman, Persefone, who is marked by the ancient myth of Hades. But the lovers appear to be trapped within a web of inexplicable events. A wondering saint with a bloodied robe and an old church that is in the process of renovation compose a strange journey into mystery and self-knowledge.

Everyday people who experience events in the raw, in their archetypal poetry, to find the meaning that shines inextricable inside them.
The Sacred River is a magical trip from the psyche to the psyche. A trip to what is not visible.

The Sacred River has been translated into English.

“The rain would not stop, I was soaked, shaking,
but did not move. I was standing there, still, looking
at the sack with the bones that rattled strangely.
Small torrents on the ground were uprooting
Trees and shrubs and I was thinking about the
oracle “you will find them on the day it rains…”

Patakis Publications (First Edition 2003, sixth 2005)



The story is about the forcefulness of a son's oath to his mother, that transcends the rules of life and death. The novel is based on 'The Lay of the Dead Brother', a well-known Greek folk song, but goes beyond to create a new myth. Konstantinos is a modern age Orpheus who descends into Hades to seek his beloved one. Konstantinos' magical journey reveals the secrets of his existence, of life and death.

Part of the novel has been translated into English.

"THE THREE of them are on the deserted path and the moon moves among the drooping trees and the dark waters. Phoebus holds the lamp high to light their steps. Konstantinos leads the way, Kerberos, his tongue hanging, is behind him, and Phoebus is last. Like the other time. When they were going to the sea cove.
He feels a strange arousal. On this windy night, Konstantinos is leading him to the secrets of his charm, this endless night of hallucinations dissolves like a musical awakening in his soul.
He sees the trees drooping toward the earth and then rising again, their roots moaning. Some do not droop; they fall with a huge crashing sound, and lie there, exhausted. He hears the night birds shrieking wildly, and the wild animals that have come down from the mountains. He remembers the night of the wild beasts and shudders.
What is Konstantinos seeking tonight? Where is he going?
He does not ask. It is enough to be with him. To see his firm body and to breathe the fragrance of his youth – the fragrance of his seven-sealed secrets.
Tilted, deserted crosses on the overgrown graves.
They have arrived.
Konstantinos runs directly to the Stone Tree, the one that Nikola said was blooming. Its tall thick trunk is bent over the earth. It droops over the grass-covered tombs and still moans, as if writhing in pain.
He stands before it for a few moments, panting with anguish. Then he puts out his hands and embraces it – he who had not touched a living being for centuries, he whose body dissolved, turned to ashes each time he passed by there.
But now he embraces it, the tree that turned to stone for his sake – according to Dominikos, it turned to stone on the day of his death, from his mother’ s lamenting. He opens his arms again and again, opens them wide. He trembles with the desire to hold it to his bosom.
He does. A thousand-year-old gnarled trunk that exudes sweet breaths, warm sweet breaths, and an odor of Good Friday.
His eyes fill with tears".

Kedros Publications (First Edition 2001, 4th edition 2004)



Inexplicable events are observed in a small place, just before its exploitation for development. Adriani, spellbound by the mystery of this place, is desperately fighting to preserve it. However, she is not successful. And then, supernaturally, the place begins to resist itself, with its own mysterious forces. The place comes to life, for everyone to see its blood and tears of stone, but its revenge as well.

Part of the novel has been translated into English.

"It is already afternoon. The wild pomegranate bushes bend, shivering, over the old Byzantine wall and sheaves of hovering blue pierce the few wisps of a moving fog that envelops trees and rocks and lends the site a dream-like appearance of a floating place, traveling motionless in the sway of time. Here and there the light appears from invisible sources and the winter sun appears to be rolling on the earth, so strangely is the place glowing.
I button up my raincoat, wrap a shawl around my neck and go out. Before leaving, I turn around – I felt the attraction of a gaze – and see Lefkios standing at the window, looking at me. His gaze is piercing. I feel it without seeing it. Nothing will stop me, I tell him with my thought, and he nods his head, as if to say, I know… what will happen has already come to pass in that other, invisible, reality. There is a barely discernible smile on his serene countenance. You are the charmed one, he says now, touched by the mystery, and I hear him with my body and shudder.
I take deep breaths and set out. I hear the sound of my footsteps, of the footsteps of the goddess Artemis, the goddess Demeter, of Persephone. I look around. The Site of the Mysteries is deserted. The entire Site of the Ancient Mysteries is deserted. Where is the echo coming from? An echo of raw metal and of water flowing and of cracking crystal – the entire place appears crystalline, surreal, laden with its ancient spirit. Already, the night is falling, slowly, exuding the odor of the first night of creation, an odor of extinguished burn, and I am beside myself. I, too, am made of burned, extinguished material, I reflect, I am the slowly shifting sand at the moment when it is transformed into tender crystals deep in the fire of the earth. You will come, tonight you will come. The moon will come down low, as in the legend, and I will cut it to pieces, which I will throw down, to show you the way. Perhaps you, too, are coming from far away… from mythic argonautic voyages… perhaps, perhaps, you, too, carry a mythical Jason within you, who is seeking the divine moment".

Kedros Publications (First Edition 1999, 4th edition 2004)



A simple everyday man finds himself against the experience of a supernatural event. He isolates himself on an island, trying to figure out the signs sent to him by the world beyond. There, he will lead a debauched life, but also experience profound love. A story of desolation and the search for self-identity in modern society.

"From afar he saw the old, grass-covered threshing-floor, bathed in the moonlight and on the crystal-clear waters the glow of a strange, as if creeping, light, the dim brilliance of an imprisoned soul.

He approached closer to see more clearly. It was a quivering, struggling shadow of blue and bleached violet color, a lost soul seeking the coolness of the spring; the black dog ran up, frantic, and stood in front of him sinking its gaze indelibly into his own, and began to bark.
He shuddered.
He new that it was not time, but the moment, that threatened him, this supernatural shining moment, that palpitated like a drop of crystal-clear water, that encompassed the entire mystery.
He glanced at his water; it was midnight.
He fell upon the cliff of the god gasping. He was terrified and at the same time entranced.
Once more, he noticed that this fear was strangely pleasurable, and now he was convinced that he would go again and again, until he became certain, he learned; He had sought the key to the secrets the world fides, truths seen from their other side, the invisible one. He was there now, at the point of all points, at the heart of the mystery – he was the keeper of the keys."

peges 65-66
"One by one the secrets of his life sent him their sign, he had only to unravel the mystery of the dead soul that wandered round the ancient threshing floor, perhaps tonight it would give him a sign, if it is not a hallucination, he reflected, as soon as night fell he looked for the storm-lamp but could find it nowhere; he took with him matches and a candle and set off. He had figured on being there near midnight because he knew now that was a sensitive hour that made the earthly space more conquerable, more fragile, so that the equilibrium of silence vibrated, creating invisible fissures in the other space of mystery.
He stood on the hill with the live oaks and saw the valley spread out, calm; the moon, rising red like blood and moist, lent a supernatural glow to the landscape, made it throb and ring, or so it seemed to him. Tonight was the night of the sign and he would not leave that spot without knowing".   

Prize of the Ouranis Foundation of Athens Academy, in 1995.

Kedros Publications (First Edition 1993, 6th 2008)



Love is explored as a kind of mysticism of the body and a memory. The search of their lost paradise leads two old lovers to the place of their first magic. Mature and fatigued with their life struggles, they will live another kind of passion through the memories and wakefulness of their bodies. She is a person who has struggled for her ideas and experienced sacrifice. He is a the son of an old myth. A story about the mystical qualities of love.

"She is standing there, on the stone step, and she is watching the raindrops falling in what is the same image always of a winter landscape, which vanishes taking with it his face. Countless times this same feeling of lost happiness. It' s me, she says, still me, time an absence standing between the wound and the wilderness that has become my life.

She is called Erofili. Ero. He called her Ro. “You are the Ro of Eros”, he said.
She tries to understand her relation to what she is living, to the sensation each moment awakes in her, she needs to understand how she got here. A sense of dissolution. And it hurts.
Certainly, when you are thirty five plus, you see things from a distance, she thinks, they don' t touch you, feeling has gone, Youth. Your face becomes hard. Mine is. I feel it. This harshness.
Harshness, yes.
In her thoughts the aristocratic lover of her youth. The myth of the place. His face had fused with all the winter mornings she experienced, as though born of the mist in that place.
I love you, Ro, but I must leave. Our roads are different”.

How many years have passed? It frightens her. I am not interested in time. I have stopped counting.
Raincoat, umbrella, boots. And a wool dress. New.
She bought it for this voyage. She had always dreamed of a warm dress she could hide in. And her hair dyed. Chestnut.
The suitcase she is holding is almost empty. There is nothing she needs now. She took it with her so as not to travel with her hands empty. And it's raining. Slow ceaseless rain since the moment she arrived. Everything is sodden. And the garden is empty too. Like the setting of a performance abandoned halfway through. She looks at the windows of her house. Unopened now for years.
But I, why have I come? She wonders.
The stone step worn down. Eaten away by the years. By the wilderness perhaps.
Perhaps that's what I come for. To live the wilderness."

The novel is to be republished (First Edition 1990, 7th 2006, 8th edition 2012 by )
And by the title: "The Lover"



Cover page:
Natalia and Christina are two short novels describing both the psychology of the contemporary woman. The novels consist of two separate love stories in which the author traces the profound existential changes of woman and the lost meaning of her sacrifice.
The author notes: “My purpose was to bring Natalia and Christina to the point of self-analysis, where they would become conscious of their errors but also of their strength and thus achieve self-knowledge and their own liberation”.
In the novels, Woman is described in relation to her beloved, Man, as well as in terms of what she has lost and gained from her feminist struggles. Maria Lampadaridou Pothou believes that Woman’s strength and preeminence lies elsewhere: in internal sources of self-knowledge which must be found and realized. The author notes: “It is not coincidental that the great ancient Greek tragedians used more women as tragic heroes, because a woman’s nature is closer to the miraculous and the mysterious”.
From another perspective these two heroines of diametrically opposed character are but the one face of Woman, contradictory and solitary, struggling for its dignity. But each of the heroines achieves self-knowledge and liberation by a different path.
The novels are written in the poetic language of analytic thought, which is characteristic of all the author’s fiction.

It has been translated into English.

“The world is turning like it’s drunk... no, not on the sofa, better take me to my bed, this way... oh, bless you, I want to lie down, I’m turning with the world, and the ceiling comes up to my waist... take my clothes off, I have a nightgown here somewhere... no, not pink lace again, I’m not crazy! That cotton one, the lava is inside me, don’t look at the outside, ah, I’m a bit cooler, bring the liqueur bottle and let’s have one last drink from that bottle of strong liqueur that’s been sitting unopened on the shelf for years, remember? Bring it now, its time has come, no don’t be afraid of it, it relaxes the body, sweetens it, I become sweet, come on, to our health, to our new errors, I hope they are smarter than the old ones, more artistic... Come on, to our health I said, why are you looking at me like that? To our new loves... you drink to Sibyl and I to you... I prefer you, you see, ah, how grateful I am to the unforgettable Sibyl... no, no, don’t leave me, did I say something wrong? Hold me tighter, it’s cold suddenly, I’m cold, tighter, tighter, here let me help you undress, we’ll get warm together, I’m suddenly obsessed with the thought that you should warm me, here cover up, it’s getting cold, cover up I tell you, tomorrow is another day, ah, how good you smell, your body always smelled sweetly but I couldn’t tell of what, and suddenly, fields and mountain tops, no, don’t ask, better not, I always wanted to smell you, you see... tighter, tighter...”

Agyra Publications (First Edition 1994, 7th 2009).



Eleven collections of poetry and biography.
The collection Mystic Passage has been tranlslated into English.
It is also published in Sweden by Bonniers Publications and in French by The Temp qu' il Fait.

The Agony of Matter

Winter will find me naked
In a dilapidated room
With time welling up through the holes of the floors
Winter will find me stirring the ashes of my poetry
A handful of words -- like star or blood
Like I wander or oath -- like
Souls can smell -- I burn them to warm myself.

Winter will find me barefoot wandering
Up and down the one and only abyss
The soil is soft I sink into it
Mud from ancient stars
"I will get through," I say
Branches of the azure in my hands
And the tree officiates over the silver of the desert
Odor of the boundless void
My pained matter that I inhabited.

I raise my poetry before
Garment stained with blood
I burn it to warm myself.

And it rains and rains in my tattered room
Which sways a reward for fire
It rains full moon and ancient blood
Crystals laden with my centuries.

I bend over to look at myself in the most,
In the most deep well of cracked crystal
My face perplexed and mournful
And it rains and rains silver deserts on the sacred icon
My body is an odor of night's shudder
And the archangel standing in the window
Fashions a sensuous curve from God and Universe

I wrap myself in the boundless azure
To pass through.

Winter will find me dreaming
A rose sprouted on the storm
With paradise shifting like a mirage
and Time still prophetic
liberating the stars from my flesh.

Winter will find me in the desert
Marching like a revelation
And Age, the Exterminator, melts like
A scented candle
With the seven flames kindled in my body
Sites of nascent whiteness
With a frgrance of burnt pine-needle for recognition
A rose that prays forgotten
At the edge of the storm

I walk no longer
I sink down like a prophetic dream.

Poetry: Mystic Passage

Kedros Publications (2007)



The realism and brutality of the modern world clashing with the most poetic and sensitive moment in a woman's life: the time she gives birth to her child. The trial of sentiments against the fact of motherhood.

Six days of a woman's life: her agony of killing her unborn baby and her torment when she loses it.

Kedros Publications (First Edition 2002, 4th 2004)



The story of one of Byzantium's great emperors, a tragic person, Nikiforos Fokas. His clash between his duty to the empire, his devotion to religion and asceticism, and his passionate love for Theofano, an immoral empress, ultimately tear him apart and bring about an ignoble downfall.

The novel brings to life an entire time, the most fascinating of Constantinople when it ruled the world, permeated by deep religious mysticism and imperialism. It also presents ascetic life and human passion.
It is a historical novel.

Kedros Publications (1992, 14th 2008)



A young girl, enslaved after her capture, manages to play a critical role, as a spy, in the liberation of Crete by Nikiforos Fokas from the Saracens. The novel brings to life a dark age (10th century AD), a period full of brutality, but also greatness and selfless sacrifice.

In parallel to the legend of Doxanio, the novel revives all that dark era of Byzantine history, a time full of cruelty, but also grandeur and self-sacrifice, meeting our times through other ways.
It is a historical novel.

Kedros Publications (First Edition 1990, 15th 2009)



This is the first of the four historical novels relating to Byzantium. Maroula is a girl from a noble family, whose bravery and inspiration helps save the island from the invading Turks. The novel highlights a chain of historical events and social conditions in the second half of the 15th century. It is based on the military archives of Venice.

Poets and historians present her as equal to Joan of Arc.

Along with Maroula's legend, the novel revives Hellenism's painful adventure, which gave birth to the spiritual renaissance of the Western world.

Winner of the First Prize of the Athens Academy in 1987.

It is a historical novel.
Kedros Publications (First Edition 1986, 17th 2009)



"The Grey City is the mist-enveloped Paris of the troubled '60s, a decade which has been called "sinful", shaken by the then novel outbreak of universal violence and anarchistic romanticism. The youth of that decade, having suffered the traumas of the World War, were finding their dreams thwarted, while the memories of blood and ruins and human humiliation were still fresh.
The heroine, a delicate girl of tender age, her personality marked by the ruins of the past and the anarchism of the present, finds herself in the heart of Paris, where she will live her own adventure, her own loneliness, the fever of absolute love and, above all, her own revolution.

The Grey City is not only the rainy city of Paris with the fascination of that decade, but the center of the universal stage, where the characters of the novel live their own personal drama, amidst the barracks of the Latin Quartier, the love of the impossible, and the white Greek islands of memory."

The novel is to be republished. (First Edition 1971, 7th 2005, Govostis publication 2011)



On a Greek island, a young girl lives her first magical experience of things and love.

It is a novel for young people, which speaks about love and the sorrow of love, about the ephemeral and disintegration. Her first traumatic experience which will enrich the heroine; will lead her to maturity and self-knowledge.

Kedros Publications ( first edition 1965, 4th 2003)



The book contains theatrical plays: The Glass Box, Antigone Or the Nostalgia of Tragedy and Bidding you farewell.
Also, introduction by the editor Rhoda Kaufman.

“In her writing, Maria Lampadaridou Pothou struggles always to get at true reality, that which is hidden “on the other side” of objects, in the invisible world. Movement in her writing is between the visible and supernatural worlds. Images of light in darkness, of fissures in time and space, of restless souls and secret passages, appear recurrently in her work. In these ways, her poetry and prose are reminiscent of work by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Isabella Alliende, and Salman Rushdie.”

Professor of Drama, California State University Hayward.

Guernica Publications, Canada (2002)



"There are many good poets in Greece today. One of them is Maria Lampadaridou Pothou, whose collection of poems The Mystic Passage was published in Sweden.
[...] Lampadaridou is an exacting writer of high intellect, at least as seen from the secularized Swedish perspective. Seen from a different angle, Lampadaridou is automatically registered in the Modern Greek tradition - the one that includes Kalvos and Sikelianos as main figures.
[...] Lampadaridou wanted to build a bridge to unite the great Greek past, which has been dominant for thousands of years and includes the Pre-socratic philosophers, and the byzantine visionaries.
[...] The closest figures to whom the poet refers us is Odysseas Elytis.

For himself, Rhedin (the translator) very aptly says that 'Sappho and Heraklitus seem like good neighbors who a little while ago passed by to borrow some oil'. As far as passion and nostalgia are concerned, the poet has common elements with Gabriela Mistral, who wrote for a child that she never had, whereas the Greek poet writes for a child she lost. The poet has an unattainable dream to pass through into the other dimension.
[...] No matter how vehemently the poet identifies herself with Sibyl 'Chewing laurel and wild roots' as well as with Christ's Mother, whose child is 'Evangelizing the world', here not only the Jew not only the Greek but everyone and everything give flesh and bone for a protest against the convention of existence. This protest is voiced through our history and pre-history. Certainly, also, in the future which opens before us.
[...] For me, the poet is more fascinating when she vacillates between archangels and Pythia and with the crystalline waters of her paradises. But for her it is an obvious necessity to explore all perspectives. Only in that way and having those visions can she say: 'Drops of blood my marks'.

Nengt HOMQVIST, newspaper Dagens Nyheter, Stockholm (8 November 1996), for the poetic collection The Mystic Passage.



Aux Editions Le Temps Qu'il Fait, France (1995)