But there’s sex in there, right?

A friend from college asked me to send her my books and said her cousin, Goran, would pick them up, since he was passing through Loznica. We arranged to meet for a coffee. It was easy to spot him: mid-thirties, prison haircut, a T-shirt with huge print, flashy sneakers. I struggled to understand why anyone who’s no longer in his teens would wear flashy sneakers anywhere outside the gym. We ordered coffee and I put the books on the table. He looked at them with a fair amount of skepticism...

(What follows is our conversation that ensued. The abridged version.)

-   Sooo, you write?

-   Yeah…

-   What about?

-   The Slavs.

-   Oh, so you write about the Serbs? That’s a good topic.

-   Not the Serbs, the Slavs.

-   I get it, I get it, you write about us.

-   Yes, all of us.

-   So, the Yugoslavs.

-   Not just the Yugoslavs, the Slavs in general… actually, I write about Slavic gods and Slavic mythology.

       (he laughs and takes the books, looks at them and frowns at the stylized             kolovrat)

-  Isn’t this that symbol of Hitler’s?

-   No.

-   What do you mean “no”? This looks awfully like a swastika to me.

-   That’s a kolovrat.

-   Kolo-what?

-   Kolovrat, the symbol of Svarog.

-   Who’s that?

-   The supreme god of the Old Slavs.

-   Are you trying to say that the Slavs are fascists?

-  (fascists???) Of course not. The Nazis just borrowed the swastika symbol. It is a really powerful symbol. It represents… (he opens The Scent of Legacy and takes a look at the prologue)

-   What’s this, Rügen, the Federal Republic of Germany? Is that where the plot takes place?

-   Most of the time.

-   So you’re writing about us being supporters of Hitler?

-   Excuse me?

-   Well, first there was that fascist symbol (fascist??), and now there’s Germany.

-   Actually, the plot takes place on the Cape Arkona. And that’s not a Nazi symbol, kolovrat is a major symbol in many ancient religions.

-   So that’s why you named your trilogy Arkona?

-   Well, yeah…

-   Why Arkona? Why didn’t you come up with a nicer name?

-   Well, that’s what the cape is called. It was the last stronghold of the Old Slavs… The fortress, the temples…

-   Well, I’ve never heard of that, and I go to Munich all the time.

-   Not many people have heard of it. I didn’t know the whole story about the Ruyans and the Cape Arkona myself. I discovered it a couple of years ago.

-   Who the hell are the Ruyans?

-   That’s what they called the Slavs who lived on the Cape Arkona.

-   In Germany?  

-   Yes, in Germany.

-   Hahaha, that’s right, I remember reading somewhere that the Germans are actually of Serbian origin.

-   That’s simply not true.

-   If it’s not true, why do you say that the Serbs and those Slavs of yours lived in Germany?

-   That’s because the Slavs really lived there. The Baltic Slavs.

-   Never heard of that.

-   That’s what they called the ones living on the coast of the Baltic Sea.

-   Who cares about them? You should write about us only.

-   Well, I care, because I’m a Slav, I love my origin and I respect all Slavic peoples.

-   Yeah, you know what they say, combined with the Russians, there are 300 million of us.

-   Haha, there’s a lot more, the Russians are not the only Slavs out there.

-   Right, right, the former Yugoslavia, apart from the Croats, and then there’s Belarus, and Russia… there’s quite a lot of us.

-   And Ukraine, Bulgaria, Croatia, Poland, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, and the Ruthenes and the Lusatian Serbs…

-   Hahahaha, what do the Czech and the Polish have to do with us?

-   Are you kidding me?

-   Nope, why?

-   How could you ask something like that? What do you think they are?

-   Well, it’s far more likely that they’re Germans.

-   Germans? Like Germanic people?

-   Oh, you stubborn woman, I don’t know if they are Germanic or not, but they’re catholic, so they can’t be Slavs!

-   Religion has nothing to do with someone’s origin. The Slavs can be orthodox, catholic, protestant or Muslim when it comes to religion.

-   Muslims? Are you trying to say that someone who performs Salah instead of praying to Jesus has the same origin as you and I? 

-   Exactly, the new religions came much later.

-   What kind of Slavs would convert to Islam and Catholicism? I’ve been to Prague and Poland several times, and I’m telling you, they have nothing to do with us, it’s more likely they’re Germans. The Latin alphabet, hello! They’re not like our orthodox brothers.

-   Have you ever spent a holiday in Greece? 

-   I spend all my summers in Greece. I feel right at home there.

-   And you understand their language?

-   No way, I only learned ela and elo, but everyone speaks Serbian there…

-   And when you were in Prague or Warsaw, could you understand a word or two?

-   Well, yeah, it’s like some weird kind of Serbian, like Slovak.

-   And you understand Russian most of the time?

-   Well, yes, they use the Cyrillic alphabet like we do.

-   And the Croats, they don’t use the Cyrillic alphabet, but you understand everything, right?

-   Of course I do, apart from those new words they keep making up.

-   So, when you go to Greece, which is an orthodox country, you can’t understand a word they’re saying?

(he squints, processing the information)

-   And when you go to Poland, which is a catholic country, you understand some words?

-   So, what you’re trying to tell me is that I should be fonder of the Czechs than of my orthodox Greek brothers? 

-   No, what I’m trying to tell you is that you have the same origin as the Western Slavs, since we all originate from the Proto-Slavs. That’s why you should respect all Slavs, regardless of their religion.

-   Let me tell you something, sister, I’d quit writing if I were you. Who cares about those Proto-Slavs and the origin…

-   Isn’t it nice to understand the origin of your blood? To know that you belong to one of the oldest peoples in the world? How do you expect others to respect you when you yourself don’t care about your roots and tradition?

(he sits in silence and starts flipping through the books again)

- So, practically, what you’re telling us in your books is that we are all one.

-   Well, yes, indirectly. Purpure, the main character, she’s a descendant of all Slavic peoples. However, what I write about is Slavic mythology, our ancient gods, myths, customs… I just employ a somewhat different approach.

-   You are writing about us being pagans.

-   Well, that’s what we were once. Although I’m not that fond of that term.

-   Savages, then.

-   We weren’t savages, we were simply polytheists. You see, in my books, the Slavic gods are present in today’s world…

-   Are you in a sect?

-   Of course not. Why would you think that?

-   Well, you’re writing about some ancient gods being real. You’re writing against the church.

-   Dude, I write fiction. I’m not writing against the church, I’m just trying to find a more simple way to introduce people to our original faith.

-   Original faith? Paganism, you mean. Why in the world would we need that? 

-   So we could know who we were 2000 years ago. So we could realize how interesting our own mythology is… Let me ask you, do you know who Zeus is?

-   Of course.

-   And Perun?

-   A pagan god.

-   What about Aphrodite, Apollo?

-   Sure I do, they’re Greek deities.

-   And Thor, Loki?   

-   Hahaha, I’m a fan of The Avengers, of course I know who Thor is.

-   So, do you believe that The Avengers are speaking against the church, since they place Thor in today’s world?

-   Well, no…

-   And do you know who Lada, Svantovit and Dazhbog are?

-   No, but I’m sure they’re some gods of yours.

-   So you are familiar with Greek and Nordic mythology, but not your own?

-   ‘Cause there are no movies about it.  

-   That’s what I’m trying to tell you, my book is not a movie, but it is still a modern story.

(he shakes his head)

-  And what do these gods do in your books? Do they fight?

-   Among other things…

-   And the fights are between…?

-   The gods of Yav fight against the gods of Nav.

-   What are those?

-   Yav is where the good guys come from, and Nav is the home of the bad guys.

-   And they all have supernatural, magical powers, spears and stuff?

-   Well, yeah…

(he laughs out loud)

-  So, that’s kinda like Lord of the Rings?

-   No, epic fantasy is not my genre.

-   Well, it sounds a lot like WoW…

-   Not everything is epic fantasy. There are a lot of different subgenres.

-   It’s good that it’s not like LotR, I hate that movie, boring as hell. Anyway, I’m glad I’ve met you, I haven’t laughed this much in a while. I can’t believe my cousin paid for this. You’re really lucky, having all that spare time to write about things no one cares about.  

-   You know what, actually, I write about sex.

(suddenly, he looks at me with admiration and excitement and starts flipping through books with much more enthusiasm)

-  You’ve got sex in here?

-   That’s right.

(he’s carefully turning the pages)

-   The real kind?

-   The real kind.

-   Fifty Shades of Gray real?

-   Not really, but there’s sex alright.

-   Where? (he grins)

-   Somewhere in there, Purpure and Lirai are screwing their brains out.

-   Who’s Lirai?

-   Actually, he’s the Slavic god of war and spring. Yarilo.

-   Yarilo?

-   Yup.

-   You couldn’t come up with a better name? It sounds ridiculous.

-   I didn’t make it up, that’s what the Slavs called him. Yar means rage, fury, and he’s the god of war…

-   Either way, it’s stupid, it should’ve been something awesome, like Thor (still carefully flipping through the books). I’m not surprised that people don’t care about Slavic mythology. All the gods have such stupid names.

-     You know what, I was wrong…

-  About what?

-   You’re not a Slav at all (I get up and I’m ready to leave). I’ve got to go.  

-   Wait a second, what do you mean by that?

-   Well, the Slavs normally don’t have such a small… (I was going to say brain, but by the look of his face, I am pretty certain he’s expecting something else)

-   Small… what?!

-   Thumbs!

He looks at his hands, utterly perplexed.   

-  You’re serious?

-   As a heart attack.

-   So what does that make me?

   (a fool!!!)

-   How should I know, I haven’t got a PhD in genetics, I’m just a silly writer. Try googling “small thumbs”.

    I walk away as he stares at the Google search results. I smile naughtily, knowing what Google will tell him.

  Note to self: Stop trying to explain to people what your books are about. Life’s too short. 

*

Mr Cellophane

When it comes to the Old Slavs, the gods are divided into two teams: team Jav – the good guys, and team Nav – the bad guys. The teams host a wide variety of demons – typical scoundrels, and demigods – mostly some nice creatures who are fond of the gods more than they are of mortals, but do right by the people anyway. They are used to sucking it up – as long as the gods give them a job, a paycheck or an occasional pat on the back, they don’t complain. At least not publicly – fake Twitter account activity doesn’t count.

And yes… there is also Talason.

Talason is a domestic demon originating from the Balkans, who suffers from a bad kind of narcissistic personality disorder. Although he has his own team, or kind, he belongs to, the little mister domestic demon is not satisfied with who he is. He’d like to be something much, much greater than that, greater than Caliph instead of the Caliph, greater than Kanye West, this evil little guy would like to be a god.

He doesn’t favor any particular team, nor gender (if you catch my drift), all he covets is a divine membership card in the top pocket of his coat, or at least a business card with the following inscription in calligraphic gold font:

Talason, PhD, MD, LAPD Occupation: GOD!

Ok, I know, everyone dreams of being something greater, and that’s fine, at least according to life coaches, and if a bad actor from Western movies can become the president of the USA, then Talason can surely become a big shot in Jav/Nav. Especially since he hasn’t become what he is overnight – he’d earned his degree fair and square. And his resume seems rather cool: 

Talason, licensed spirit in charge of protecting public buildings.

Job description: protecting edifices and supervising the construction.

One would say: such a nice job, well-paid, especially in the West – so what seems to be the problem?

The problem is that he considers himself to be more important than the architect, the contractor, the masons, even the clients.

In his mind, he is the Alpha and the Omega of the project, so it really pisses him off that no human can see him, apart from the ones born on Tuesday, and even they see him as nothing but a dark shadow (the legend says that only dogs can see him in his true form).  

Yet, in spite of his invisibility, everyone knows that, whenever a construction site pops up, Talason will be right there, meddling and whispering all kinds of crazy ideas to the masons.

“During the construction phase, masons would measure the shadow of a passerby and build it into the edifice. On these occasions, the masons would use silk thread and the person whose shadow was built into the edifice would die in 40 days.”

Really, who could like such a guy, when you never know whose life could come to an end thanks to his meddling ways? That’s why people avoided walking past construction sites, mothers didn’t let their children play near them, hotties wore turtlenecks, the rich kids of Instagram went back to their parents in the suburbs or demanded to be sent to prison. Life in prison was better than ending up as Talason’s victim.

And Talason… well, he simply doesn’t see it that way. He believes that a tiny human sacrifice for the sake of the building is nothing to fuss about.

Still, I have to admit, while I was reading about Talason, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy. All that studying, all that hard work in the gym, so many skipped dinners and expensive suits, and still no one sees him, apart for the ones born on Tuesday, who see him as a shadow, and dogs, and he’s a cat person…

In the end, his huge desire to be seen and worshiped has driven him insane, and now, instead of a domestic demon dealing death around constructions sites, we are dealing with a domestic demon who does not only kill random strangers, but also thinks that he’s a god.

And the craziest part is that this guy is the Slavic Littlefinger when it comes to plots, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he really ended up being a god one day. Especially now, when he got lucky, and a certain Mercybearer born on Tuesday sees him as a stud, not just a faceless shadow…

To be continued…

A roller-coaster of a novel - love, magic, ancient gods, and a whole lot more!

                                                     A Review of The Land of Frost 

By Milica Kostić

I believe that most readers will agree with me when I say that the first impression upon reading The Scent of Legacy, the first part of the Arkona Purpure trilogy, is best described as absolute surprise. At first, the novel seems like a love story, but somewhere in the middle it changes its course and takes a completely different direction, taking the readers on an amazing journey into the heart of Slavic mythology, in an utterly natural and vivid manner. I consider this approach to be a unique phenomenon in contemporary literature.

Drina Steinberg’s novels can most certainly be classified as epic fantasy. However, the author has managed to put a playful twist on the original genre and give a special appeal to an exciting, yet little-known topic. Ever so subtly, by letting the readers in on the secrets of Slavic mythology,she brings its magic into their lives, making it a cherished and well-loved element of their reality.Within this mythological framework, Drina Steinberg deals with the destinies of her characters, their emotional relationships, carefully illustrating what it is like to be a woman in the contemporary society.

Another important feature of this trilogy is its attention-grabbing quality. Simply put, both novels keep the readers on their toes the whole time. You will surely read them in one sitting.

After the first part of the trilogy, The Land of Frost had big shoes to fill. However, not only has itlived up to the expectations,it has surpassed them.

With the foundations set in The Scent of Legacy, the second part of the trilogy, The Land of Frost, opens with scenes set in the mythological realm.Moving further away from the traditional “women’s voice” in literature, the author writes about battle, blood, and murder in an extraordinarily vivid manner, while remaining true to herself and the main character’s feminine perspective.

Another interesting motif is that of parenthood, most readily observable in the relationship between Purpure and her daughter. Despite being aware of her great task and the fact that her daughter is of divine origin, Purpure is, above all, a woman whose main role is that of a mother and her child’s protector.

Less prominent, but still immensely powerful and deeply emotional is the parent-child relationship between gods. The humanness of this relationship, the pain, the regret, the sacrifice, and, finally, love, speak of the universality and supreme quality of emotions, making gods appear mortal and familiar in the readers’ eyes. 

The Land of Frost is a novel characterized by strong emotions, building up and leading to a truly intense and emotional ending. Apart from leaving a strong impression on the readers, the ending leaves plenty of room for a great sequel and leaves the readers craving for more.

ZEMLjA MRAZA - Drina Steinberg [UNOFFICIAL BOOK TRAILER]

To Mother Nature

Dear Mother Nature,

It is both sad and horrifying to know that your children are united only in their meaningless fight against you. So, dear Mother, I've been thinking – maybe, instead of giving us those unbelievable sunsets, breathtaking landscapes, the air we breathe and the life itself, you could just slap us all. Unexpectedly and right in the face. Just to remind us how small and insignificant we are compared to you. Both the rich and the poor, Christians and Muslims, healthy and sick, beautiful and ugly, smokers and non-smokers, Facebook users and Twitter users, literate and illiterate, black and white, hipsters and the normal folks.

Now, if that doesn't help us realize what we're doing both to ourselves and you, maybe then you could give us a tug on the ear, short and painful, just like my Russian teacher used to do when someone forgot to do his homework. Because our homework is way overdue. We failed to learn that no guns, oil, biological weapons, software, money, Facebook likes, or Bruce Willis can stop you. There is no bunker, fallout shelter, giant yacht, Mars, or Swiss bank account that can protect us from the impending doom we deserve.

If the slap and the tug don't make us realize how insignificant we are compared to you, Mother, then make us kneel on corn in front of you. The way teachers used to punish bad students. Because we lack education. We lack culture. We lack manners. And we're so, so filled with hate. Selfish, we live our lives thinking only about how to satisfy and save our own asses. We live for the moment, for the now, where everything revolves around us, and we never stop and think about what kind of future we are leaving for our children and their children. What we should cherish and save, if there's anything left to save at all and if there is any future we can hope for.  

If after all those punishments we don't learn how to love one another and how to love you, if we don't realize how lucky we are to have you, then just slap us silly. Slap us until we are all red and sad and sorry. Give us the beating of our lives, and not the s&m Christian Gray kind, but the real, Bruce Lee-style ass-kicking.

Love,

Drina


     ( picture : http://www.shiftfrequency.com/ )

Once upon a tribe

Once upon a time, far, far, seven seas and seven hills away, somewhere at the end of the world, a gaze away from the sky and a step away from the mother earth, there was a people.

They were special. They lived in peace and harmony. They lived in harmony with nature, their gods, and their beliefs. They defended themselves from others, with a wise head and a brave heart. They were simple, their soul was unsullied, their desires were clear, they cared for their families and their roots. Finally, they were a magical people, with strong faith they derived from the energy of nature. That’s why everyone saw them as different and unbeatable.

Unfortunately, life likes to remind us that no one is unbeatable. And so this people dispersed, fell apart, got estranged. From its origins, its beliefs, its gods. It has let time lay the dust of oblivion on everything that tied it to the place of its origin, making it drift away from its true blood, and by accepting a new religion, new alphabet, new history, this people got embedded into some new structures. Its people have turned their back on their primeval origins, and have been building walls to separate them from their fellow countrymen, walls that grow higher and higher every year.

This people still exists. The Slavic people, as it is called. Divided into four sides of the world, four religions. It lives embedded into some new countries, some new stories in textbooks. Rarely reminiscing its origins, most often in disputes, where each side uses its own scraps of past to prove they are the true ones, the greater ones, the original ones.

Once upon a time there was a people, the Slavic people, living in harmony, almost unbeatable. And this people still exists today, dispersed and estranged. The people who don’t recognize their fellow countrymen when they meet them, because they have different gods, different borders, different currency.

Sometimes, the four groups of Slavs resemble four beautiful girls who used to be friends when they were little, and have met again after many years. They will smile at one another, because that’s polite; after all, they used to be close. They’ll say hello, perhaps nod at one another, but still, they will check one another out, from head to toe, looking for flaws, telling themselves they are nothing alike, that they are better, more successful, more beautiful than the others. And yet, it takes so little for them to see themselves in others. They just need to look past the differences. They need to look past their clothes, that is, their economic status and politics, then makeup, that is, the faith that beautifies them. In the end, they should cast it all away and bare themselves in front of one another, showing their scars, creases, and imperfections, everything that represents their life, what they’ve gone through, hard and wonderful times, their history.

And if not even then, after they have casted away all the superficial differences and have bared themselves to the core, if they still don’t realize they are the same, they need to do only one more thing – they need to speak. 

Only one word is enough for them to instantly realize everything, to recognize themselves in others. Maybe they live in opposite sides of the world, maybe they belong to different religions, have different social status, politics, alphabet, but when they talk, combine phonemes into syllables, syllables into words, they understand. Maybe there are no Old Slavic scripts, not enough temples, idols, preserved tradition, maybe there will soon be no Slavs in history textbooks, but the Slavic language is still there. Alive and beautiful. A bit altered, but clear. Because, if you listen for just a while, you will understand a Slav, it will not matter if he’s from the south or the Baltic, a Protestant or an orthodox Christian. The language will tell you that this person, whether you like them or not, belongs to that special people who once lived united, far, seven seas and seven hills away, a gaze away from the sky, a step away from the mother earth, from the homeland, the one and only Slavic homeland. 

images retrieved from www.voenpro.ru

He’s big and he’s bad

Old Slavic gods were usually in charge of two or three things. Ok, sometimes four. However, there was one Slavic god who had so many skills he was what you would call a Jack of all trades. He was so deeply involved in all aspects of everyday life, he was like a sort of ancient Google. His name was Veles, and since his name starts with a V, it makes sense that he is one of those guys whose name you shouldn’t say out loud (Voldemort, (Darth) Vader…).

If one had to describe Veles (or Volos) in only two words, they would probably say: he’s big and he’s bad. That is because some people saw him as the greatest among the greats, strong and dashing fellow (the son of a cow and the Slavic god Rod), determined and righteous protector, what you would call a saint; and some saw him as an old man with gray hair and long beard, with an old shepherd’s crook in his hand, the dark ruler, the tyrant, the ultimate bad guy, what you would call a devil. 

Although he had an army of followers who worshiped him and only him, there were still more people who thought of him only as Mr. Hyde, never Dr Jekyll. BUT, love him or hate him, one thing is for sure: everyone feared him. Like I said – he’s big and he’s bad.

If he was to apply for a job in the contemporary world, his CV would be longer than the list of Henry VIII’s wives and mistresses. Veles was in charge of the crops, wealth, property, trade, cattle, art, shepherds, tricks and cons, and wizards. He was all a god could be. He handled all the buying and the selling, contracts, media, music, and models. It is fun to note that his significance in making contracts of all kinds was so great, it was enough just to swear by him, and the contract was automatically valid. That’s it. No kind of ID necessary.

Since he was the god of cattle and crops, he was extremely important when it came to survival. People worshiped and venerated him, because they believed that his mood will decide if the harvest would be rich and if there would be enough cattle. That is why everyone did their best not to offend him, or, God forbid, make him mad in any way. He was also, when needed, in charge of the forests, wildlife, shepherds, and fertility.

It is interesting to note that Veles was creative, too. Apart from inspiring numerous musicians and writers, helping countless druids and wizards, he himself was a kind of a poet, a philosopher, a writer… He loved taking notes; it was almost as if he was keeping a journal. It is assumed that that is how the Book of Veles came into being. Still, so far, no one was able to prove that the book discovered in 1919 in Russia was actually written by the mighty god himself.

Now, if you take a closer look at the Slavic pantheon, Veles and Perun are the only two gods who appear in all Slavic mythologies, and it doesn’t matter if you’re Team V or Team P: the story about the two of them is more or less the same. They are in constant conflict. On one hand, Veles is always trying to defeat Perun, by kidnapping his wife, children, cattle, followers, basically everything and everyone he can get his paws on, while on the other, sooner or later, Perun always wins.

According to the most common version of the story, Veles, disguised as a snake, crawls up the World Tree, trying to reach its top. Namely, Slavs believed that the world is in fact a giant tree, with its roots representing Nav – the underworld – and its treetop representing the sky – that is, Jav.  As soon as Perun sees Veles the Snake crawling, he throws lightning bolts at him. According to the legend, once he beats Veles, Perun lets rain descend on the Earth, as a sign of victory. However, Veles always returns, so their antagonism basically represents the eternal struggle of good and evil and the universal goal of the bad guys everywhere: to become Caliph instead of the Caliph.

And finally, whether you’re one of those who see Veles, the god of beasts, as the mighty bear, the Slavic ruler of forests and nature, or you see him as the dark ruler of the underworld and the master of the dead, keep in mind: he’s big and he’s bad!

Perun vs Veles

(images retrieved from www.comicvine.com i www.kriegerman.deviantart.com)