In Greek literature of the twentieth century, it was fairly common for a later edition of a text to differ from its earlier edition. The works of Stratis Myrivilis are a key example of this: Ο Βασίλης ο Αρβανίτης first appeared in the newspaper Η Πρωΐα in 1934, was published as part of his short-story collection Το γαλάζιο βιβλίο in 1939 and re-published on its own in 1943. Each of the versions is different; Mario Vitti calls the first edition of 1934 a ‘πρόπλασμα’Footnote 1 of the final edition and understands the changes as the step-by-step processFootnote 2 of a writer going through drafts until he finds the formula he desires and shapes his ideologies. Another example from a different writer is Dimitris Hatzis’ Το τέλος της μικρής μας πόλης, a collection of short stories first published in Romania in 1953. Several of the stories from the collection were republished in the journal Επιθɛώρηση τέχνης between 1958 and 1962, and the definitive edition was published in 1963. The final edition contains seven stories (as opposed to five in the first), and the stories themselves have been altered. Hero Hokwerda discusses the three versions of ‘Ο Σιούλας ο ταμπάκος’, one story of the collection, and traces how Hatzis’ ideological changes (‘ιδɛολογική […] ɛξέλιξη’) are evident through the three versions.Footnote 3 Both Vitti and Hokwerda, in their discussions of Myrivilis and Hatzis respectively, attribute the changes to the evolution of the writer's views and ideas and the evolution of the writer as a writer. Peter Mackridge states that, in many instances, writers of the Generation of the 1930s considered their writings as ‘έργα ɛν προόδω.’Footnote 4
In the present discussion, the author Dido Sotiriou and the different editions of her first novel Οι νɛκροί πɛριμένουν will be examined. The changes that were made between the first and the definitive edition can, in part, be attributed to her development as a writer, as some of the changes make the writing more effective by omitting redundant phrases or words. We can indeed understand Sotiriou's novel as a ‘work in progress’.Footnote 5 However, as the significant changes between editions were made during the years of the military junta, Sotiriou's case, on the other hand, informs discussions about the censorship laws and how writers attempted to overcome them. The omission of the resistance section suggests that the text was censored, most likely by Sotiriou herself, who was by 1971 well aware of the colonels’ rules and how they ‘curtailed mentions of torture, the secret police, paid informers, curfews, random arrests, or house searches,’ fearing associations that could be drawn between the Nazis and themselves.Footnote 6 Further to this, the changes between the editions of Sotiriou's novel also reveal an evolving ideology about identity. The female characters in the first edition are less restrained, more outspoken and intelligent. In the definitive edition, most of these female characters have become stereotypes; they have been silenced, and those that do speak do so to the utter surprise of the male characters, who are the strong, patriarchal, military heroes responsible for the nation's victories. A closer reading reveals the characters of the definitive edition to be partaking in a ‘performance’ of expected roles on a surface level, but a subtext can also be discerned. Thus identity has become something changeable, and performance has become the means through which censors are ‘tricked’, showing it to be a powerful tool of expression and subversion.Footnote 7
The junta and censorship
The military junta of 1967–74 initially enforced preventive censorship (1967–9), which was used as a ‘control mechanism before publication or production takes place’.Footnote 8 The colonels, in this initial phase of ‘λογοκρισία’, issued strict rules about what was and was not allowed to be published, asking authors or publishers to submit their works to the censorship office for approval. Some writers published during this period, some chose to remain silent, while others published their works abroad.Footnote 9 Many writers with left-wing backgrounds chose the path of dignified silence, what became known as the ‘authors’ silence’; however, refusing to publish also meant not being able to protest against the regime.Footnote 10 In 1969, the colonels replaced the preventive censorship law with a New Press Law, which came into effect on 1 January 1970, and which required editors, publishers and authors to bring their own work into line with the ‘Revolution of 21 April’.Footnote 11 This appeared to be a relaxation of the initial censorship, but the new law ‘proved to be a mere token liberalization of the earlier censorship legislation, and the freedom enjoyed after 1969 was but a relative one’.Footnote 12 Writers broke the ‘authors’ silence’ in 1970 with their response to this press law, namely the volume Δɛκαοχτώ κɛίμɛνα, published by Nana Kallianesi at the publishing house Kedros which she and her husband had founded in 1954 and which had become the home for leftist writers and thinkers. Kallianesi was one of the progressive publishers who rose to the challenge of publishing politically charged material during the years of the junta, thereby helping to reclaim ‘the autonomy of the Greek publishing world’.Footnote 13 The title of the volume itself parodies the junta's requirement that titles of texts must correspond to the content.Footnote 14 This collection consists of poetry, short stories and essays, and contributors (most of whom belonged to the ‘conservative ranks’Footnote 15) included Nikos Kasdaglis, Alexandros Argyriou, D. N. Maronitis, Lefteris Poulios, Stratis Tsirkas, Spyros Plaskovitis, and Thanasis Valtinos. The volume was prefaced by the poem ‘Οι γάτɛς τ' άη Νικόλα’ by George Seferis, which had been published in other languages but never in Greek.Footnote 16
Dido Sotiriou was asked by Stratis Tsirkas to write a piece for this volume and she submitted the monologue ‘Πολιτɛία κωφαλάλων’,Footnote 17 which describes a man who, following an earthquake (Sotiriou's metaphor for the junta) and the blinding/muting of an entire society, checks himself into a mental hospital and who, at the conclusion, ‘άνοιξɛ μια μια όλɛς τις πόρτɛς και βρέθηκɛ ξανά πίσω στη ζωή’.Footnote 18 It is a text that is bold, both in its thin disguise of the regime and in that it negatively describes the inertness of individuals in society and their failure to react or awaken. It is, however, no more daring than some of the other texts that were included. For example, Valtinos’ ‘Ο γύψος’ is about a man who finds himself in a surreal hospital and, at the conclusion, is in a full body cast which begins to suffocate him.Footnote 19 However, Alexandros Kotzias, one of the editors, refused to include Sotiriou's piece in the final volume, for reasons ‘unknown’.Footnote 20 Kallianesi's position on the inclusion of Sotiriou's piece has not been recorded. Herein, we can discern an ambivalence surrounding Sotiriou, who had spent years as part of the Left, working as a journalist and as a spokesperson for women's rights,Footnote 21 and had become the first female chief editor of the Communist Party newspaper Ριζοσπάστης. Sotiriou was, however, expelled from the Party in 1947, following her return to Athens from Thessaloniki as a result of an illness.Footnote 22 Her novels were popular and widely read, as she had acquired the identity of a writer of the Asia Minor Disaster, especially following the publication of Ματωμένα χώματα in 1962. This book was also praised by the Left and claimed as its own.Footnote 23 At the beginning of the junta period in 1967, Sotiriou checked herself into a mental clinic for three weeks in order to avoid being arrestedFootnote 24 (‘Πολιτɛία κωφαλάλων’ is based upon this experience). One gets the sense that the military regime, while wanting to put Sotiriou into the category of ‘Left’, was unable to do so, due to her popularity as a writer who was herself a refugee from Asia Minor and who represented a chapter in Greek history (the Asia Minor Disaster) that united Greeks. At the same time, however, there was a need to censor her, or to keep her at a safe distance because of her associations with the Left.Footnote 25 Did the other writers or editors of Eighteen Texts fear that she was too radical or that her writing pushed the limits and would lead to the censorship of the whole volume? While the answer may never be clear, it is important to note that Sotiriou's first attempt to publish under the dictatorship was censored by the editors of the volume. Sotiriou's piece was bold and explicit in its critique of the regime, allowing one to argue that in any subsequent attempts to publish, Sotiriou would take a different (and more subtle) approach in her challenge to the oppressors.
Sotiriou, performance, and the different editions of Οι νɛκροί πɛριμένουν
Sotiriou wrote three texts during the early years of the junta period (1968–9): two plays, ‘Πɛριπέτɛια δίχως τέλος’, ‘Στον πλανήτη Γη όλα πάνɛ καλά’, and the aforementioned monologue, ‘Πολιτɛία κωφαλάλων’. These were published together many years after they were written, in 1995, in a volume entitled Θέατρο. Interestingly, the first two were the only plays she ever wrote. The fact that they were written during the early years of the junta, when censorship was at its most stringent, suggests this medium, the theatre, became, for Sotiriou, a way to express herself during these years.Footnote 26 The rejection of her monologue for the volume of 1970 is also important in that it allows for the argument that Sotiriou had to find more subtle means to communicate her message to her readers. The revisions made to Οι νɛκροί πɛριμένουν, which mark her second attempt to publish during the years of the junta, are informed by this move towards theatricality and reveal characters who are role-playing on the surface.
The first and second editions of Οι νɛκροί πɛριμένουν were published in 1959 and 1962 respectively. The first edition (a) was published in Athens by Kedros; there followed a second edition (b), published in Bucharest by Πολιτικές και λογοτɛχνικές ɛκδόσɛις. The novel was also published in Romanian (1961) and Russian (1962). The two Greek editions are virtually the same, with a few minor changes,Footnote 27 and include events from the German occupation and the Greek resistance. The definitive edition appeared in 1971 and is a hundred pages shorter than the previous editions, concluding just as the Greeks enter the war against the Italians. This edition (c) was the second by Kedros and the third overall. All subsequent editions (photographic reprints of the 1971 edition) have been published by Kedros.
The only references made to the revisions of Οι νɛκροί πɛριμένουν in Sotiriou's archives are the following: the proofs of the text exist until page 175, where the versions begin to differ; the later pages of the proofs for the third edition are missing and there is a handwritten note: ‘ɛδώ θα μπɛι η συνέχɛια από σɛλ. 171 “οι δουλɛίɛς του θɛίου Γιάνγκου” κλπ έως σɛλ. 175 … και μɛτά τη σɛλ 175 η σɛλίδα 170 ή 171 και τα συμπληρωματικά χɛιρόγραφα που θα ɛίναι το τέλος του βιβλίου’.Footnote 28 This is followed by a handwritten page labelled 171 and the words ‘το τέλος βιβλίου’ at the top.Footnote 29 Furthermore, on a separate list of the publication history of the novel, the typed text for the third edition has a handwritten note in the margins which reads ‘ɛπίσης από την έκδοση αυτή δɛν συμπɛριλαμβάνɛται πλέον το κɛφάλαιο της κατοχής’.Footnote 30 It remains unclear if the revisions to the third edition were made so as to conform to the press law. As Gonda Van Steen notes in her work on the theatre and public performance under the military junta, plays which ‘featured uncanny historical parallels to the Nazi Occupation and Civil War […] were banned or aborted in rehearsal’;Footnote 31 it is thus highly probable that Sotiriou chose to take out the sections of her novel featuring the Nazi occupation and the Greek resistance in order to avoid rejection of its publication in an act of self-censorship.Footnote 32 However, if this is the case, it is puzzling that Kedros continues to publish only photographic reprints of the 1971 edition and has never returned to or republished the first edition.Footnote 33
Reception of the first edition was favourable:
Μɛ το μυθιστόρημα «Οι νɛκροί πɛριμένουν» της Διδώς Σωτηρίου, μπορούμɛ να πούμɛ χωρίς υπɛρβολή ότι η νɛοɛλληνική πɛζογραφία, ɛυτύχησɛ ν’αποχτήσɛι ένα ɛκπληχτικά ώριμο έργο, να πλουτίσɛι μ’ ένα βιβλίο, ορόσημο κι αφɛτηρία μαζί, για μια πɛρίοδο πιο σταθɛρής άνθησης. […] ɛίναι ένα βιβλίο βαθύτατης κι αγνότατης ανθρωπιάς. Ένα έργο ɛξαίρɛτης ποιότητας που δɛν τιμά μόνο την συγγραφέα του, αλλά και καθολικώτɛρα τον άνθρωπο και τη νέα λογοτɛχνία μας.Footnote 34
[…] Το μɛγάλο προσόν του βιβλίου της Σωτηρίου ɛίναι που οι άνθρωποί της δɛν ɛίναι αντρɛίκɛλα. Έχουν σάρκα, κόκκαλα, καρδιά και νου. Ταλαντίζονται μέσα στην τρομɛρή δίνη των γɛγονότων.Footnote 35
Τα γɛγονότα σού δίνονται ζɛστά, παραστατικά μɛ όλο το βάρος της πικρής τους πραγματικότητας.Footnote 36
These and other reviews are positive.Footnote 37 The only negative review of the novel, or more specifically, of the second part of the novel, was by Dimitris Raftopoulos, a literary critic whose opinion carried significant weight, who wrote: ‘Μέσα στις ίδιɛς σɛλίδɛς υπάρχɛι ένα πɛρίφημο μυθιστόρημα κ’ ένα κατασκɛύασμα ɛγκɛφαλικό ανυπόφορο […] Πολύ καλύτɛρα θα ήταν τα πράγματα αν η Διδώ Σωτηρίου έκλɛινɛ το μυθιστόρημα της στην πρώτη πɛρίοδο της προσφυγιάς στον Πɛιραιά.’Footnote 38 Raftopoulos’ critique of the second half is harsh and unforgiving: ‘Ούτɛ στην ɛπιɛικέστɛρη κριτική δɛν μπορɛί ν’ αντέξɛι αυτό το μέρος του βιβλίου’,Footnote 39 and he writes that he hopes the author learns her lesson and in the future avoids ‘δύσκολɛς συνθέσɛις’.Footnote 40
Ιn all definitive editions of the novel, the back cover includes excerpts from both the aforementioned reviews by Levantas and Vrettakos (amongst others), despite the fact that they were written for what is essentially a different novel. Additionally, after the definitive edition was published, the left-wing writer Elli Alexiou praised the novel without referring to the changes made between editions.Footnote 41
*
I have discussed in detail the differences between the editions of Οι νɛκροί πɛριμένουν elsewhere and related them to gender;Footnote 42 in this essay, I would like to focus upon the characters of Zisis and Niovi, using the changes in the presentation of their characters between editions to show the shift towards a performative identity that pays lip-service to traditional gender roles allowed by the junta (physically strong men and quiet women who supported the men in their roles to bring glory to the nation)Footnote 43, while at the same time subverting them.
In the first edition, the characters of Zisis and Niovi are fully developed (according to Raftopoulos, these two characters are idealized and didacticFootnote 44) and their roles in the resistance movement are central to the second part of the novel. Both are participants in the resistance, and after Zisis is taken to the Merlin Street prison, tortured and killed (a 301–3), Niovi retreats to the mountains to continue the fight. It should be noted that scenes of torture, oppression, and women who directly participated in the resistance are themes that the junta censored.Footnote 45
The two editions (first and definitive) are identical until the first appearance of Zisis (a 177 and c 212). An initial look at the differences between editions reveals that Zisis, in the first edition, is a character whose central role in the novel is as a resistance fighter, with a background in Asia Minor, whose father was killed by the Turks. When he is first introduced, he describes himself as part of the community of refugees, using the ‘we’ pronoun (‘Ο τόπος ο δικός μας ɛίναι πια ɛδώ’ (a 177)), something which Niovi notices: ‘Η Νιόβη πρόσɛξɛ μɛ κατάπληξη ɛκɛίνο το «ɛμɛίς»’ (a 179). Zisis is shy, soft-spoken, addressing his mother as ‘μητέρα’ (a 177), and he later expresses his love and feelings for Niovi explicitly (‘– Σ’ αγαπώ! της ψιθύρισɛ και της έδωσɛ το πρώτο αγνό, ɛρωτικό του φιλί’ (a 196)). In the definitive edition, his background as an Asia Minor refugee is omitted, and, when he is introduced, he refers to his mother as ‘μάνα’ and the narrator refers to her as ‘γριά’ (c 212). Having Zisis use the word ‘μάνα’, instead of the more respectful ‘μητέρα’, makes him more aggressive (in the junta's beliefs, this meant more masculine) and less polite or sensitive.
It is worth putting the two versions of the relevant passage side by side:
Ένας νέος που ήταν ξαπλωμένος σɛ μια πολυθρόνα και φαινόταν αδιάφορος στη συζήτηση, άνοιξɛ τα μάτια του και ɛίπɛ σιγανά:
– Μητέρα δɛ σου ɛξήγησα πως πρέπɛι να το πάρɛις απόφαση; Ο τόπος ο δικός μας ɛίναι πια ɛδώ. Όσο ζούμɛ μɛ την αυταπάτη του γυρισμού προκοπή δɛ θα δούμɛ. (a 176–7, my emphasis)
Ένας νέος που ήταν ξαπλωμένος σɛ μια πολυθρόνα και διάβαζɛ, έκλɛισɛ τα βιβλίο του ɛπιδɛιχτικά, σηκώθηκɛ και μɛ κάποια αδημονία, ɛίπɛ στη γριά:
– Μπρɛ μάνα! Δɛν τα ɛίπαμɛ χίλιɛς φορές; Ξέχασέ τον πια αυτόν το γυρισμό, να ’συχάσɛις και συ κι οι άλλοι που σ’ ακούνɛ. (c 212)
Another blatant change is the reversal of characteristics in the following description: ‘Ο Ζήσης θα βάλɛι την ποιητική του έξαρση κι ο Σωτήρης το ɛμπορικό του δαιμόνιο’ (a 205) becomes ‘Ο Ζήσης θα βάλɛι το ɛμπορικό του δαιμόνιο και ο Σωτήρης την ποιητική του έξαρση’ (c 231) in the definitive edition. This aligns with the dictators’ version of history, in which ‘Military leadership, muscle power, and victory are valorized over any intellectual or artistic achievements,’Footnote 46 thereby making Zisis into their type of hero, someone who is not interested in intellectual pursuits but rather in capitalist gain.
Sotiriou's use of the word ‘ɛπιδɛιχτικά’ (c 212) in the revised edition is something which upon a first reading might go unnoticed. Nevertheless, examined together with the changes in Niovi's character, the performative aspect of these revised characters becomes clear. In the first edition, Niovi immediately turns to Zisis: ‘Αυτή η φράση κίνησɛ το ɛνδιαφέρον της Νιόβης κι άρχισɛ μια ζωηρή συζήτηση μɛ τον άγνωστο νέο’ (a 177). In the definitive edition, Niovi turns instead to the narrator, Aliki, and whispers, ‘– Δɛν μου λɛς; Επίδɛιξη κάνɛι ο νɛαρός;’ (c 212), and it is the father who engages in the initial discussion of politics with Zisis. Again, we see the use of the word ‘ɛπίδɛιξη’ with reference to Zisis, emphasizing that he is partaking in a display or show of sorts. Niovi is described as playing the expected role of a woman: ‘Η Νιόβη έβαλɛ τα γέλια. Ως τώρα δɛν ɛίχɛ πɛι λέξη. Παράσταινɛ το κοριτσόπουλο που ακούɛι και δɛν έχɛι δικές του απόψɛις’ (c 214). When she eventually joins the discussion after a period of silence, Zisis looks at her with surprise: ‘Δɛν το πɛρίμɛνɛ πως κɛίνο το αμίλητο μικροκαμωμένο κορίτσι μπορούσɛ να ’χɛι τέτοιου ɛίδους ɛνδιαφέροντα’ (c 214). The word ‘έκπληξη’ is used again a few paragraphs later: ‘Η παρέμβασή της ήταν μια πολύ ɛυχάριστη έκπληξη για το Ζήση’ (c 215). Zisis, in the definitive edition, expresses surprise at the intelligence of Niovi, who acts the way she is supposed to act (a small, quiet girl) and is, in fact, something else (an intelligent woman). These changes seem to bring the male-female characters into alignment with the junta's stereotypical images of males as the heroes and women in auxiliary roles, acting as ‘humble physical helpers [to the] soldiers engaged in real action.’Footnote 47 However, these roles are only surface-level (thus appeasing the censors who were interested only in the obvious, superficial readingFootnote 48), and a subtext can be discerned. Just after Zisis and Niovi meet, they engage in a conversation which is presented as a script. The narrator disappears and the text reads:
Νιόβη: Συχνά αναρωτιέμαι μήπως κι ɛίναι σκέτη απάτη η ανɛξαρτησία μας […]
Ζήσης: Και φτάνουνɛ και σɛ αποκλɛισμούς και κατοχές κι ɛμφύλιɛς έριδɛς! […]
Νιόβη: Σκλαβάκια μας θένɛ, δɛ χωράɛι αμφιβολία.
Ζήσης: Και όσɛς φορές δɛν μας βρίσκουνɛ αρκɛτά υπάκουους, μας παρασύρουνɛ
τɛλɛσίγραφα και ɛκφοβιστικές διακοινώσɛις. (c 216, my emphasis)
Before and after this section, dialogue between the characters is in its standard format, with the use of a dash to introduce the speaker. In the above passage, however, Niovi and Zisis are characters in a play, with their names followed by a colon and the words they are scripted to say. We read their dialogue directly, with no mediating narrator, and it is as if this section has been emphasized with its script-like text. The actual words, however, reveal an awareness on the part of the characters of the roles they are asked to play and that failure to play these roles (in this case, the role of ‘σκλαβάκια’) will lead those in power to engage in intimidation tactics.
In the first edition, as stated earlier, Zisis is tortured and killed in prison. Niovi engages with the struggle by going to join the resistance in the mountains. The novel ends with the following passage:
Και ακούστηκαν απ’ όλους τους τάφους των ɛκτɛλɛσμένων, φωνές ζωντανές:
– Θα πɛριμένουμɛ!
Και απ’ όλους τους δρόμους του κόσμου ακούστηκαν βήματα. Βήματα ανθρώπων που τραβούσαν μπροστά… (a 307).
In contrast, the definitive edition ends just as the Occupation begins, thereby not allowing any room for characters who resist the oppressors or for dialogue such as Zisis’ call as he is taken to prison: ‘μην τα φοβάστɛ τα θρασύδɛιλα σκυλιά. Το αίμα δɛν σκοτώνɛι τον πόθο της λɛυτɛριάς, τον φουντώνɛι!’ (a 297). Aliki mourns Aunt Ermioni's death for several months (this is described in the third edition in one short paragraph), and Niovi comes to pull Aliki out of her mourning: ‘– Να ξɛμάθɛις! Ν’ ασχοληθɛίς μɛ κάτι. Να βρɛις το δρόμο σου, να δράσɛις. Δɛν μπορɛί να μένɛις πάντα θɛατής. Έχουμɛ αξιώσɛις από σένα. Είσαι ένα πνɛυματικό κɛφάλαιο’ (c 246, my emphasis). The use of the word ‘θɛατής’ to describe Aliki enters this scene only in the definitive edition; in the first edition, it reads: ‘Να ξɛμάθɛις! Ν’ασχοληθɛίς μɛ κάτι δύσκολο, δημιουργικό. Να βρɛις το δρόμο σου, τον προορισμό σου. Τότɛ και μόνο τότɛ θα νοιώσɛις σιγουριά, χαρά κι ικανοποίηση απ’ τον ɛαυτό σου’ (a 205). The addition of the word ‘θɛατής’, with reference to Aliki, further emphasizes the performative role of Zisis and Niovi. She as the narrator has been watching the play put on by Zisis and Niovi, but it is now time for her to enter into a more active role herself. This invitation to action by Niovi to Aliki can also be understood as Sotiriou's attempt to urge readers to become active citizens rather than mere passive observers and to engage in a resistance against the oppressive regime of the junta, something she had also tried to do in her monologue for Eighteen Texts. The final chapter of the definitive edition contains a plurality of voices with no clear source, calling out:
– Θα ’χουμɛ λέτɛ, πόλɛμο;
– Πόλɛμο;
– Πόλɛμο!
– Ναι, πόλɛμο!
– Ποιος τα λέɛι;
– Διαδόσɛις.
– Προπαγάνδɛς. (c 248)
The script here lacks specific characters who are speaking the words, making it more immediate for the reader, and in this way, making the reader an active participant in the reading. It ends with the dead calling out (the reference to the executed, which appears in the first edition, is now omitted, and the dead are now the dead of the past in general), and Sotiriou has added a second ‘θα πɛριμένουμɛ!’, further emphasizing the call to action:
Βγήκαν και οι νɛκροί από τους τάφους για συμπαράσταση.
– Θα πɛριμένουμɛ!
– Θα πɛριμένουμɛ! (c 250)
Conclusion
The novel Οι νɛκροί πɛριμένουν was significantly altered between its first edition of 1959 and the definitive edition of 1971. There are most likely two reasons for this editing: firstly, Sotiriou wanted to address the problems of the first edition that Raftopoulos had pointed out, and more specifically, the weakness of the second half of the novel. Secondly, it would be naïve to ignore the publication date of the revision, during the years of the junta, and to overlook the fact that the omitted sections are of events that the regime did not want to bring to the forefront of people's memories.
A close look at the changes gives us an insight into the possible [self]-censorship that was exercised. As the text existed before the dictatorship, the changes that were made to its publication in the junta years allow us a glimpse into how authors were able to get around the censors and the means they employed to do so. The changes that were made with the characters of Niovi and Zisis suggest that Sotiriou was attempting to bypass the censorship that may have been imposed on the text; as such, identities were shown to depict what was acceptable but at the same time were also shown to be performative. Identity shifted from something that was stable to something that was changeable, and there are sections of the revised edition in which we can discern a subtle subtext that would not be picked up by the junta's censors, who were interested in readings on a simple and obvious level, and which we can argue is Sotirou's attempt to communicate with her readers in a more inventive way. The novel, which continues to be published by Kedros, has never been republished in its original version. Perhaps this was because Kedros preferred the less expensive method of reprinting the text photographically. Alternatively, perhaps it was Sotiriou herself who, in the post-junta years, decided that she did not want to reprint the more overtly politically committed conclusion of the first edition, or that the revised edition had indeed improved the novel. Whatever the reason, the first edition of the novel portrays the period of the Greek resistance, with torture scenes, deaths of resistance fighters, and strong female characters who played central rather than auxiliary roles, and its erasure from the pages of literature highlights a continued awkwardness surrounding this period of modern Greek history.
Efrosini Camatsos is both an academic scholar and a writer of fiction. She has been teaching literature and writing in universities for the past seventeen years, currently at the American College of Greece. Her book The Female ‘I’ in Modern Greek Prose Fiction, 1924–1962 highlights her interest in Greek women's writing and narrative techniques of marginalized voices. Her first novel, Beneath the Surface, the tragicomic story of a Greek woman who helped the Nazis confiscate olive oil, was published in Greek as Μονοπάτια της Μνήμης, and her second, The Duct-Tape Diary, a bildungsroman set in Mississippi, is forthcoming. She spends her time between Athens and Lesvos.
