Tag: books

Farewell Letter by Janusz Zajdel – My Review

Hi, everyone! 🙂

Thanks to one of the recent prompts, I’ve decided to return to writing book reviews and sharing my thoughts and impressions about novels and stories I’ve lately read. I helps me organize my reflections, and I hope it will be useful to you too, especially if you are as passionate about literature as I am and you are looking for fresh recommendations 🙂

I learned about J. Zajdel through my husband, who knows of my love for the sci-fi genre, so he suggested I start reading this author, claiming that his style is somewhat like S. Lem. In truth, this isn’t entirely accurate. J. Zajdel was the second well-known sci-fi writer in Poland (after Lem), and they both wrote dystopian and sci-fi literature. However, while Lem often conveyed his novels in a very philosophical, sometimes even lofty fashion, which I personally appreciate a lot, Zajdel had a dry, consistent, logical style. This was probably affected by his other profession; he graduated with a major in physics and worked as a radiological engineer. One of his aims was to popularize science through literature, while another was to criticize the society and political states of his time (communism and dictatorships), which he brilliantly did.

Speaking strictly about the review topic, Farewell Letter is a short story collection composed by the author’s friends and wife after he died. It consists of his various pieces written at different moments of his life. It perfectly reflects his writing progress and gives insight into the constantly changing scope of the ideas that interested him. This collection also includes his interview, some excerpts from his novels, outlines for unpublished books and stories – very intriguing, by the way (he died at the age of 46, so he left them unfinished), and the recollections from his close circle, which portray J. Zajdel from the personal perspective. We get to know that he was a very warm and supportive friend and that he basically nurtured the present and future generation of Polish sci-fi authors.

His works were classified as sci-fi and dystopian. Still, you won’t find the mystical or pure fantasy elements in his stories, as was common with Bradbury or Lem. His narratives are very logical, concise, and painfully possible. In fact, he introduced some fictional aspects in his stories, like UFOs, teleportation, or alternative realities, but as I said before, it was not a typical fantasy fiction. These ideas and concepts are considered hypothetically possible by science. So the author described them as theories and paradoxes and played them out beautifully, testing them in his creative pieces. Also, everything happening on the pages of this story collection is justified and explained, providing a background for action. Most of the stories have nice dynamics and brilliant irony that balances his somewhat dry descriptions, which, along with capturing dynamics saves his literature from becoming dull or monotonous. My favorite among his works from this collection was The Other Side of the Mirror, because it included the elements I like: thrilling concepts (Zajdel played with a theory about dimensions and teleportation) and thought-provoking elements, something that broadens reader’s horizons.

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Unsafe Place: A Fictional Short Story Written For This Prompt

Daily writing prompt
What place in the world do you never want to visit? Why?
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DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination

‘So, tell me, what brought you here?’ the flat owner inquired with a certain shade of irony, the corners of his lips almost unnoticeably risen. Emily observed her boots shyly, embarrassed by her decision to come here. She had no choice though; she had looked for this book in all the shops and libraries but found nothing. She searched the internet and found only quotes and excerpts.

Patricia, her friend, mentioned that this guy was a rare book collector, and he had literally everything here, starting from the Egyptian Book of the Dead, ending with unpublished stories by A. Blackwood or even A. Hitler, if you chose. The collector’s name was Vincent, and he didn’t believe in censorship, so it was no surprise to see Justine by de Sade lying on his desk next to Mircea Eliade’s anthology, battered from frequent reading.

‘Not bad,’ thought the girl, appraising the flat from the corner of her eye. What surprised her even more were the large bookcases carved out of mahogany wood, neighboring with an impressive wine collection. Patricia told her that Vincent also specialized in martial arts, but as of now, Emily saw no visible signs of this: no cups, no belts, no diplomas. She wondered for a moment what relationship connected her friend and this seemingly eccentric man. He was quite attractive, though.

‘Doesn’t matter, I’m here for the book,’ she finally raised her head and met his inquiring gaze. ‘To be honest, I need a book for my thesis, namely Initiation and Its Forms in Life and Magic by S. I. Capelli,’ she declared loudly, unable to modulate her voice due to nervousness. ‘Sure, I have it. Sit down for a moment, would you?’ the man waved towards the black sofa squeezed in the corner between the wall and one of the bookcases. There was a picture hanging above, portraying a crowd of young women picking grapes among ancient columns. Emily sat down with slight awkwardness, breathing in deeply the vague smell of mahogany and oil paints.

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A Dream 11.04.2024: Sea, Snake, Amber, Grandfather

Photo by my Husband

At the beginning I was swimming in the sea. It was a sunny, warm day, perfect weather for enjoying the calm, transparent vastness of the water. At a certain point, my friend waved to me from the shore, and I joined her in a very short time, water dripping from me onto the soft, golden sand. She introduced me to a dark-haired, tanned guy and told me that he was “the one”. Sure thing, I was happy for her. We climbed onto the pier and watched the waves crushing against the stone. We discussed something, but I don’t remember the nature of the discussion, just the fact that we stood there watching until the sunlight lost its brightness, hiding shyly in the density of the clouds.

The wind grew cooler, and I felt a cold touch on my elbow. As I turned, I noticed a giant black snake coiling around my arm, its long fangs sinking into the skin of my wrist. I felt pain even though I was sleeping. There was no blood from the bite, only two raised bumps on my skin. My friend and her suitor called for an ambulance, and I was taken to the hospital.

A strange thing followed, though. Instead of undergoing some kind of treatment for being poisoned, I went through a series of X-rays, which caused me to go back in time. I became younger and younger until I reached the age of 15. Then, the nurse took me to an even larger X-Ray chamber and took a shot of the right half of my skull; it was important for the research, as she stated. After she finished, she let me out of the hospital.

The next thing I remember is returning to the seashore again. The clear water, shimmering in the sunlight, reached my knees. Once again, everything was peaceful and very clean; the sand was sparkling with gold and creamy hues. There were almost no people there, except for my deceased grandfather, who was sitting on the shore and smiling at me. I kneeled in the water and started sieving the sand through my fingers. To my surprise, there were plenty of amber hidden in the sand. I gathered a huge pile of tawny, glistening pieces and handed them to my grandfather so that he took care of them because I wanted to swim. He told me, ‘Learn the language, it opens many gates.’

And I woke up.

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Solaris by Stanislaw Lem

Daily writing prompt
What book could you read over and over again?
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I adore reading books. I read daily, usually several books in a row, in different languages, so that I develop not only my mind but also my linguistic skills. For me, personally, in order to be engaging, a story or a novel must be thought-provoking, elegantly written (I value the most “lacy”, melodic, metaphoric language, but not earthy or palpable, more like the descriptions conveyed in a pure dream matter), and dystopian at its best.

Frankly speaking, I’m not a fan of realistic prose, although I make exceptions for J. Fowles – whose books I read and reread several times, not only The Magus, I also find his other pieces exceptional. I admire V. Nabokov‘s books: he wrote so much more than Lolita; for instance, my favorite among his novels is Gift. I’ve enjoyed L. Durrell‘s The Alexandria Quartet as well. Additionally, I appreciated F. Dostoevsky‘s novels. Finally, I found Brontë sisters‘ prose and Tess of the d’Urbervilles by T. Hardy intriguing and bewitching.

Nonetheless, I find the most delight in reading fantastic fiction: sci-fi, dystopian, fantasy, horror stories and gothic novels. These genres match my inner world perfectly; I enjoy the atmosphere, and I feel that my mind works hard and speculates while reading. I relish this feeling: it’s as if my brain purred, like a happy and well-nourished cat.

Take R. D. Bradbury: one of the most prolific fiction authors, most known for his dystopian novel Fahrenheit 451. Apart for that, he wrote in multiple genres, including sci-fi, fantasy, horror and detective fiction. I find each of his works exceptional; he is a genius in crafting narrative line, poetic, mesmerizing language, and of course, philosophical depth. I believe, his stories, novel and essays are the epitome of everything a literature should be, and I aspire to be like him, honestly. I even wrote my thesis based on one of his short stories, which involved reading it over and over again 😉

But it’s not only Bradbury I’ve read more than once, I’ve also delved into the books of F. Herbert, A. Huxley, H. Lovecraft, A. Norton, U. Le Guin, K. Vonnegut, R. L. Stevenson, A. Blackwood, C. P. Gilman, J. Sheridan Le Fanu, and many more… I took pleasure in reading some of P. K. Dick novels, thus I’ll probably read them again.
Let’s also not forget C. Jung, I. Regardie and A. Podvodny, their works taught me a lot and shaped my worldview in many respects.
Speaking of religious literature, my favorites include the Poetic Edda (Norse tradition) and Ecclesiastes (The Bible).

Nevertheless, even though R Bradbury is my favorite writer, there is a novel that, in my opinion, is a triumph of literary perfection. This is Solaris by S. Lem. He is an author of contrasts; his novels are either phenomenal, or just hardly legible.

However, I’m truly amazed by Solaris. This book is composed of every literary feature I praise, along with a bittersweet note of romance, which in this case make the narrative even better. It is reflective, captivating, the language it is written in is a marvel. It leaves so many questions for a reader to ponder upon! It was almost impossible for me to break its spell and stop reading, even for a short while. And when I finished the book finally, I started it over in an instant. I definitely want to dive in this story again, to re-explore and re-live every bit of it. It’s a miracle.

If you are into thought-provoking prose combined with sci-fi elements, I strongly advise you to read it 🙂

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False Memories (Part 4)

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination


I woke up in the middle of the night, full of unease. I checked the time: it was 3 am. I fell back on the pillow, but my nerves were strangely strained, so I couldn’t relax. Something was off all the time: the pillow was uncomfortable, my heart was pounding loudly, I heard muffled noises and movements behind the walls and the door. The very air was filled with a menacing presence. 

First, I tried to calm myself down, to promise myself to visit the psychiatrist – it didn’t matter how angry I was at Desi, maybe she was right. I must do something with my rich imagination because it was out of bounds to the extent it wasn’t safe for me… I shut my eyelids firmly with an intent to fall back asleep and tried to steady my breath and feel the heaviness of my body, though still, everything about this quiet, moonlit room was disturbing. I felt as if someone was watching me, observing carefully, hatefully, hungrily… I pulled the blanket overhead, trying to drape myself in the warm darkness, to lull my thoughts, to trick my tired brain back into sleeping. Instead, I caught myself concentrating on the leaves I left at my friend’s kitchen, my thoughts instantly full of crimson and gold. Next, I was fixed at how she drummed with her fingers on the table when I asked for her opinion. I suddenly became infuriated at Desi all over again: she never actually knew me! That girl pretended to be some kind of guru when it came to people, but she never saw their true essence. Her constant gossiping is built of classifying, labeling and judging. Why did I even go for Desi’s help if all she knew about me was her assumptions and conjectures? People called that “friendship”? Seriously?!

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False Memories (Part 3)

Part 1
Part 2
Part 4

DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination

Three weeks had passed since the moment I had this dream. On the surface, life went on as usual: the unchanging routine, the same duties, the repeated actions at a constant pace and at an invariable time. I escaped from the mundane reality on my lonely immersive walks accompanied by music; I needed these shots of euphoria and freedom to keep myself from slipping into insanity, yet I was pretty close to it: drowning deeper and deeper in the bottomless sea of darkness, day after day, hour after hour, second after second.

First and foremost, I had these dreams full of eerie, unsettling, and absolutely obscene scenes. Seriously, I think that no one in their sane mind could dream of something that disturbing, definitely not unless they had watched a pile of sick, deviant horrors right before falling asleep. The worst thing about them was that they were very vivid, very personal, like memories.

Every night, I dreamed or perhaps even participated in deeds that went beyond the forbidden, but there was a touch of ancient mystery to that. What is more, something instinctive, dark, and almost primal filled these rituals. The fact that those things were acceptable in the wild made them innate and sacred for us.

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Paleolinguistics, anthropology, socionics/mbti

Daily writing prompt
Are there any activities or hobbies you’ve outgrown or lost interest in over time?
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I believe I’m quite a consistent person in this respect, if I pick a hobby it stays long with me. I’ve noticed that someone wrote in a daily prompt that they lost only the hobbies that were artificially endorsed by their parents… To tell you the truth, my parents didn’t care, and I was left on my own with my choices. Reading, or to be more exact, obsessive reading was my only way (except for my dreams) to get on with the life full of bullying – I was and I am strange and not really a people person. It also helped me to cope with unending family dramas constantly heated up by my relatives… I simply needed a way of escape from this difficult word, therefore I read. I was reading and reading. Reading when I woke up, eating breakfast with a book on my lap, dreaming on the road to school, hiding books during classes, diving into the narrative during recess, reading instead of doing homework, and forgetting to sleep because I must have finished this very particular book…

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Kinds of Initiation

Continuation of the previous post about initiations, and more information about Fire Magic(k)
So, initiations can be divided more or less into:

Photo by Lara Jameson on Pexels.com


1. Ceremonial group initiation: Normally, these happen in magic(k)al orders, or witchy covens, reiki classes and other spiritual gatherings. Honestly, I’ve never experienced a group initiation, and I definitely know that it might not be not so comfortable for me. However, I’ve read a lot about it and understand that it could be a very strong and deep experience. First of all, it’s usually pre-set and very dramatic, almost theatrical in nature, specifically aimed at making us more open to new energies and entranced in order to connect with the archetypes in our psyche, as well as the outer and inner sources of power. This type of initiation can be a powerful source of transformation. For some people, it is also a very important experience because then you are influenced by group energy and face archetypal trials and figures, not only inside, but also on the outside. Moreover, for some people, it is important to become part of a community where they feel supported by teachers and surrounded by potential friends.

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I’ll keep these books for later reading ;)

Martin, Kontinentalgermanische Runeninschriften, 2004.

Barnes, The transitional inscriptions, 1998

Answers to the Ròk, Futhark journal, 2015

Codex Vindobonesis 795 and Cotton Otho B.x.165

Bernard Mees, Runic amulets and magic objects, 2006

First Grammatical Treatise/ Codex Wormanius

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