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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 100 | volume  | September, 2015



                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 100September, 2015

For Igor Isakovski

p. 1
Elizabeta Lindner


Countless Books and Sighs for This Fucked Up World and Thirteen

I wanted, I wanted a lot to translate books from German to Macedonian and I looked, I looked for a long time for a publisher in Skopje with whom I would be able to cooperate at a different professional level than the one that had been usual for the publishing houses there. It was in 2007-2008 when I came across Blesok and Igor Isakovski, whom I had known from the times of Van Gogh and Nipon cafés, but I had never met him personally. I contacted him and with the very first drink at Jetro Tal with which we saluted to our future cooperation I had the feeling that we will make the world a more beautiful place with our enthusiasm and love to literature, with our hunger for books and literature, with the idea that we would make something big, something important… What a nice beginning of a fruitful cooperation which slowly grew into friendship and then into family.
     Indeed, as in every family we also had our conflicts and disagreements about this or that, we had at times outbursts of anger, but also a feeling of pain about the possible loss, which, luckily, led to honest and reasonable conversation, conflict resolution and inevitable strengthening of the existing mutuality.
     Again and again one has the feeling that it would all last, because we are young, and the world is hungry for good books and good thoughts, for certain quality of what is said, imagined, created… that someone would have to publish literary food in this stiff and automatized reality for a long time to come, and that we could give the world part of the beauty that we think it has deserved… outside the mediocre, outside the artificial and imposed, outside the quazi-intellectual and the mass that considers itself better and dictates this fucked-up reality… and who do not buy books anyway, not ours, but still they would be present and bring some value to the world. We wanted a different kind of beauty, for those who see it, even if they are few, it still has to, has to exist…
     Igor became insatiable, he worked as if it was breathing, as if he would not have breathed if he had stopped, and then neither the world nor reality would exists, because he would not breathe in them the

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