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The Phanariot Manuscript
[Excerpt]
Translated by Liana Grama & Andrew K. Davidson
Prologue
No story begins on the
first page of a book. The
Phanariot Manuscript is
no exception. A possible
beginning could be in
Sarai Library, where Sultan
Selim III came across some
compositions written so
cautiously that the musical
notes looked like mosquitos
drowning in coffee.
Selim hummed the tune, as
usual. Itwas a cheerful thing.
It startedoffwith some short
pattering and continued in
an ample manner, which
made it impossible not to
realise how many had put
their heart into that song.
He felt the paper, ignoring
the tiny signature found in
the corners. The same hand
had written under the notes
in a careful language, as if
especially to remind him of
the flawless bead-like figure
of his first teacher. The tune
flowed with the words.
There were three stanzas
that praised a city of all
types of happiness.
The song went to his heart
and by evening the entire
palace had learned it and
from there it spread to the
streets and, moreover, to
the taverns. Firstly, because
it came from the great
Selim, but also because it
was a lively tune, which
made your heart flutter