Nicholas Papandreou

Father Dancing (Penguin, UK, 1996) same as above, English publishers The style of this enchanting book is both sensuous and sharp – Tom Sawyer goes to Thasos. – Gore Vidal Beautifully understated rites of passage – Christopher Hitchens  Read More →

Lambda is for Laothalassa Nick Papandreou When we first moved to Greece, my father’s mother, who lived with us, took on the task of improving our Greek. To grow into who we were, my grandmother said, meant learning Greek. She gave us Greek books to read but above all she insisted we learn to write Greek “beautifully.” She was determined, on this at least, not to let her grandchildren get away with the sloppy American writing habits acquired in the California public school system. “An... (more...)

Imagined Countries by Nick Papandreou Athens Greece As a bilingual hyphenated American writer now living in Greece, I am constantly comparing cultures. I fear I can see only with a double vision. What would they think of this back home, I hear myself saying half the time, when I encounter something extremely Greek. Prime time television Saturday night is mainly taken up with a dance-and-song fest. Singers, actors, politicians, and the emcee get together to drink, eat and dance in front of a live... (more...)

Threepenny Review, 2009, Summer Issue TABLE TALK On George Papandreou, the elder Recently I went to purchase a high-tech computer backpack at the new electronics mega-store called PUBLIC, located, appropriately enough, in the heart of Athens, Constitution Square. At the entrance of the large, refurbished nineteenth-century structure, where people sip coffee at a bar perched strategically in front of the store, stands a big bronze plaque: From this building, on October 18, 1944, George Papandreou,... (more...)

Nick Papandreou Threepenny Review, March 2006 I am a writer in a family with an enormous historical archive, a public record that just keeps growing and growing. Sound bites from my father’s and grandfather’s speeches (both prime ministers of Greece) have been quoted and regurgitated to me by the faithful since I was a child, though now I have ended up learning them from the original. This is because I have become the family’s keeper, collecting anecdotes, stories, letters, tapes, pictures,... (more...)

University of Athens library Friday September 14, 1999 Nicholas Papandreou, Ph.D. Last year we were honored to hear Amartya Sen discuss Andreas Papandreou’s work at the Memorial Lecture titled The political element in economic development. Professor Sen used this title on purpose, since it was also the title for Andreas’ 1966 Wicksell lectures. I will not examine Andreas Papandreou’s conception of politics, his belief in man’s freedom or his ideas concerning democracy. I would not... (more...)

Growing up in Canada at the height of the Vietnam War I had the chance to be part of a world that will probably never occur again, at least not in this or the next century. I’m not talking about the anti-war rallies in Toronto organized by the Quakers or the radical student groups, nor the protests in front of the American consulate nor even the intensity of the arguments in school with those who believed America was right to bomb Vietnam. I’m talking about being part of something that most... (more...)

Atalanti’s mother made the mistake of telling her neighbor about its lovely shape and soon the whole village of Vamvaku knew that her daughter’s mop was beautiful and budding and wonderfully small. Add to that a seventeen year old girl with thick hair, black eyes, light skin, and skirts cinched tight to her waist and you had all the makings for war. With no father to defend her (he was kicked in the head by a donkey one cold winter and froze to death) men started showing up at her doorstep like... (more...)

Jimmy made a living renting his stomach to anyone willing to shell out that extra dollar. He’d wait at the BP station off exit thirteen with a sign: “Rent-a-table: $3.00.” Families going for their picnic were his main customers. They’d pick him up, drive to the Pine Barrens and he’d bulk along best as he could, trailing behind, and catch up to them when they decided to stop. He’d make a clearing in the dirt, lie down, then spread a tablecloth he carried in his coat over his mountainous... (more...)