Dimitris Eleas studied in London and is a writer, researcher, and political activist based in New York City. His work spans a wide range of texts, articles, essays, and books. In recent years, his writings have explored themes such as the Holocaust, Hellenism, contemporary America, the Left, Greek-Turkish relations, Castoriadian thought, and “the restaurant as a cultural space.” Between 2010 and 2012, and again between 2023 and 2025, Dimitris Eleas lived in major European cities, undertaking research –in honor of the Jewish people– on centuries of antisemitism, with particular attention to WWII and the Holocaust.) He is currently developing his new work — the novel/‘essay’in English, “The Black Birds of Warsaw” (a project in progress for fifteen continuous years).
The period 1585 – 1592 in Shakespeare’s life is often called his “lost years”. What drew you to write a novel about this enigmatic period, and how much is historical reconstruction vs. imagination in your narrative?
Ah, the “lost years”! A biographer’s nightmare, a novelist’s paradise. I was drawn to that glorious black hole in Shakespeare’s life the way cats are drawn to boxes – mysteriously and with full commitment. As for historical reconstruction vs. imagination? Let’s just say history provided ‘the flour and the eggs’, and my imagination baked the whole cake… with extra frosting. After all, if Shakespeare could invent words, surely, I can invent what he did on Mondays in 1588. To be a writer is ‘a glory’ and ‘a curse’…
You use Shakespeare’s life not simply as a biographical subject but as a way to explore contemporary issues. Could you describe how Shakespeare’s early years serve as a lens for them?
Absolutely… Shakespeare’s “lost years” let me weave timeless questions into a timely tale. I used his early silence as a mirror for today’s noise – inequality, identity, social media, power plays that would make even Hamlet say, “Seriously?” Through will, I explored our own messy situation. And let’s be honest: if young Shakespeare lived today, he’d be part poet, part protester, probably tweeting sonnets from a café while dodging rent, writing plays on his smartphone, and ghostwrite for other writers. And perhaps here, I could add that when I was younger myself, ‘I wagged my finger’ at Noam Chomsky, I met Jacques Derrida, and I even handed a letter to Jürgen Habermas. Why on earth did I do all that? Perhaps because I always had a sense that the early years in a person’s life will show them the path they’ll walk later on.
When writing historical or semi‑historical fiction, how do you view the role of the novelist: to imagine, to interpret, to question? What responsibilities come with fictionalizing periods about which we have only partial knowledge?
Ah, the novelist’s sacred duty: to imagine boldly… but not commit historical heresy (too often). I see myself as part detective, ‘part time-traveler’, part Shakespeare’s nosy neighbor. When facts fade, imagination steps in respectfully, like a guest at a royal banquet. The real responsibility? To ‘tell a lie’ that reveals a deeper truth. And to avoid putting Shakespeare in skinny jeans or a podcast – tempting, yes, but let’s not scare the Shakespearean scholars too much.
You have lived and worked in various cities – London, Warsaw, Cyprus, New York – and write in both Greek and English. How has that geographic and linguistic mobility shaped your sensibility as a writer?
Living in London ‘taught me’ how to be witty (not easy), Warsaw gave me resilience, Cyprus offered sunlight (and ‘ancient Greek imaginary’), and New York? Strong coffee, endless stories per square inch, and yet, some people in New York are stingy. Writing in both Greek and English is like having two passports to imagination, sometimes they argue at customs, but they always let the words through. Hmm. This cross-cultural chaos sharpened my empathy, expanded my humor, and gave my writing ‘the knowledge of everywhere’. Honestly, I think in aphorisms now. And if Shakespeare had traveled this much, he’d probably have written Othello as a romantic comedy on a ferry.
Your writings includes novels, essays, political activism, and commentary. How do these different modes interact in your work? Do you see them as distinct or part of a single project?
To me, it’s all ‘one chaotic’, beautiful project: telling the truth, or at least poking it with a sharp stick. Novels ‘let me dream’, essays ‘make me think’, activism ‘makes me yell’ (politely), and commentary ‘helps me connect’ the dots, often with a mischievous wink. They argue sometimes –the novelist wants metaphors; the activist wants a megaphone– but they share a messy desk in my brain. Honestly, it’s less of a writing process, more of a group revolutionary session… with ideas. (Regarding my activism, though, it might be worth mentioning here that some of my letters on various important issues have been published by prestigious newspapers such as The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, and The Washington Post.) I also wear a wig when I work on a novel… No, I don’t, but I should. Haha! Perhaps, in the end, behind everything lies what I would call “the three H’s: Humor, humility, humanity.” One day we leave…
As a political activist and writer, how do you see literature contributing to social or political change? Do you aim for your novels to provoke, to comfort, to educate, or some combination?
Literature can’t start a revolution alone, but it can whisper dangerously in the ear of one. I discuss many issues with some friends, such as the French-American activist David Andersson, the Kurdish-American author Kamuran Cakir, and Christos Morogiannis. And also, I don’t write to preach; I write to poke, to stir, to light small fires in quiet minds. If a novel can make you laugh, think, and maybe question why your visit at the dentist’s is higher than your rent, then I’ve done my job. I aim to provoke andcomfort, like a warm hug that delivers a reality check. And please… “buy ‘the damn book’, because I don’t want Shakespeare to lose his respect for Dimitris ELEAS.” Haha! Or buy a mirror, if you want – at the very least buy something…
As a small addendum here at the end, I want to thank, from the depths of my heart, Athina Rossoglou and Reading Greece website (of the Hellenic Ministry of Foreign Affairs). I am truly grateful and hope I proved worthy of your time. Greece must be protected by all Greeks and all Philhellenes as the apple of our eye. And every Greek abroad must be a quiet ambassador of this sacred and noble land… the land of my mother, my father, and all the ancestors, stretching from Homer’s time to our own.
*Ιnterview by Athina Rossoglou
TAGS: LITERATURE & BOOKS | READING GREECE
