This event has been ended!
KARLOS KOLBAS: ZMAR v Košiciach, Bratislave, Žiline a Poprade
Karlos Kolbas: ASMR in Košice, Bratislava, Žilina and Poprad
Event by: Mestské divadlo Žilina, Karlos Kolbas - fanpage
Location: Global Education Centre s.r.o., Mojmírova 787/12, Staré Mesto
Other
About event
We invite to 4 ceremonial introductions of the new collection of short stories Karlos Kolbas
• Saturday 27.9. At 16:00
Košice Márai's room
as part of the LIKE festival, the author and publisher will perform, reads Peter Čižmár
• Monday 29.9. O18: 00
Bratislava Roma Roma House
Karlos Kolbas, Dado Nagy, illustrator Hugo Raýman, publisher KK Bagala, reads Ľubo Bukový
• Tuesday 30.9. At 18:00
Žilina Municipal Theater
In the reading room of contemporary literature, the author, publisher and illustrator
• Wednesday 1.10. At 18:00
Poprad bookstore Christiania
Moderates Lenka Fábryová, Poprad Literary Club
Karlos Kolbas: Mrzr
Dark view into the raw reality of the Slovak countryside - alcoholism, poverty, families in decomposition, moral dilemmas, generations and aggression. ubiquitous death. In the meantime, the author shows that today's contemporary Slovakia - the author does not look for a very specific humor. ”
(Dado Nagy)
Karlos Kolbas was born on November 3, 1981 in Poprad, living in Spišský Štiavnik. He has a son. He writes naturalistly, the harsh color enhances authentic dialogues and slang. In the literary competition, the story was awarded four times. He made his debut with a collection of short prose "All or Destroy" in 2020, but due to restrictions during the pandemic was not sufficiently distributed to the readers, so these texts were included as a bonus in this second collection "Pusom". The book was illustrated by Hugo Raýman, a fresh graduate of the Academy of Fine Arts and Design in Bratislava. Furniture ... "
Gypsy heads to the verge. It silences the amplion and pushes his head out of the window.
“And old pussy you don't buy?”
Gypsy puts his palm to the ear.
"I chat, if you do not buy old pussy.
A man at the goal turns and shows towards the garden.
"Cheap or her ladies. Dac daco for beer and cigarette and take it. You can do it with it.
A man just waving his hand and razing. The old one is based on the hoe, knows that the best he can do is not saying nothing.
(p. 47) He sat on the chair for three and a half hours while he was pushing the floor. Everyone, including a tavern, thought he was just drunk and fell asleep with his forehead on the table, as many times before.
He didn't have good memories of his father. Simple peasant with a tendency to aggressiveness. He could have been a clever carpenter, but he destroyed the talent with alcohol. And hard nature. He couldn't work with anyone, everyone was stupid, only he was always the wisest of the wise. The driving force and the meaning of life was hatred. He hated politicians, mercenaries, officials, health professionals, gypsies, neighbors, Bolsheviks, capitalists. As successful as poor. And he hated the son most of all. He showed him properly on every occasion. He hated him because he was handed to the mother with his appearance and nature. He also hated it, for everything he had ever been, but especially for died of ordinary pneumonia and he then had to take care of the whole farm himself.
Father loved only pine, beer and tobacco.
stands in front of his parents' grave and weight, whether to light a candle and the father, or just a mother. The shared grave confuses him. It is very difficult to remember her mother, it takes her to recall her face and thick black hair lowered on her shoulders. He was only six years old when she died. After her death, he lived alternately with her father and grandparents from the mother's side, depending on the stage of the father.
He remembers the funeral of the funeral as they lower him into the pit and no one cry. Few will gain courage to come to him with condolence. Half of it the few who came is looking forward to the funeral feast that will not eventually take place, and so they leave disappointment and irritation. It is a pity of time, reading them from tired faces.
He cannot get rid of the impression that the only thing his father had ever tried to teach him was to hate the whole world. He is glad he failed.
triggers a candle into a heart -shaped glass candlestick, knocks the lid and puts the candlestick on the father's part of the grave. Then she looks at his wife and little, smiles. She grabs him by his hand and puts his head on his shoulder. They just stand there for a while and listen to the rustling of the plastic. Then they step out the narrow walkway to the next grave.
(p. The events are organized in cooperation with KK Bagala and OZ Literary Club.
• Saturday 27.9. At 16:00
Košice Márai's room
as part of the LIKE festival, the author and publisher will perform, reads Peter Čižmár
• Monday 29.9. O18: 00
Bratislava Roma Roma House
Karlos Kolbas, Dado Nagy, illustrator Hugo Raýman, publisher KK Bagala, reads Ľubo Bukový
• Tuesday 30.9. At 18:00
Žilina Municipal Theater
In the reading room of contemporary literature, the author, publisher and illustrator
• Wednesday 1.10. At 18:00
Poprad bookstore Christiania
Moderates Lenka Fábryová, Poprad Literary Club
Karlos Kolbas: Mrzr
Dark view into the raw reality of the Slovak countryside - alcoholism, poverty, families in decomposition, moral dilemmas, generations and aggression. ubiquitous death. In the meantime, the author shows that today's contemporary Slovakia - the author does not look for a very specific humor. ”
(Dado Nagy)
Karlos Kolbas was born on November 3, 1981 in Poprad, living in Spišský Štiavnik. He has a son. He writes naturalistly, the harsh color enhances authentic dialogues and slang. In the literary competition, the story was awarded four times. He made his debut with a collection of short prose "All or Destroy" in 2020, but due to restrictions during the pandemic was not sufficiently distributed to the readers, so these texts were included as a bonus in this second collection "Pusom". The book was illustrated by Hugo Raýman, a fresh graduate of the Academy of Fine Arts and Design in Bratislava. Furniture ... "
Gypsy heads to the verge. It silences the amplion and pushes his head out of the window.
“And old pussy you don't buy?”
Gypsy puts his palm to the ear.
"I chat, if you do not buy old pussy.
A man at the goal turns and shows towards the garden.
"Cheap or her ladies. Dac daco for beer and cigarette and take it. You can do it with it.
A man just waving his hand and razing. The old one is based on the hoe, knows that the best he can do is not saying nothing.
(p. 47) He sat on the chair for three and a half hours while he was pushing the floor. Everyone, including a tavern, thought he was just drunk and fell asleep with his forehead on the table, as many times before.
He didn't have good memories of his father. Simple peasant with a tendency to aggressiveness. He could have been a clever carpenter, but he destroyed the talent with alcohol. And hard nature. He couldn't work with anyone, everyone was stupid, only he was always the wisest of the wise. The driving force and the meaning of life was hatred. He hated politicians, mercenaries, officials, health professionals, gypsies, neighbors, Bolsheviks, capitalists. As successful as poor. And he hated the son most of all. He showed him properly on every occasion. He hated him because he was handed to the mother with his appearance and nature. He also hated it, for everything he had ever been, but especially for died of ordinary pneumonia and he then had to take care of the whole farm himself.
Father loved only pine, beer and tobacco.
stands in front of his parents' grave and weight, whether to light a candle and the father, or just a mother. The shared grave confuses him. It is very difficult to remember her mother, it takes her to recall her face and thick black hair lowered on her shoulders. He was only six years old when she died. After her death, he lived alternately with her father and grandparents from the mother's side, depending on the stage of the father.
He remembers the funeral of the funeral as they lower him into the pit and no one cry. Few will gain courage to come to him with condolence. Half of it the few who came is looking forward to the funeral feast that will not eventually take place, and so they leave disappointment and irritation. It is a pity of time, reading them from tired faces.
He cannot get rid of the impression that the only thing his father had ever tried to teach him was to hate the whole world. He is glad he failed.
triggers a candle into a heart -shaped glass candlestick, knocks the lid and puts the candlestick on the father's part of the grave. Then she looks at his wife and little, smiles. She grabs him by his hand and puts his head on his shoulder. They just stand there for a while and listen to the rustling of the plastic. Then they step out the narrow walkway to the next grave.
(p. The events are organized in cooperation with KK Bagala and OZ Literary Club.