Articles

  • 3 weeks ago | kirkusreviews.com | Natalia Theodoridou |Kristin Hannah |Alison Espach

    A rich, relentless—if overlong—tale of violence and the men who wield it. Theodoridou’s “Bluebeard” retelling asks if monsters are born or made. An unnamed stage actress sits in her apartment, telling her young son a fairy story. Urged on by the ghosts of blood-drenched women that only she can see, she speaks of a boy born in a stately home.

  • Dec 2, 2024 | therumpus.net | Natalia Theodoridou

    After Mother puts you to bed and you’re almost asleep, another woman appears at the threshold of your bedroom door, backlit, her hair haloed by the yellow light of the hallway. She looks just like your mother, except she’s taller and there is no love for you on her face. There is, however, an urgency. And, urgently, she tells you stories. She tells you about a woman she knew when she was growing up. Her name was Stella. She was married to a guy with a motorbike.

  • Sep 3, 2024 | uncannymagazine.com | Natalia Theodoridou |Clockpunk Studios

    I’m getting ready for the block party: dark eyeliner, obligatory silver glitter (we’re on the moon, after all, we have our fashions), beard trimmed to perfection, hair carefully dishevelled. I do my best, yet the good mood won’t stay on, no matter what I try. Because the moon is cursed, isn’t it, and I feel like disappearing again. Neither of those things can be helped.

  • Aug 24, 2024 | clarkesworldmagazine.com | Natalia Theodoridou |Kate Baker

    Podcast, Original Fiction TEXT VERSION Our fifth podcast for July is “Aktis Aeliou, or The Machine of Margot's Destruction” written by Natalia Theodoridou and read by Kate Baker.

  • Aug 8, 2024 | beneath-ceaseless-skies.com | Marilyn Hope |Jonathan Olfert |Natalia Theodoridou

    Narrated by Cat Rambo. Rang and Sunder crafted slaws of vinegar and greens and sea salt, eating from the same spoon, and out-of-season wood ear mushrooms pillowed out on elder tree trunks like clouds the day Rang stripped Sunder of a glove and kissed his knuckles. Every time they touched, the world sparked with life and pungency and an unnamable, inorganic scent, as if the catalysts of their alchemy had yet to be invented.

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