Angela Costi reviews Stamatia X by Effie Carr
Stamatia X
by Effie Carr
ISBN: 9780648170716
Primer Fiction
Reviewed by ANGELA COSTI
Stamatia X is a novel fuelled by Greek philosophy, grammar, poetry and history to tell the riveting story of a Greek-Australian, migrant family’s return to their “homeland”. Nostalgia has no place to dwell in this book as the family of five return to civil unrest, violence and the absurd, rampant malpractice of a military dictatorship. The year of their return to Greece is 1973. This is the year of pent up, popular protest against the ruling colonels, when students occupied the Athens Polytechnic calling themselves the “Free Besieged”, demanding “Bread-Education-Liberty!”But then to be brutally bulldozed by a tank crashing the gates of the Polytechnic, leading to deaths, including 24 civilians. In the chapter titled, “17 November”, Effie Carr utilises the complexities of her main character, Stamatia, to reimagine this definitive historical event – the outcome is extraordinary.
Although Effie Carr’s Stamatia X was formally released in 2018, it wasn’t until 2019 at the Greek Writers’ Festival, based in Melbourne, that the book gained wider recognition among the literary community. It went on to be highly commended for the Book Prize 2019 by the Greek-Australian Cultural League. With its intricate weave of mythology, history and use of grammatical trope, it’s certainly deserving of a larger, international readership.
The third-person narration begins in 1970s Australia and is mostly told through Stamatia, a 13-and-a-half-year-old female, born in NSW of Greek migrants. Stamatia in Greek means “stop”. Stamatia is keenly aware of her father’s disappointment in her gender as he wanted his firstborn to be a son: “She thought her name was appropriate given that her father wanted to stop having any more female children” (9). Greek Orthodox patriarchal traditions are questioned through Stamatia’s intellect and distinct gift for learning. She has a photographic memory and significant synesthesia, enabling her to effortlessly recite the entire 158 stanzas of the ‘Hymn to Liberty’, a poem written by Dionysios Solomos, which is used as Greece’s national anthem. Her mother, Maria, despairs at Stamatia’s intellectual capacity:
Why did Stamatia have to be this way? She thought Stamatia had to learn to conform and become more selfless. Or else, be forced into it. No good could come of such an individualistic nature. There were more prospects in silent conformity. (36)
After Vasili’s alcoholic dejection at Stamatia’s birth, he grows to rely on his daughter’s resourcefulness and “studious disposition” (39). As the first born and the daughter, Stamatia is in the unenviable position of “parentifying” Vasili with his decision to return to Greece. In a surge of emotion, Vasili pushes the responsibility of making the decision to return to Greece onto Stamatia, and she unfortunately accepts:
She felt ashamed for him, that he was so confused and troubled. She was angry. She felt lost. She was floating in a vacuum… It was her decision, her journey now. She would have to make it her journey. By force if necessary. (39)
With resonances to Odysseus’s journey of return, Stamatia has quests and challenges to face before she disembarks in Greece. In particular, she is expected to know the Greek language as fluently as a well-educated, Athenian-born speaker. For the past four years she has been “in training”, “much like an Olympic athlete” (21). Vasili believes it’s imperative that his daughter “assimilate into the Greek high school system” (22) and so Stamatia is tutored rigorously for two hours, three times per week, by the perfectionist, Mr Lalas, a classics expert with one seeing eye “who had fled from Greece when the Junta had staged a military coup in 1967”(14).
The relationship between Mr Lalas and Stamatia is intriguing as it wavers between mutual respect (as if they’re philosophical peers) to one of mutual antipathy, as they labour over gruelling grammatical rules:
Stamatia loved studying the stories of the revered books, but found the endless conjugation of verbs and the outrageously huge tome of classical irregular verbs tedious and oppressive. (15)
As Stamatia conjugates verbs – delivering them from the past to the past continuous, and from the present to the present continuous – she realises her life seems stuck in the continuous present, the constant act of here and now without any sense of future.
In another reflective lesson with Mr Lalas, they explore the meaning of the word epistrophe. Although commonly known as a noun, its etymology is Greek and it means “to return”, “to turn upon” and further:
In music it meant a refrain, to return to an original melody. It was one word with so many possibilities. She loved that Greek had the capacity for expanded meaning. One small word could mean so much. (17)
This word, epistrophe, services the novel’s narrative arc splendidly. Its literal meaning in Greek is “turning about” which is what the final chapter conveys. As the story returns to the original migration from Greece to Australia. The journey embarked on by Vasili and Maria aboard the famous ship, the Patris, is told mainly through Maria, the young wife and mother-to-be. Maria is pregnant with her first born, Stamatia. As a developing foetus, Stamatia, expresses her dilemma from the womb:
How do I keep my head above water? I’m suspended yet connected to a giant placenta ball, which is connected to her. She feeds me. Breathes for me. Could I play with the placenta ball? Will this make me a boy? It could be good practice for when I’m in the park with my father. My mother is so worried. (238)
The refrain throughout the novel is how parental expectations of, and roles for, a Greek daughter are unequal and unfair in comparison to that of a Greek son. Stamatia’s two younger siblings are boys, and although they are not teenagers yet, their world of toys and games doesn’t seem to be compromised by responsibility or duty. Indeed, this story of inequality for Greek-Australian females within the Greek Orthodox social code is acknowledged through oral histories, news articles, the arts and literature. On a personal level, my own experience as the eldest daughter of a conservative Cypriot Greek household aligns with Stamatia’s discrimination and mistreatment.
Significantly, Effie Carr’s detailed rendering of Stamatia shows a multi-faceted character preventing shallow tendencies towards pitying women from culturally diverse backgrounds who experience oppression. Stamatia is both fascinating and feisty. Even as a six-year-old, she recognises the painful truth “that she had been supplanted, uprooted in her parents’ affection”(63) by the birth of her younger brother, Christos. But this little girl doesn’t hide from her anger and jealousy as she tries in desperate ways to regain her parents’ love and attention. There is her failed attempt to smother Christos with a pillow and then developing an eating disorder:
Stamatia realised that it was easy to stick her fingers down her throat and purge the
small quantities of food she was forced to eat. It was strangely satisfying to be able to do this. The reaction she got from her parents thrilled her. This was the final straw for Stamatia’s mother, who made an appointment with a child psychologist. (71)
From birth, Stamatia was destined to interrogate the status quo with her inquisitive mind and thirst for knowledge, therefore attempts to erase her identity and dignity are her epistrophe. The X after her name is apt. In Greece, when her father is ludicrously imprisoned by the corrupt regime, her status is elevated as her father’s saviour. She gives a most precious medallion, her only connection to her deceased Grandmother (Yiayia) Fotini, in exchange for her father’s release.
Still, on another level, we come to understand “the X factor” that drives Stamatia as human and signifies her as symbol. Her female body is acknowledged and activated in a sexual encounter in Greece with Philip, an 18-year-old. Although she is four years younger, she takes the lead, but panics when she hears her mother’s urgent voice, as she realises she’s no longer a virgin. She decides that her destiny differs from that of her mother’s: “She never wanted to marry a nice Greek man.” (128)
Stamatia’s story is also part of “the Greek continuous past” (112) as the novel is interspersed with vivid stories and memorable characters within the context of Greece during WWII, including its civil unrest and military dictatorship (during the early to mid-20th century). There’s Yiayia Fotini with her colourful dresses and swimming regime, the poignant war story of Giovanni Modeno and Sophia, as told through young Vasili, and the explosive incident that caused a gifted and political Lalas to lose his eye.
Stamatia X is another creative documentation of Greece’s history. One that doesn’t shy from showing complete systemic failure for Greeks who stayed and those who returned. It places the Greek daughter squarely in the foreground as she navigates between duties to her family and their country and finally, to herself.
ANGELA COSTI is known as Αγγελικη Κωστη among the Cypriot diaspora, which is her heritage and ancestry. She is a poet, playwright, reviewer and essayist. Her latest poetry book is An Embroidery of Old Maps and New, Spinifex 2021. Her latest chapbook is Adversarial Practice, Cordite Poetry Review, May 2024.