Krasimir Dimovski received the ‘13 Centuries of Bulgaria’ 2025 National Literary Prize for Bulgarian Novel of the Year for ‘Theseus in His Labyrinth. The Diary of a P’.
Dimovski, a journalist who has worked for many years at the Maritsa newspaper, has, for two decades, produced his own daily column with cartoons, for which he was awarded the Plovdiv Prize for Journalism in 1997. He has also held two solo cartoon exhibitions. Moreover, he composes poetry and writes short stories and novels.
In 2025, he entered the NEF ‘13 Centuries of Bulgaria’ 2025 Prize for Bulgarian Novel of the Year for the first time, with ‘Theseus in His Labyrinth. The Diary of a P’ (2024, Hermes Publishing House) competing against 32 other novels before being judged the winner.
Bisera Yosifova, Executive Director of NEF ‘13 Centuries of Bulgaria’, announced the winning novel at the official award ceremony held in the Sofia City Art Gallery. Georgi Sultanov, Deputy Minister of Culture, presented Krasimir Dimovski with his prize, congratulating him for his contribution to contemporary Bulgarian literature.
Krasimir Dimovski answered questions exclusively for Untold Stories:
- Who is Krasimir Dimovski?
A child who had the chance to be born and live the first 11 years of his life among the small humankind between Mogila and Mogilchitsa. The energy I accumulated during this short time fuels me to this day: my imagination, the sensuality of the senses, the sense of colours and words.
Childhood is the homeland of humankind, and the energy of the homeland is primary and the strongest. It also pointed me in the direction I follow now. As Picasso said: ‘When I was a child, I could draw like Raphael, but it took me a lifetime to draw like a child.’
- What do you think of the NEF ‘13 Centuries of Bulgaria’ competition?
It is truly valuable: always with an exceptionally well-selected jury, and—I must admit—with an extremely positive effect. The point of a major award, which the Novel of the Year indisputably is, is to arouse the curiosity of a broad range of readers and for the book to be read by more people.
Only two weeks after the award, ‘Theseus in His Labyrinth’ already has a second edition. And the literary tour around the country is enjoying increasing interest.
This year, the nominated books—without exception—are incredibly powerful, and I recommend that everyone reads them.
- What inspired you when writing the novel?
Inspiration is a peculiar frame of mind. It cannot be summoned by force; it has to come to you. Or, more precisely, you have to go to it—and it, towards you; so, you meet somewhere under Kant’s starry sky. Then the writing works out.
And, specifically for this novel—the idea was triggered by an image. When I was living among the small humankind, I frequently came across an oddball: a very strong man, a loner, living in a house on the outskirts of the village; he could not read or write, but he had a sharp mind and could tell stories. We children often gathered around him.
This image came to me four or five years ago in a strange way: I was thinking up a novel where the main character was an intellectual, a professor of literature, who had embarked upon drawing, but something kept on not working out. And then, one night, this oddball from childhood suddenly stood before me, came right out with his name—Theseus. Then I was struck by the heretical idea of conveying what I had conceived not through the image of an intellectual, but through that of an ignorant man—that is, not to take the beaten track, but push on through the stubble fields of the unknown. I don’t know how I decided to take this risk. And Pagane turned up; the events took on colour, began to mature, to lead me themselves… And so, years later, ‘Theseus in His Labyrinth’ appeared.
- Who is ‘Theseus in His Labyrinth. The Diary of a P’ targeting?
I try to write in such a way that the outer, epidermal layer of the narrative captivates the reader, so that he turns the pages with interest and curiosity. And below come the other layers—the second, third, fourth, fifth—and each reader reaches as far as his capability, perception, and sensibility allow. It’s no problem if they only get through the first layer, but it is a delight if they penetrate further, to the fourth, or fifth…
Jiří Menzel said (and I quote from memory): ‘My mother was a seamstress, and my father was an intellectual, and I always try to make a movie that I won’t have to be ashamed of in front of my father, but also one that my mother would understand.’
I couldn’t have put it better myself.
- How is a novel written?
If a formula exists for creating a novel, then there must also be a formula for creating a human being. Let me tell you a joke: when Einstein appeared before God, he asked to be given the formula for creating a human being. God searched in his pockets and, finally pulling out a crumpled piece of paper, gave it to him. Einstein looked at the formula and exclaimed: Oh, that’s all wrong!
So, there is no formula for writing a novel, and there is none for a human being. And, even if there were, it would be wrong.
Creative writing courses, for example, are valuable because they make good readers. But do not think that they can create writers.
- Is a Bulgarian writer free?
An unfree writer is an oxymoron. There is none in Bulgaria, or in the world. Can imagination not be free? To have limits, to have someone define, instruct and subjugate them…? Writers are free, even under the fiercest dictatorships. They may be forbidden to publish, their books may be burned; they may be imprisoned or banished abroad—it has happened in history, it still happens today. But writing is freedom. Those who self-censor, conform, limit themselves are simply a different kind of writer.
- What else would you want to write about?
So far, each one—my collection of 13 short stories, ‘The Girl Who Predicted the Past’, the three short stories about rage and love in ‘The Mermaid Hunter’, and the novel ‘Theseus in His Labyrinth’—is linked to the small humankind between Mogila and Mogilchitsa. This is actually a stylistic, thematic trilogy; I am not sure whether I shall continue with it. But there are always new ideas on the horizon; the point is to carry on sailing towards it.
- Where is the spiritual, nowadays?
The human body is made up of up to 72% water, but nevertheless, it is visibly physically solid. I think that this is human makeup: the soul takes up to 72%, although in our beinghood, we seem solid. The spiritual exists in everyone; it is a question of expression. And this depends on education, upbringing, reading books…
In our time, illiteracy, in the most ferocious sense of the word, is taking on threatening dimensions. That’s true, but there have been similar periods in history. Spirituality always survives, always prevails, and it cannot be otherwise; for if it were to disappear, only one biological species would remain on the planet, one that might well ride in a posh Mercedes, but would be nothing to do with the human.
- Are Bulgarian readers becoming more demanding?
There has always been a large group of people that does not read, and a smaller one that does. Unlike in the days of Socialism, readers today have access to innumerably more titles from all over the world, so they are logically becoming more demanding. And this is a pleasing, optimistic process.
- Are you considering your next novel?
I shall probably start collecting material for a novel; part of it will be about our troops in Aegean Thrace during the Second World War. Dad wanted to write it. This is my obligation to him.
- What do you dream about?
The point is not so much the specific dream as the journey to it, the process itself. Let me quote Márquez, who said: ‘It is not true that people stop pursuing their dreams because they grow old; they grow old because they stop pursuing their dreams.’
- How do you see the future of the Bulgarian novel?
It will exist as long as there are Bulgarians. For a novel, even if it is global, always starts from some native Macondo. We have the unique chance to be able to live anywhere in the European Union, to be citizens of the world, but, in writing, the energy that I have already mentioned comes from the small world into which you appeared. It has the specific colour and odour distinguishing, let’s say, a Balkan from a Parisian. Without this physiognomy, some sort of ‘international’ text would flow out, which is not appealing—at least not to me.
- Would you take part again in the NEF ‘13 Centuries of Bulgaria’ competition?
Let me first write something that I think could compete for this major prize. Then, yes, I’d love to.
- What do you think is the meaning of life?
The meaning is to aim for paradise, while never reaching it.
- When are you most happy?
In ‘Theseus in His Labyrinth’, the hero comes to the conclusion that happiness is like an orgasm: it lasts seconds, regardless of what aroused it. And that’s good, because we are not adapted to cope with a longer duration. This is what Theseus thinks.
I completely agree with him.
- And your favourite Bulgarian novelist?
Oh, there are several of them, but I shall answer like this: I once had the imprudence to list them, in alphabetical order at that, but I just forgot one name… That ‘name’ refuses to speak to me, to this day. And I insist on talking to novelists, even the dead ones.
Questions posed by Theodora Bankovska
6 June 2025
Translated by Nigrita Davies