It is the only time I have felt sad putting an "end" to something I had been writing for a long time. I had such a great time with Uncle George and his friends, their stories, their loves, their despair, their poetic nature, their improbable romances, their wonderful humanity, their jokes, and their tipsy late nights.
But even the readers of it until today (three generations have grown up with "Once upon a time there was a lonely man") feel the same sadness when they finish it. For years now, they have been telling me to write a book with the legendary Uncle George as the hero. Who knows, maybe at some sudden moment...
Many things were said when it first came out in 1980. It was a "sudden" novel in the then Greek literature. First of all, because it had as heroes free people (we call them bohemians), with a fantastic spirit and many sensitivities, conscious of despair and the loss of visions, which had already started to faintly appear, but also with a strong will for life, creation, love, friendship, and tenderness.
At first glance, they may seem cursed, but gradually the reader feels that they are actually blessed. A second reason that surprised back then was that its setting was in bars, at night, with beautiful drinkers, chaotic loves, "one for the standing" and "one for the road" of freedom.
And the third reason was its language. Simple, everyday, emotional, poetic, and at the same time a bit rough. However, as it turned out, its authenticity surpassed any obstacles and made it one of the most beloved books of the two decades.
[Excerpt from the text on the back cover of the edition]
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