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SYNOPSIS

Set against an Eastern European backdrop, A Magus in Bucharest follows a young woman’s superb descent into obsession. ​After meeting an enigmatic older man, she becomes convinced their bond is fated. What begins as a platonic affair turns into a psychoanalytic maze, as she interprets his cryptic missives through literature, myths, and the occult—spiraling ever deeper into the theater of her own mind.

But when her estranged Aunt Dolly arrives—a ruined cabaret dancer—the family’s past erupts into the present. Between her erotic obsession and the secrets of her dead grandmother, Helen’s delirium becomes inseparable from the ghosts of the women who shaped her.

At once hilarious and devastating, A Magus in Bucharest is a novel about seduction, madness, grief, generational trauma, and the redeeming power of introspection—the self’s final revolt.

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CH #4 / BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY

A concert of trash bins rattled through the window, trailed by a quartet of coughs, shouts, grunts, and phlegms. It was the first day of a miraculous new world. My

joy from the previous night had settled now into a kind of humming vibration. 

CH #5 / LET'S DANCE

Three days after the nightclub, when I deliberately hadn’t texted him, he’d acquired my number by secretive means. Needless to say, to answer his text, after screaming ecstatically into my pillow, I spent three hours studying Greek mythology and . . .

CH #6 / BEYOND THE INVISIBLE

CH #7 / ECSTASY

The week leading up to the rave passed in ages of desperate impatience. I spun my room into a fashion typhoon. I held more conversations with the mirror than with people. I also started writing several messages to him. Dear O., I am busy with a 

CH #8 / VERY SUPERSTITIOUS

Lumpy, slate-blue clouds drifting lazily across bright copper. A sort of blurred golden effect with a silver line sparkling on the horizon. Beneath it, in layers of darkening plum, communist blocks blinked awake with orange squares.  

CH #9 / SHOW MUST GO ON

“But my darling girl, can’t you see how preposterous you sound?! You simply

can’t be with a married man!!!” 

The following dialogue took place an hour later. 

CH #10 / BABY DID A BAD BAD THING

It was eight o’clock in the evening and I was sitting in Mario’s car. Mario’s car reflects a kind of testament to tractor masculinity and I despised it accordingly. Not that it wasn’t a nice car. But a BMW in the wrong hands can be a terrible thing. 

CH #11 / PERSONAL JESUS

The next day was a different world. I had gone to sleep in one life, and woken in another. My room possessed a foreign air—identical in shape to last night’s room, but it felt changed at a quantum level. The sense that, overnight, by some obscure 

CH #12 / THE VISITOR

I opened the door immediately. The bear-like figure now tilted its head back, lifted its chin, and removed the yellow hood in a ridiculous, self-important gesture. Then it squealed, hysterically:“My little, fluffy, porcelain doll!” 

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