First Edition issued on October 19th 1999. at St. Toma's day
The 40th legal edition in sale

ABOUT THE BOOK

     The Peacock’s Feather is a thrilling saga about the generation who used to sing “Let the Sunshine In” and believed that it was a matter of fact to demand the impossible.
     They wanted to take their lives into their own hands, to become mistresses of their own lives and owners of their own souls, whatever that meant. And they have never accepted to repeat the destiny of their mothers.
     In the seventies they said: “Freedom!” In the eighties they worked hard to prove they could do everything. They accepted double burden of their double lives, in order to keep their home, but conquer the world. In the nineties they faced their choices, but also their daughters, and defeated by the consciousness that one more generation betrayed their youth, they tried to remember what they were once like.
     The Peacock’s Feather is a deeply moving novel about all female searches, since the first, Adam’s wife Lilith, who stood  up against the male tyranny in the Garden of Eden up to Iva, who, at the beginning of the XXI st  century, realizes that only love can save us.
     The Peacock’s Feather is a book of proofs that female yearning is unchangeable, that female suffering is always the same, that, from the beginning of the world both goddesses and mortal women live the same feminine destiny.


PREVIOUS EDITIONS

Пауново перо
NARODNA KNJIGA
1999
GLOBOSINO ALEKSANDRIJA
2003
GLOBOSINO ALEKSANDRIJA
2003

FOREIGN EDITIONS

Greece
KEDROS (KEΔPOΣ)
2005
Bulgaria
UNISKORP
2006

AWARDS AND RECOGNITIONS

     Golden bestseller, recognition by Radio Television of Serbia and daily news paper „Novosti“, for one of the ten best-selling books in 1999.

     National winner of the Foundation BALKANIKA , for one of the five best books  published in 1999. on Balkan.

     Special golden best seller for the year of 2000., recognition by Radio Television of Serbia and daily news paper „Novosti“, for the best-selling book of home author in previous two years.

     Award of the National Library of Serbia, for the most often read book in the libraries of Serbia, for the year of 2000.

     The best selling book, at Intrnational book Fair in Herceg Novi, Montenegro, 2000.

REVIEWS –  ABSTRACTS

     In all the stories entered in the novel, the author tries to move through the inner world of hers heroines, to show how the contents of  everyday`s routine get a reflection of theirs inner world and how that world becoms a source of the rest and comfort or a source of new troubles and increased difficulties.

                                                                                  (Radivoje Mikic)

     With this book the author wrote her most successful novel so far. This is going to be not only her most read book ever, but also a book that will improve her position on the critical map of contemporary Serbian literature.

                                                                                  (Vasa Pavkovic)

     As, according to tradition, the beauty of peacock feathers comes from the toxins that enter the peacock itself whilst destroying snakes, so the author turns the sorrow and bitterness of hers heroines, with a wonderful formula of an alchemist, into a luxury of images and beauty of the words. Exactly as the poet Baudelaire knew to make gold from the mud, and as every artist does turn the poison of the world into a great deeds.

                                               (Zorica Radulovic, Pobjeda, Podgorica, Montenegro)

     When we talk about authors skill of fiction, we should say that she has a deadly dangerous and carnival imagination of a Balkan`s man ... It is amazing how the author equaly successfully converted herself into all of hers heroines -  the earthly one and the divine ...                                                          

(Katya Zografova, Sofia, Bulgaria)

QUOTE FROM THE BOOK

     "Where am I going?" Iva asked herself.
     The passengers of flight No.108 were called for the last time.
     She kissed her husband and her son alternately. Then she pressed their faces against hers. She wanted them to be filled with mutual love through that touch like through the system of joined vessels. With strong love which would protect each of them until they met again. Until she came back.
     "Where am I going to?" she asked herself while she was passing through the customs and passport control.
     "Oh, that's you! I've read  all your books!" the stewardess recognized her.
  From the girl's face slided a  cramp of professional kindness, revealing a smile for a moment.
     "Thank you very much! You've really made me happy!" Iva replied, facing once more the realization of her life dream: people read her books, they recognize her and address her with love. How eager had she been to become a writer.
     She was seven, when she formulated in a word  and uttered aloud her desire for the first time. She  surprised even herself. Until that very moment, she did not know or not even supposed to, that something like that exists in her.  That why, maybe,  she ever remembered that glorious moment of the first self – comprehension.
     They lived in Zagreb, the birthplace and the natural environment of Iva's  father. For  Iva's mother,  Zagreb was a trap, husband's family a threat, and mother-in-law, Anna Mary was a foe. Because Iva's father belonged entirely to his mother. He was the child of her body, and son of her soul. She knew to poison him  and to cure him. Her wishes were framework for him. She  wanted  a completely different woman  for him,  from the one he chose. And different kind of kid.
     - What you would like to be,  when you grow up, lovely lass? - Asked Iva a friend of Anna Mary, who carried the title of  Eminence  and a high rank in the hierarchy of the Catholic Church.
     - Writer! Novelist! - Replied the girl.
     - You!
     Disbelief and contempt distorted  Ana Mary's aristocratic face. As the last offspring of the old noble family that for centuries dried, Ana Maria believed in the law that is obtained by birth, in God Almighty and the Catholic Church, as the sole interpreter of His will. She respected only aristocrats. With these, with the nobles by blood, she counted also those gifted by success and talent.
     "Gifted have been selected! Endowed with the immense grace of our Lord "she said, and it was completely incomprehensible  to her that to devoted circle of those who have received God's kiss to forehead can belong" that brat of no impress at all, " as she described her  granddoughter.
     -  You writer! You? -  She was laughing and that laughter was hurt to Iva as a  hit in the face with a  dirty hand. Jet, she was not scared. She quietly watched at  Ana Maria.
     - Yes, I! I'll be a writer – she repeated. Proudly and safely, as if talking about the magical certainty.
     Then she slowly turned toward her mother, called by something inexpressible. She saw how the mother, always so uncertain and somewhat humble in this society, that is constantly rejected her, is slowly changing. How unties nervously weaved  fingers, relaxes shriveled hand, corrects herself, raises his head revealing a look. And her face! It was lit up with  pride and hope. "Iva will not trip before she walk and will not go my way. She will not fail to achieve that for which she was born. Because she recognized her goal and mission in time ", she thought. She was looking in a captivate way  to her child with an incredible look of pure love, that  Iva should take with her as a talisman for a lifetime.
     "We did it, Mom! We made it, and you certainly know that, although  you have already  gone!”, she was whispering with her forehead  attached to the plane window.
     Belgrade disappeared from her sight,  buried under the clouds that looked like snow-drift. It seemed to her like she was  slipping  through the polar field.
     "Where am I going?" she asked herself once again.
     "Where do I go? And why?" She was asking herself as of the moment she decided to go on this trip.
     And she was not about to go there, even from the very beginning, since she received a call from Thessaloníki to take participation on  the festival of women artists from the shores of two seas, the Mediterranean and Black sea. However, she accepted the invitation. Somewhere inside she knew that this gathering of women is not and never can be, the real cause of her trip. She felt that the journey  is just a  cause, as good as any other, for something bigger and more important. For what, she did not know. Nevertheless, she neatly packaged her books, bestsellers, the catalog in English and a lecture with a subject: Feminine  inheritance - myth and reality. She was submissively followed that  higher order. That inner compulsion. As always.
     She knew she was not wrong. And with joyous excitement, curious, and like to watch someone else's life, she observed her time, expecting what will happen.