Abstract
Ana Blandiana’s prose books have, right from the title, echoes, hints or suggestions of the fantastic. The epic is under the aegis of the oneiric imaginary, the atmosphere has a visionary tinge, the projections into the fabulous favouring immersions into the past through which the boundaries between the real and the fantastic prove to be fluctuating, evanescent and deceptive. The fantastic is not the fruit of the accumulation of events, scenes or details, it comes from the treatment of the setting, from the narration of a story that has the gift of blatantly contradicting the reader’s habits.