In 2002 a Jewish man recalls the dying days of the Hungary’s Nazi occupation and how, as a fourteen-year-old, he and his family were to be sent to the death camps before coming under the protection of legendary Swiss Vice-Consul, Carl Lutz. – An excerpt from Iván Sándor’s haunting novel, newly translated into English.
Faludy’s description of his Arabic ideal is actually true of himself and most of his characters – to wit, they spend the greater part of their days making love, doing nothing or philosophising. – György Faludy has died at the age of 96.
They say that about 7% of the total population of Hungary worked for or collaborated with the feared secret police in Hungary. What happened to these people after the change of the regime? Most of those who are still alive and employable are doing well. They became politicians, curators, and heads of cultural institutions.
“Muslims are the Jews of our time,” Spiró stated, and a wake of controversy followed his analogy of the peoples and processes of two remote historical periods. The theme of exploitation and manipulation keeps popping up as we navigate through some rough timespace terrain.
Literary events thrive all throughout the annual week-long monstre musical venue, the Sziget Festival. In this multitude of talks, lectures and readings, our on-the-spot report takes you to this year’s second organized slam poetry session, a newly developing trend on the contemporary Hungarian scene.
"I know, Lord, that to think of you is cheek, / and still worse, to address you when I speak, / as if my voice were what you're yearning for. / There was a time, if you'd struck me with lightning, / I'd have accepted it, thought it the right thing. / Now I've made you my co-conspirator."
To sell ourselves to the Western media as political refugees would have been out of style. Therefore, we wore Russian military uniforms with our punk hairdos and talked about being highly trained KGB agents sent to the free world to destroy the morals of the Western youth.
It’s a fact: in summer, people go on holiday. Why? Because the sun is shining; it’s hot; work is scarce; or the family is together, and everybody is fed up with Budapest – where we all love living, if it weren’t for the concrete soaking in the heat, the streets stinking of dog shit and other decomposing biological waste.
One of our most versatile poets. An arrestingly colourful personality. If you ask me, he is the person I would hire to popularise poetry in secondary school classes. His career as a poet started late, but has remained unbroken ever since; his life's course has been structured and criss-crossed by profound human drama.
"There are poets who rewrite the same poem all their lives. Among those who were particularly close to Zsuzsa Beney, Emily Dickinson … was such a poet, and … Zsuzsa Beney herself is certainly like that." (Péter Pór) – Zsuzsa Beney, poet, essayist, physician and university lecturer, died on 12 July 2006.
The events within the castle and the pursuit of the MS are saturated in a tone of frivolity, where the chief topoi and motifs of European culture are turned inside out with an elegant and nonchalant sleight of a hand, a silk-gloved one. As an added bonus, the attentive reader gains a tremendous wealth of erudition in this totally pain-free process.