Once a year, the Goethe Institute awards the Goethe Medal to foreign personalities whose works have substantially contributed to international cultural dialogue. This year, Dezso Tandori, one of the most versatile and experimental figures of Hungarian literature will receive the medal for his contribution to German-Hungarian literary dialogue.
Tamás Jónás' poems lead us into a merciless world. There is no resting place: even in the midst of a family idyll, the individual is not allowed a moment of respite. He continually has to answer for some sin that he either has or has not committed, or call on others to answer for the sins they have committed against him.
A middle-aged husband unable to provide for his wife and mother-in-law after the local meat-packing plant closed down decides to commit suicide. An infotainment show host arrives to sign a contract whereby he will do it live on television.
Leg of the Frozen Dog, published in 2006, is a collection of short stories written during the last ten years by Lajos Parti Nagy, an outstanding member of the Hungarian middle generation of authors, who is widely considered to be the number one master of "artistic language distortion."
An old lady whose husband has just died of cancer leaves her hometown to join her daughter, a doctor living in the capital. How the initial relief at not having to live the rest of her life alone, forgotten, dutiless, but as a help to her only child soon turns into bewilderment, then apathy, and finally to death – this is the topic of Magda Szabó's 1963 novel, originally titled Pilátus (Pilate), now published in Italian under the title La ballata di Iza (Iza's Ballad, published by Einaudi).
Viktor Bodó claims to have used György Petri's translation of Molière's Don Juan for his new production staged in the Katona József Theatre, The Great Sganarelle and Co. Yet it seems as though Don Juan merely provided the original inspiration for Viktor Bodó to set about transplanting this mythic figure to a modern urban setting.
"None of the hysterics and blue funk whether my water’s gonna hold out, and with the groom whispering, even at the church door, you better say no, you bra buster bitch, if you value your life. None of that, love, no! They’re standing there like a pair of lovebirds, all blatant marzipan head to foot, and the three of them weighing in at a hundred pounds if one, cross my heart and hope to die."
In his study on 17th century Flemish painting, Zbigniew Herbert was surprised to find that while contemporary masters of a good reputation tried their luck abroad, the truly great, such as Vermeer, Hals or Rembrandt, never crossed the Alps. In fact, they never ventured as far as the nearest country.