There are only instants, got it? Instants, instants counted by telephone companies. You can’t let a single instant pass without saying yes. If you start thinking the whole thing’s damned. Nothing matters but that it should cost money. If you cost money, you exist.
Péter Hajnóczy's recently discovered book follows the stories of ordinary people who got caught up in the net of the corrupt mental institutions of socialist Hungary where there was no one to protect the patients and from where there was no escape.
Nowadays things have got to a point where authors who cannot perform something special are not even invited to events anymore. Should writers be performing artists as well, or is it enough if they write good books, poet-novelist Orsolya Karafiáth asks.
Although he is now mostly remembered as a novelist, it is as a poet and translator of poetry that Sándor Márai first made his name in the literary world. The first translation of Márai's poems into English, entitled "The Withering World", was published in a dual-language edition by Alma Books.
Through the interpretation of various texts, Péter György takes the reader on a scholarly guided tour of Hungarian national ideology from the time of the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy right up to the transformation in nationalist politics brought about by the 2010 elections.
Great swarms of Hungarians are leaving the country, the biggest wave since the 1956 revolution was repressed. "You should leave the place that’s not good for you. Those who are leaving are right to do so. And they will regret it, just like those who will stay", poet and ex-MP Endre Kukorelly reckons.
Is there anything more exasperating than understanding that we all participate in the same dance of death? Perpetrators and victims, givers and receivers of prizes, Jews and non-Jews, anti-Semites and philo-Semites, irrespective of culture and skin colour.