When renowned film director Péter Gárdos wrote the story, he intended it as a film script, but eventually he made it into a novel. “Fever at Dawn,” the love story of two Holocaust survivors―the author’s parents―has ever since sold in more than 20 territories.
László Krasznahorkai is not a fashionable writer. He is marching directly against what the age is about: that literature should become part of the entertainment industry. He is failing to adapt smoothly to what is going on. This art is powerfully pitched against the intention to skim through life laughing or just sticking it out as best you can without taking any particular risk.
Serious face, he rarely smiles. Supposedly too little, but rarity of smiling as compared with what? He picks up from the table a bilious-green goblet and crushes it. The blood flows onto the tablecloth. He squeezes it with an even force until the glass smashes. As in a stagey film, though in those they would use paint, whereas this is real blood, though one would have to admit this too is a fairly stagey scene.
The ethics, and indeed very nature, of blogging was of some interest to me. What kind of communication was it? Personal? Public? Semi-public? And if so, what were the most useful analogies or precedents that could determine its manners, its poetic? I began to think of the News section of my website as something like a private newspaper column with limited circulation.