Ervin Lázár is the creator of a genre we may safely call
Central European folk surrealism, which takes on the quality of a
hallucinatory exploration into that part of the soul where beauty, hope,
and yearning live in close proximity with the harsh realities of life.
As well as addressing the most frequently discussed questions of the present age (physical mobility, the radical expansion of information), Seiobo also brings up a question once heavily debated but now conspicuous for its relative absence: what does it mean to be "cultured"?
"But the worst of all was the silver cutlery, the fact that we ate with the silver cutlery every day, not only on Sunday or holidays. 'Why?' 'Because we haven't got anything else,' our father grinned. Our mother shook her head. The weight of the silver got imbedded in our hands. When we were invited somewhere, or at school, our hands could hardly switch to aluminum."
It was 1956. In those days, nobody stole. The murderers who had left prison did not murder, the robbers did not rob. The moral level of the entire nation remained on a higher plane, everyone rose above themselves. In this aspect, 1956 was not just a republican moment in the life of Hungary, but an invigourating moral celebration as well.