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.
The protagonist of Zsuzsa Rakovszky's third novel, Sándor (Alexander)
Vay, aka Countess Sarolta (Charlotte) Vay was born in 1859 in an
aristocratic family. Born a girl, she was brought up as a boy, and when she grew up,
writer-journalist Vay lived and behaved as gentry men did in Hungary at
the end of the 19th century.
"I am deadly insulted. I only look like people. This chap here who breathes in and out past my lips, he is no work of mine. I have no idea what I have to do with the whole composition. Where is my own special programme, my individual taste, my fantasy and my interest? This me? Any bellboy has the right to look like me. I have been settled. I am deeply ashamed. Me, me, me."
Perhaps in a language as enchantingly beautiful—fully admitting to an
extreme bias in this case—as Hungarian, it should come as no surprise
that poets are forever compiling lists of the ten most beautiful words.