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.
There are several authors today in Hungary who describe the erosion of the village way of life, which runs parallel to the destruction of the countryside. Some do it with the passionate tone of a prophet. Háy's voice in The Kid is that of quiet desperation.
While the purist may fault this translation for departing from the form of the original by failure to
rhyme and cropping a syllable, others will surely complain that a mere male is too reckless for
words in attempting, even at second-hand, an account of female sexuality.
In common with most British schoolchildren, I didn't receive much grounding in Hungarian literature. Even when, in my teenage years, I started exploring the literature of other (and in those days Hungary was particularly 'other') European cultures, Hungary was conspicuous by its absence.