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.
It may well be that (some) Hungarian critics regard Budapest Noir the first truly “noir” Hungarian thriller, but I wouldn’t go quite that
far. It is not a James Ellroy, more something in the older mould:
Maigret, say, or Perry Mason, at most a Philip Marlowe, say, but none
the worse for that.
"I think everything around us is made up of fragments of narrative, all our experience. At best, we hang these fragments on a thread of cause and effect, or subsume them in some kind of universal whole and try and turn them into the story of a secret that’s revealed to us." – Enikő Fülöp talks to the winner of the Margó Prize about his first collection of prose, The Virgin Mary’s Fiancé.
"At times ruining is all it does. Ruin and ruin, Commonism is a ruin. The most interesting thing in Commonism, and this is truly interesting, is that everything is destroyed, and what is built up in place of the destruction, that work is in itself destruction."
In 1996 I visited Hungary for the first time in 18 years. I came from New York with my laptop and a thoroughly Americanized mind. I found the country completely different from the grey death camp I left almost two decades ago. It was now a bursting, yet somehow utterly depressed and depressing Balkan bazaar, a kind of Mad Max land in King Ubu’s empire, where most people I met were in a bad mood.