196 Books: Hungary

 Embers by Sandor Marai

Hungary is here:

Summary is here:

Originally published in 1942 and now rediscovered to international acclaim, this taut and exquisitely structured novel by the Hungarian master Sandor Marai conjures the melancholy glamour of a decaying empire and the disillusioned wisdom of its last heirs.

In a secluded woodland castle an old General prepares to receive a rare visitor, a man who was once his closest friend but who he has not seen in forty-one years. Over the ensuing hours host and guest will fight a duel of words and silences, accusations and evasions. They will exhume the memory of their friendship and that of the General’s beautiful, long-dead wife. And they will return to the time the three of them last sat together following a hunt in the nearby forest--a hunt in which no game was taken but during which something was lost forever. Embers is a classic of modern European literature, a work whose poignant evocation of the past also seems like a prophetic glimpse into the moral abyss of the present.

Firstly, this book is not long. I don't know why it took me forever to read it. Second: it seems weird that, in the middle of WWII (I almost wrote the Civil War?!), this guy was just going about his life writing and publishing a book. ::shrug::

I used to really love the classics: Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters...but I'm not so sure anymore. Okay I know they're not in the same time period, but this was written similarly. It seemed like things were drawn out unnecessarily, the talking went in circles around the point. The story between the two men was interesting, the retelling of it was less so. And off we go...

Straight from the general's childhood, we get a sense that he's a bit melodramatic: "Of course, nobody uttered a word about the cause of the child's illness, but everybody knew: the boy needed love, and when all the strangers had bent over him and the unbearable smell had surrounded him on all sides, he had chosen death." Uhhh...ok theater kid. This is like the biggest temper tantrum a child has ever thrown. The problem? Kid had to go visit his grandma that he'd never met. Poor you. 

It wasn't all bad, though. This was my favorite quote: "'Is he your friend?' asked his father. 'Yes.' 'Then he is my friend too,' said his father seriously." 

The meeting of the two boys and their childhood friendship is recounted, interspersed with more present thoughts: "One day we lose the person we love. Anyone who is unable to sustain that loss fails as a human being and does not deserve our sympathy." Umm...what? Okay, I will admit that I don't really know what he means by "sustaining the loss." Is it just bucking up and being fine? Is the inability suicide? Depression? I'm not sure but damn that seems weird. Later on we get, "Whoever survives someone is a traitor." I'm really not sure what people are supposed to do here, but I think therapy needs to be involved. 

Although it fits with this next one... "But slowly the suspicion took hold of Henrik [the general] that music was not such a harmless pleasure after all. Naturally the academy did not tolerate real music, with its power to arouse and erupt into naked emotion." GASP! NOT EMOTION!

Oh my word. Rereading these quotes is making me so angry. I'm trying to find a direct quote but apparently I didn't highlight it...the dad originally makes the comment that Konrad (the friend) is "different." And later on the general says the same sort of thing. Since the book is set in the 1930s (and the 40 years prior), I thought maybe that meant Konrad was gay. As Henrik talks about this big betrayal, I thought maybe Konrad hit on him or something, which seems like it would be really looked down on at that time period. Nope. Turns out Konrad just liked music? And maybe had emotions? And that made him "different"?

SPOILER

Turns out the betrayal was that Henrik's wife and Konrad had an affair. Terrible, yes. But honestly Henrik seems unbearable. Still not okay. Just sayin. 

But the hits just keep on coming: "A feeling known only to men. A feeling called friendship." Sorry, ladies! I'm not sure how our relationships are categorized, but it's not friendship! FFS. 

"We were friends, and the word carries a meaning only men can understand. It is time you learned its full implication. We weren't comrades or companions or fellow-sufferers. Nothing in life can replace what we had. No all-consuming love could offer the pleasures that friendship brings to those it touches." Alright, now I think Henrik might be in the closet. 

And then we get this: "All of a sudden the objects seemed to take on meaning, as if to prove that everything in the world acquires significance only in relation to human activity and human destiny." Well, I guess that matches the colonialist (I don't even know if that fits here) attitude of that time period. 

Cameo! Konrad had run away to the tropics, and he talks about working with the coolies. Of course it turns sour, but I love how these books can connect sometimes. 

And here is our last dig at the female folk: "And there is something else that is rare in women: she understood the responsibility to which she was committed by her own inner sense of self." Just picture me rubbing my temples. So, if most women don't have an inner sense of self, what exactly do they have? Are we destined to just be empty husks? Perhaps that's why the men must seek such intimate friendship. 

So, Henrik basically delivers a monologue all night. He says he wants answers from Konrad but then decides he doesn't. And then they part ways again, with apparently shared permission to go die. Fin.