BOOKS IN REVIEWEryn and his gesture <strong>of</strong> negation <strong>in</strong> a"homeless" world.In symbolic terms, this preoccupationwith identity is mirrored <strong>in</strong> two houses:one, owned by Valdez, represents everyth<strong>in</strong>gmoney can buy; and the other,owned by Lidia, serves as a hideout forthe Sand<strong>in</strong>istas. Both houses are described<strong>in</strong> terms that suggest, either ostentatiouslyor obliquely, an earthly paradise. In thef<strong>in</strong>al analysis, both prove futile. Valdez'smansion is opulent, but ma<strong>in</strong>ta<strong>in</strong>ed by abrute power that creates an atmosphere<strong>in</strong> which one hears "Chop<strong>in</strong> wander<strong>in</strong>gbewildered <strong>in</strong> the palm trees." Lidia'shome is a place <strong>of</strong> mutuality and passionatelove, but is watched over by a cynicalEduardo and is totally defenceless aga<strong>in</strong>stthe wrath <strong>of</strong> the National Guard. Inboth cases, the metaphor <strong>of</strong> paradise iscreated, tested and f<strong>in</strong>ally dissolved.Sand<strong>in</strong>ista <strong>of</strong>fers no comfort<strong>in</strong>g solutions.At best, it stresses the urgency <strong>of</strong>the quest. What is certa<strong>in</strong>, however, isthat for the author <strong>of</strong> the tendentiousnovel The M<strong>in</strong>d Gods, this work marksa new phase, a welcome change <strong>of</strong>direction.C. KANAGANAYAKAMCOLUMNS <strong>OF</strong> DARKGEORGE FALUDY, Selected Poems: 1933-1980,ed. & trans. Rob<strong>in</strong> Skelton. McClelland &Stewart, $12.95.IN I933, WHEN GEORGE FALUDY wastwenty-three years old, "The Ballad <strong>of</strong>George Faludy's Only Love" appeared onthe front page <strong>of</strong> the Sunday supplement<strong>of</strong> Budapest's lead<strong>in</strong>g liberal newspaper.It marked, we are told <strong>in</strong> a brief biographicalnote, his <strong>in</strong>itial literary success.One can see why the poem would haveappeal. It is very much a clever youngman's somewhat cynical view <strong>of</strong> love.There is the assumption <strong>of</strong> a worldwearypose as this young man, who isidentified by the <strong>in</strong>itials GF, liv<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>Vienna, "that desolate city," has his firstpassionate encounter with a girl calledNatasha "<strong>in</strong> the grey room <strong>of</strong> a pension."Natasha murmured at dawn, as they laytogether,"Well, now, you are not a virg<strong>in</strong> either!"Very shortly GF ran out <strong>of</strong> money;even on red-letter days his shirt collars weredirty,but she, a student <strong>of</strong> medic<strong>in</strong>e,shrugged <strong>of</strong>f all those who asked questionsabout him,washed his shirts, and brushed his coat,and listened to everyth<strong>in</strong>g he went onabout.In bed they sometimes discussed Chekhov,her each small breast like an orange cut <strong>in</strong>half.Eventually they come to a part<strong>in</strong>g <strong>of</strong> theways. GF, show<strong>in</strong>g not the slightest emotion,sees her <strong>of</strong>f at the railway station."On the way home he bought chestnutsand forgot her."Two other women, Metta and Fritzie,serve his needs for awhile, then areabandoned and quickly forgotten. Thefourth woman he meets, Eva Scherff, ensnareshim, but she is "cold, capricious,and wholly mean." She tortures andteases him, and withholds "her dearbody, tight-sheathed <strong>in</strong> its silken dress, /which every other idiot could possess."But it is this woman, a typical belle damesans merci, whom he can never forget,"never, never, never."All k<strong>in</strong>ds <strong>of</strong> echoes <strong>in</strong> this poem rem<strong>in</strong>dus <strong>of</strong> the f<strong>in</strong> de siècle poets <strong>of</strong> England,France, and Austria. One can imag<strong>in</strong>eBeardsley illustrat<strong>in</strong>g it, though Beardsley'sl<strong>in</strong>e was perhaps a bit too elegant.Faludy's poems <strong>of</strong> the years 1933 to 1935all have the aura <strong>of</strong> decadence aboutthem. Even the titles <strong>of</strong> many <strong>of</strong> thesepoems, "To Celia, My Faithless Love"and "Danse Macabre," for example, rem<strong>in</strong>dus <strong>of</strong> the melodies we first heard<strong>in</strong> the 1890's, although now somewhat272
BOOKS IN REVIEWcoarser, more astr<strong>in</strong>gent than thosesounded by earlier poets who sang totheir Celias:I came upon her on a day <strong>of</strong> summerwhen the sweat<strong>in</strong>g cheeks <strong>of</strong> the golden sunhung like a greasy bum above the water.The blue sky held no clouds at all, not one.I had not played the viol<strong>in</strong> betweena woman's thighs so long that when wetouchedhot honey filled our laps and rapture rushedupon us; as the night began to thickenI broke branches from a lilac bushand little trembl<strong>in</strong>gs blessed our naked sk<strong>in</strong>.So the attitudes <strong>of</strong> the f<strong>in</strong> de siècleare now expressed <strong>in</strong> the modern poeticidiom that developed <strong>in</strong> the 1920's and1930's. But with<strong>in</strong> this context the characteristicvoice <strong>of</strong> George Faludy clearlyemerges. I use the English version <strong>of</strong> hisfirst name. What the voice <strong>of</strong> GyörgyFaludy sounds like I am unfortunatelyunable to say. Faludy is a poet who makesme wish that I knew Hungarian, buteven <strong>in</strong> translation the personal, uniquesignature <strong>of</strong> the artist is manifest. There'sno mistak<strong>in</strong>g it. I made the test <strong>of</strong> compar<strong>in</strong>gthe work <strong>of</strong> the various translatorswho have contributed to this volume.For though Rob<strong>in</strong> Skelton is responsible,"<strong>in</strong> collaboration with theauthor," for the majority <strong>of</strong> the translations<strong>in</strong> the Selected Poems, there arealso translations by no fewer than tenothers, and <strong>in</strong> all the translations it isclearly the same poet whose voice wehear. It is a strong voice, tough and colloquial.The voice is most characteristicwhen it speaks <strong>in</strong> long poems where thel<strong>in</strong>es are flexible and s<strong>in</strong>ewy, the imagesprecisely observed, and experience rendereddirectly. In the best and mostmemorable Faludy poems everyth<strong>in</strong>g alwayshappens NOW, before our eyes, evenwhen events long past are recalled andbrooded upon, as <strong>in</strong> the marvellous "ToMy Father" (1971), or <strong>in</strong> "Vienna,1930" where he recalls, <strong>in</strong> 1956, the citywhere he had lived as a student and desperatelywanted to become a publishedpoet. In one <strong>of</strong> his most sear<strong>in</strong>g poems,"The Execution <strong>of</strong> Imre Nagy" (1958),he renders powerfully, only two yearsafter the event, the last moment <strong>of</strong> thedoomed leader <strong>of</strong> the Hungarian upris<strong>in</strong>g<strong>in</strong> 1956:The end. He guessed it would be hardbut by now it made no difference— the door opened : curs<strong>in</strong>g,the goons jumped on him with iron bars,crushed his shouldersand broke his armsand then placed a leather strapunder his ch<strong>in</strong> and tied it around his headso that stand<strong>in</strong>g under the gallowshe wouldn't be able to say Magyarorszag,and they kicked him along the corridorand he stumbled, half bl<strong>in</strong>dwithout his p<strong>in</strong>ce-nez, then pity<strong>in</strong>glyhe looked around the courtyardbut couldn't make out the hangman'sfrightened face, nor Kâdârwho stood there cower<strong>in</strong>g, drunk,flanked by two Russian <strong>of</strong>ficers.By the time Faludy writes <strong>of</strong> ImreNagy's death, he had himself experiencedsome <strong>of</strong> the special hells that thewretched ideologues <strong>of</strong> our century havebeen so prolific <strong>in</strong> creat<strong>in</strong>g. It is one <strong>of</strong>Faludy's great achievements that he hasborne witness to the degradations <strong>of</strong> ourtime and has ma<strong>in</strong>ta<strong>in</strong>ed his own moral<strong>in</strong>tegrity. His poetry is a k<strong>in</strong>d <strong>of</strong> spiritualautobiography, but it transcends themerely personal. Faludy's fate is sharedby millions <strong>of</strong> others and by speak<strong>in</strong>g <strong>of</strong>what he has witnessed and <strong>of</strong> what hehas suffered, he gives them a voice also.When Faludy was writ<strong>in</strong>g his earlypoems and creat<strong>in</strong>g the youthful, somewhatcynical persona <strong>of</strong> young GF, Europewas already burn<strong>in</strong>g. Hitler, Mussol<strong>in</strong>i,and Stal<strong>in</strong> were strutt<strong>in</strong>g on thestage and clerico-fascist secondary actorslike Dolfuss <strong>in</strong> Austria, Horthy <strong>in</strong> Hungary,and Franco <strong>in</strong> Spa<strong>in</strong> were alreadyplay<strong>in</strong>g support<strong>in</strong>g roles <strong>in</strong> the unfold<strong>in</strong>gtragedy. How all-consum<strong>in</strong>g the firewould become was still, <strong>in</strong> the early27З
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