Johannes Urzidil (1896–1970)

Jádrem rozsáhlého díla Johannese Urzidila, jež zahrnuje lyriku, eseje a převážně drobné prózy, jsou povídky odehrávající se v jeho rodné Praze. Mají převážně autobiografický charakter. Lidé, jejichž osudy spisovatel vylíčil, opravdu žili, události, o nichž psal, se skutečně staly. To jemu vyprávěl otec o strašidelném domě U devíti čertu, to on si hrával s malou Adélou, hrdinkou jedné z povídek, házel s předměstskými kluky míčem ve hře Na národy, chodíval do suterénu ke štukatérovi a obdivoval jeho díla, navštěvoval s otcem pražské chrámy i pražské pivnice, vymýšlel si kousky, jimiž se chtěl pomstít maceše, a o prázdninách putoval s otcem ze Stříbra až k Vlčí hoře, aby mnohem později našel nevlastního bratra. On byl ten chlapec, který na zasněžených Příkopech hledal v novoroční noci ztracenou peněženku, který dělal poslíčka veřejnému posluhovi Kubátovi světem klamu a tragiky a který chodil do septimy pražského německého gymnázia s repetentem Bäumelem a se svou první láskou Stellou. On byl také ten mladý muž, titulární svobodník rakouské armády, jenž uprchl z kavárny Areo a skrýval se před policii v měšťanském salóně. A zcela jistě existoval i Svatopluk Janda, jednonohý spolužák, který možná spisovateli Urzidilovi, píšícímu tehdy o velkých osobnostech české i německé kultury a hledajícímu harmonii ve vztazích mezi lidmi i národy, zachránil život, když ho po příchodu nacistů do Prahy ukryl na jednu noc ve svém sklepním bytě v Týnské uličce.… (més)

One does not escape from despair, hopelessness, suicide by demonstrating with great diligence and accuracy how nauseating, shallow, stale and fruitless all our actions are, but by trying to believe in life by virtue of the absurd

This extract, taken from an essay he wrote in 1965, is a good indication of the writing philosophy of Czech author Johannes Urzidil (1896-1970). In his introduction to this anthology of five short stories, translator David Burnett compares Urzidil's style with that of his friend Kafka, bringing out the contrast between Kafka's "quintessentially tortured soul" and Urzidil's writing, which "exudes a sense of certainty, the warmth of a well-ordered universe". Reading this comment, one might be forgiven for expecting this anthology to provide mere escapist fare. Nothing could be further from the truth. Each of the stories centres around outcasts - individuals whose decisions trigger disastrous consequences which they could never have predicted. And the personal woes of these characters are looked at squarely in the face and presented as a reflection of the wider human predicament - that messy thing called Life.

Take the narrator of "The Last Bell". She is a maid who has an unexpected windfall when her employers, a Jewish couple, flee the Nazi occupation, leaving her mistress of their apartment and all their worldly goods. Unsurprisingly, her joys are short-lived and her tragedy becomes symbolic of all the victims of Nazi barbarity. (Urzidil himself fled to England after the German occupation in 1939, eventually settling in the United States). In "The Duchess of Albanera", the protagonist is an introvert who, uncharacteristically acting upon an unexplained impulse, steals a portrait from a gallery, blissfully unaware (until too late) that this act of folly has torn the gallery guard's family asunder. What starts as a surreal romp ends with a philosophical meditation about a world peopled by the "guilty-innocent and the innocent-guilty".

So what is it that makes Urzidil's writing so life-affirming? For starters, there's the humour which always bubbles right beneath the surface. It is a humour which can also be dark and bleak, but is rarely cynical and never cruel. It is difficult to dislike Urzidil's mumbling, fumbling, bumbling protagonists - they might be figures of fun but their portrayal is always sympathetic. There's also a humanity to his characters - even the most heartless of them (for instance the Nazi officials of "The Last Bell") are never mere caricatures.

Two of the stories featured in this anthology - "Borderland" and "Where the Valley Ends" - and part of a third - "Siegelmann's Journeys" - are set in the forests of Bohemia at an unspecified period prior to the two World Wars. It is a timeless, fairytale backdrop which owes much to German/Austrian Romanticism. Indeed, Urzidil himself makes explicit reference to the works of [a:Adalbert Stifter|13018|Adalbert Stifter|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1360683479p2/13018.jpg] and I was reminded of the mysterious, magical atmosphere of [b:The Jews' Beech|6106708|The Jews' Beech|Annette von Droste-Hülshoff|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1328707364s/6106708.jpg|1084231]. "Where the Valley Ends" is a cautionary tale about the theft of a cheesecake which brings about discord between the two small communities on either bank of the river. Typically, what appears a rather banal premise becomes an excuse for conceptual ruminations about justice and peace: Nothing makes a just man more sad than complete triumph, since he knows how convoluted justice and injustice are at bottom, and that even the most righteous person has only half a case before God... In "Borderland" - a story praised by [a:Hermann Hesse|1113469|Hermann Hesse|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1499981916p2/1113469.jpg] on its publication - Urzidil skirts the supernatural with a portrayal of a "magnetic" girl who seems to be able to commune with Nature, until the awakening of her sexuality. It is a universal, mythical theme - redolent of Adam and Eve's expulsion from the Garden of Eden, or Enkidu's loss of innocence in the Epic of Gilgamesh. This story will haunt me for a long time.

A final thought - English is often hailed as a modern-day lingua franca, a language which acts as a bridge across the globe. Yet, there are deserving authors who seem to fall through the cracks. It is sobering to discover that Urzidil's stories have been translated from German into Czech, Spanish, French and Italian but this is the first-ever collection of his work to be published in English. So kudos to translator David Burnett and Pushkin Press for bringing these little gems to a wider public, and in such an attractive edition to boot.

4.5*… (més)

One does not escape from despair, hopelessness, suicide by demonstrating with great diligence and accuracy how nauseating, shallow, stale and fruitless all our actions are, but by trying to believe in life by virtue of the absurd

This extract, taken from an essay he wrote in 1965, is a good indication of the writing philosophy of Czech author Johannes Urzidil (1896-1970). In his introduction to this anthology of five short stories, translator David Burnett compares Urzidil's style with that of his friend Kafka, bringing out the contrast between Kafka's "quintessentially tortured soul" and Urzidil's writing, which "exudes a sense of certainty, the warmth of a well-ordered universe". Reading this comment, one might be forgiven for expecting this anthology to provide mere escapist fare. Nothing could be further from the truth. Each of the stories centres around outcasts - individuals whose decisions trigger disastrous consequences which they could never have predicted. And the personal woes of these characters are looked at squarely in the face and presented as a reflection of the wider human predicament - that messy thing called Life.

Take the narrator of "The Last Bell". She is a maid who has an unexpected windfall when her employers, a Jewish couple, flee the Nazi occupation, leaving her mistress of their apartment and all their worldly goods. Unsurprisingly, her joys are short-lived and her tragedy becomes symbolic of all the victims of Nazi barbarity. (Urzidil himself fled to England after the German occupation in 1939, eventually settling in the United States). In "The Duchess of Albanera", the protagonist is an introvert who, uncharacteristically acting upon an unexplained impulse, steals a portrait from a gallery, blissfully unaware (until too late) that this act of folly has torn the gallery guard's family asunder. What starts as a surreal romp ends with a philosophical meditation about a world peopled by the "guilty-innocent and the innocent-guilty".

So what is it that makes Urzidil's writing so life-affirming? For starters, there's the humour which always bubbles right beneath the surface. It is a humour which can also be dark and bleak, but is rarely cynical and never cruel. It is difficult to dislike Urzidil's mumbling, fumbling, bumbling protagonists - they might be figures of fun but their portrayal is always sympathetic. There's also a humanity to his characters - even the most heartless of them (for instance the Nazi officials of "The Last Bell") are never mere caricatures.

Two of the stories featured in this anthology - "Borderland" and "Where the Valley Ends" - and part of a third - "Siegelmann's Journeys" - are set in the forests of Bohemia at an unspecified period prior to the two World Wars. It is a timeless, fairytale backdrop which owes much to German/Austrian Romanticism. Indeed, Urzidil himself makes explicit reference to the works of [a:Adalbert Stifter|13018|Adalbert Stifter|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1360683479p2/13018.jpg] and I was reminded of the mysterious, magical atmosphere of [b:The Jews' Beech|6106708|The Jews' Beech|Annette von Droste-Hülshoff|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1328707364s/6106708.jpg|1084231]. "Where the Valley Ends" is a cautionary tale about the theft of a cheesecake which brings about discord between the two small communities on either bank of the river. Typically, what appears a rather banal premise becomes an excuse for conceptual ruminations about justice and peace: Nothing makes a just man more sad than complete triumph, since he knows how convoluted justice and injustice are at bottom, and that even the most righteous person has only half a case before God... In "Borderland" - a story praised by [a:Hermann Hesse|1113469|Hermann Hesse|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1499981916p2/1113469.jpg] on its publication - Urzidil skirts the supernatural with a portrayal of a "magnetic" girl who seems to be able to commune with Nature, until the awakening of her sexuality. It is a universal, mythical theme - redolent of Adam and Eve's expulsion from the Garden of Eden, or Enkidu's loss of innocence in the Epic of Gilgamesh. This story will haunt me for a long time.

A final thought - English is often hailed as a modern-day lingua franca, a language which acts as a bridge across the globe. Yet, there are deserving authors who seem to fall through the cracks. It is sobering to discover that Urzidil's stories have been translated from German into Czech, Spanish, French and Italian but this is the first-ever collection of his work to be published in English. So kudos to translator David Burnett and Pushkin Press for bringing these little gems to a wider public, and in such an attractive edition to boot.

4.5*… (més)

Once upon a time I read a book about the Czech Republic where someone (the author? the editor?) translated some of the Czech words but none of the German ones, which annoyed me because I took Russian in university, not German, and could often suss out the Slavic-based Czech on my own, whereas the German remained incomprehensible to me. Similarly (sort-of, maybe -- okay it's a bit of stretch), I keep putting the 'z' in Urzidil in odd places where I think it should be because I guess even the more Slavic parts of Czech culture ended up being just as incomprehensible to me as the German words in another book that is in no way related to this one, The Last Bell, that I'm supposed to be reviewing.

So the whole thing feels like a dream. I read the stories in bed, before sleeping, so maybe that's why. Maybe it's because there's a story about a talking painting and another about a girl who can touch nature. There's also a story about villagers on either side of a pond fighting about cheesecakes and venison. There are bank clerks and forest wardens and countries (Czechoslovakia) that no longer exist and none of it seems real because it isn't real anymore, after Nazis and Soviets and globalization destroyed it all. What was that Zweig book I read awhile ago: Messages from a Lost World? They gave the title to the wrong book, s'all I'm saying.

Maybe I should go to Prague, other parts of Bohemia. Maybe then this will all seem real. Well, not the talking stolen portrait part I hope.

The Last Bell by Johannes Urzidil went on sale April 25, 2017.

I received a copy free from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.… (més)