Hungarian obituary? – A Review of Sandor Marai’s "Metamorphoses of a Marriage"

 

[Bourgeois couple*]

It is not often we read a book that triggers reflections and expands our understanding of very basic but not simple matters. Such books cannot nor should be read quickly as the content is not easily digestible however worthy it may be. In fact, I took me a year to finish Metamorphoses of a Marriage (I read an excellent translation into  French by Georges Kassai and Zeno Bianu but it also has been translated into English). The pleasure in savoring this book was that it reminded me of so many different books, it is a unique recital in itself and its essence is universal both in terms of time and geography. It ultimately expands the understanding of one’s own attitudes and actions.

The story takes place in Hungary from pre-World War I to post World War II and centers around the two marriages of a grand bourgeois, the son of a very rich industrialist, to first a bourgeois and then a peasant woman, with a mysterious writer in the shadows. In terms of a structure, the leading characters tell their story individually, thus creating a three-dimensional picture of the entire saga. As the story takes place during a long and dynamic period in Hungarian history, outside events influence the drama and provide an illuminating picture of the changes in Hungary during the 20^th century.  The writer also introduces a discussion of the role of literature and writers in the modern world. Therefore, as its basic level, it is a story of two failed marriages in Hungary.

When reading it, I kept on being reminded of the works of many different writers but with important differences. It reflected the flow of historical events over people’s lives as in Tolstoy’s War and Peace but Marai almost minimizes the importance of those events. The book had a similar structure to Oscar Lewis’ Children of Sanchez but none of the characters were ultimately villainized. A reader of classic Soviet realism would immediately identify the angry proletariat and evil capitalist but the characters explicitly reject those stereotypes in words and actions. It shares some of the Emile Zola’s determinism (Germinal) but the characters are not slaves to their instincts. The book shows the internal psychological drama of the characters, as Henry James did in Portrait of a Lady, but ultimately that drama is not the prime focus of this book nor are the class morays portrayed in a manner similar to Jane Austin’s Pride and Prejudice. Thus, Metamorphoses of Marriage encompasses a wide variety of perspectives in creating its panoramic view.

It also succeeds in expanding its relevance beyond a historical Hungarian romance. First of all, despite all the words spoken by and about them, the characters remain somehow distant and unremarkable. We know that they live in Budapest but you could meet similar characters in Paris, London or New York. They do not seem quintessentially Hungarian. Furthermore, their actions and attitudes are not deterministically defined by their class. Each character adopts an attitude towards the values of their childhood, bordering from open rebellion to full blind acceptance, and develops as these attitudes encounter changing realities. In other words, the characters choose their destiny at all times while remaining consistent to their class values. Finally, in my view, the concept of love itself goes through so many permutations that it eventually loses most of its relevance to the story. Thus, the book treats the issue of love and marriage in all of its complexity regardless of nation and time.

For that reason, Metamorphoses of Marriage is so thought provoking, creating questions about the most fundamental aspects of any relationship. Any person that has married someone from another social or national group has encountered puzzling cultural gaps in behavioral expectations and attitudes. Likewise, these mixed marriages often involve largely successful adopting of the new social rules in order to fit in and get along. At the same time, certain basic values acquired in childhood color our perspective on this new identity, both positively and negatively. “Foreigners” try to take what is beneficial from the other and retain what is comfortable from their childhood. As these characters do, we become hybrid in our relations. However, no matter how assimilated we become in a new culture, we still “smell” as we did in the nursery, a child of our environment to one degree or another. This book made me aware of this hybridization and its impact on myself and others.

I will not say that Metamorphoses of a Marriage is an easy book to read. Nor will I say that all of its elements interested me. However, I can say that it creates a deeper perspective on love, marriage and human behavior, including how they change and don’t change as circumstances evolve. Deepening our understanding of those processes can only educate us and make us more accepting of others and ourselves. Thus, I recommend this book not only because of its fascinating story but also for its penetration of the evolving human soul.

* Captions make the Internet accessible to the blind.

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The death of 20th century culture

On my just completed visit to my parents, I had plenty of time to peruse their rather large collection of books.  They were born in the 1920’s and have always been interested in art and history. Their choice of books reflects that background.  There are biographies and autobiographies of painters, actors, generals, statesmen and business people. Books in French were intermixed with the classic novels of 20^th American writers.  My father’s World War II experience is reflected in the large mass of Battle of the Bulge books. At a glance of the eye, I could see all the major phenomena of the 20^th century.

Sharing many of their interests if not all of their experience, I am interested in and had read many of those books. Thus, the titles and subjects on the shelves were familiar and far from alien.  I appreciate more than ever the rich background of knowledge my parents had conferred to me through their conversation and, of course, books. At the same time, I also experienced a strong sense of sadness: very soon, this rich corpus of knowledge will become forgotten and irrelevant. Nobody will know or care about the Spanish Civil War, General Eisenhower, Stillwell and the American Experience in China or the stories of Joseph Joffo, to name just a few.  The next generation will find them as interesting as the chronicles of the cities of ancient Greece.  I can already see this process in my engineering students in Israel, aged between 21 and 28, whose knowledge of the 20^th century events that shaped their country, not to mention the whole world, is so limited.  In teaching them English, I often find myself teaching them history.  I choose not to think what their children will know about “the ancient history” of the 20^th century.

On further thought and with great sadness, I realize that this process of cultural loss, even death if you will, is as natural as its physical equivalent. The people and events that shaped our world gradually and inevitably become ever more distant in people’s memory.  How many names and events of the 14^th or 15^th century, some 600 years ago, can even the most knowledgeable person recall?  What do know about ancient Mesopotamia or Rhodesian cultures? Their traces in the soil of human development have almost disappeared completely.  In that sense, cultural death is also sad and inevitable.  Likewise, we should strive to delay this result as much as possible, but learn to accept its inevitability. To paraphrase the call used for royal accession, the 20^th century is over; long live the 21^st century.