PzU Literary Corner (Mint Edition)

I have just finished Thomas Bernhard’s memoir Gathering Evidence on the recommendation of the friend whose flat we are renting and whose library I am in the course of plundering. The blurb on the front, by the Times literary supplement, calls it a “remarkable literary contribution.” I can’t agree, I finished it this week and it read like the repetitive whining of a hysterical narcissist, through gritted teeth. Perhaps I am being unfair as translated texts never capture die essenz of a writer’s syntax, but if it reads like this in German than the really remarkable thing about this book is that it ever got published!

I had to make some painful decisions when I moved my stuff over to Poland as to what I would keep and what I would put in storage. I only brought four books with me: a Polish/English dictionary, a book on cognitive behavioural therapy, Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts and Rising ’44.

I enjoyed Rising ’44 far more reading it recently. First of all, I was able to understand the geographical locations mentioned in the book which is extremely useful for understanding the action that takes place. Secondly, being in the city itself added an extra poignancy. Where before I had to imagine the destruction of the city wrought by the SS in the suppression of the Warsaw Rising, now I could see it all before me: albeit in the rebuilding and expansion that took place after the war. It really is the authoritative English language work on the subject. In my view his shortened nomenclature is very frustrating (for example he uses names such as “Premier Mick” or The Premier for President Mikołajczyk in attempt to make the book more user friendly for readers unused to lengthy Polish names and sounds. But who really buys a thousand page book and then gets deterred by a surname?) But it is fascinating, depressing and enlightening all at once and a must read.

I always experience a literary drought from September to December as I stop buying books and wait for the Christmas floods to begin. I am particularly excited about reading more about the history of Warsaw, the city which I now call home, and Poland in the Second World War. So for that reason my Amazon wish list has ballooned to over 40 books, of which I expect to get about 15. I am particularly interested in The Warsaw Ghetto: A Guide to the Perished City  by Barbara Engelking-Boni. 


I have been writing a blog post on multiculturalism in Poland as I have experienced it and will probably put that up tomorrow. I am not posting as often as I would like as I have recently upped the number of classes I am teaching, requiring more prep time, as well as doing at least 30 to 60 minutes a day of physiotherapy to repair the stabbing assegai in my knee.I can only imagine the grief and suffering this is bringing you on a daily basis, my dear reader, and promise to make it up to you in due course. 
 

Finally I just want to observe a strange thing happening to me recently. With a lack of decent reading material like newspapers and books, I sometimes just sit quietly on buses, trams and the tube, thinking about life in general and experiences and events that have taken place in mine. I can’t eavesdrop like I normally would because trying to decipher colloquial Polish between two friends gossiping is very tiring but at the same time obnoxious conversations don’t really intrude on me either, which is a plus point. On the other hand I had to spend all the journey from Ratusz-Arsenał to Imielin today trying to get this loudmouth’s arse out of my face on my tube carriage today as he sat back onto the railing next to my seat. What do you do when a profound English “tut” and “tsk” just isn’t enough? Answers on a post card please because I don’t have one yet.

So in this solipsistic state I often find myself reminiscing on little moments in my life, funny stories or events. Instead of just thinking about the memory and then dismissing it I can hardly contain my laughter, reliving the moment as if was being played out right in front of me for the first time.  It’s a powerful but temporary emotion that I’ve never experienced or expected before. Maybe it’s just a small step in the introspection you read about in prisoners or people subjected to long periods of isolation, but it’s definitely weird. Then again it might be the normal emotional reaction if you’re stuck on the 503 for an hour and a half and still nowhere near your personal nemesis ul. Dolina Słuczewiezka.