The hundred-year-old man who jumped out the window and made a reader laugh

I work on the third floor of a typical office building. It’s situated in a complex of office buildings, all of which hold letters, instead of names and have a small park between them. You are met on the reception right across from the entrance, Wing 1 is straight ahead, and Wing 2 is on your right. You go up to the third floor, while using a badge every three steps or so, and sit 3 seats away from the window. Right outside this third-floor window you can find a small rooftop garden, which connects the two wings. It is the roof of the canteen, which is placed right between the two wings. There are all sorts of green plants there, as well as a skylight of some sort. How many times have I wished to open the window and just jump out in this rooftop garden, and sit down for a cup of coffee. But the windows are locked, of course.

What I admired in the beginning of this book was a hundred-year-old man, who one day opened the window and jumped out, because director Alice simply wouldn’t allow him to get an occasional drink. And he went into the world, forget all those rules and Alices and norms.

The Hundred-Year-Old Man Who Jumped out the Window and Disappeared was a very refreshing read. I usually spend most of my time reading either what my friends would call depressing literature, or sinking in some magical realism, enjoying every minute and word. This was probably the first humor book I have ever read, and I must admit – it was quite enjoyable! So much that I even bought my next Jonas Jonasson book, just to make sure they don’t run out of copies. And, let’s face it, because I like hoarding books, too.

I’m not used to laughing out loud when I read a book, but this is what happened with this one occasionally. Sometimes people sitting around me would ask me why am I laughing and what have I read. I realized that it’s actually hard to explain it. Not for any other reason, but because while reading this book you get an image of the characters, which build up, evolve, become more and more lovable, and at some point you just smile at everything they do.

This book is absurd. It describes the impossibly possible things a man can do in a hundred years, it describes the impossible probability of you running into people such as Mao Tse-Tung, Churchill, Stalin, Truman and Kim Jong II. And all that if you just blow up your house for a start. It tells a story of surviving a gulag cold-bloodedly, but not being able to keep it together after the death of a house cat. And then there’s meeting all of those awesome people on your way to… wherever it is you’re running to.

This book has been a great means of turning out my mind when I needed it, or just enjoying a nice comedy when I was in the mood. Though comedy has never been a favorite genre of mine, I think I will always look at this book and smile at it, an I’ll always just say “Hey, buddy! I still know you killed those people, but I’ll keep your secret. I had the hell of a laugh.”

The best part of it? That while reading this book I met up with the one and only Inga, and exchanged some experience about our reading adventure in person. Our new year’s not-resolutions are still swimming somewhere there in the river Vilnia, right before it flows into Neris, and might be well on their way to the Baltic sea now. ❤

Next stop – Belgium!

The harsh world of mountains

For me “Broken April” by Ismail Kadare is filled with toughness, fatality and otherworldliness. It’s not only the grim world of the Albanian High Plateau, its peaks, its lakes and towers built of stone. Not only the presence of so many guns and loaded weapons, ready to shoot once you get off the road protected by the bessa (word of honor), but also in people’s destinies and lives.

It has been some time now since I’ve been so intrigued by the belief system and traditions of a nation. What this book gave me was the immense satisfaction of a treasure seeker, who has stumbled upon the magnificent and cruel world of a culture he has barely known – the Kanun of Albania. A set of laws ruling over people’s behaviour, decision-making and understanding of good and bad, right or wrong. The Kanun of the High Plateau in Albania is both frightening, cruel and even barbaric on the one hand, but on the other it keeps the poetic and even romantic harshness of generations past. In “Broken April” Ismail Kadare concentrates mainly on those parts of the Kanun, that deal will murder and hospitality. Here you will find the “eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth” motive translated as “blood for blood”, you will find the romantic world of those sentenced to death by a bullet within 24 hours or 30 days, and the world of the bessa – the word of honor that gives before taking.

In the High Plateau of Albania every murder is punished by murder. And so families kill each other’s members for generations on. Your grandfather killed mine, so my father will kill yours. Your father kills mine, so I will then kill him. You will kill me, but my son will surely kill you. All this within 24 hours and with special rules. When someone shoots a person, he must make sure to shout the right words BEFORE shooting the gun. This is never to happen on a road protected by the bessa, neither near a waterfall or a mill, as the person aimed to be killed might not hear the shout because of the noise. Once shot, the killer has to put the victim’s body in a particular way – laying on their back, with their gun next to their head. If the murderer can not do it, then he can ask the first passer-by to help him. And that is when his clock starts ticking. The murderer needs to go to the victim’s family and eat dinner with them. They need to attend the victim’s funeral, pay blood tax and then be killed by the victim’s family in 24 hours. Unless the whole village requests a 30 day bessa.

If however the victim survives the attack, then they are considered only half-dead. Which means you need to pay a huge fine, based on the place of the wound you’ve inflicted, and try again. If you don’t succeed the second time either, you pay a huge fine once more, 2 half-deaths are considered a full one, and this only means – tag. You’re it. There were two things that shocked me even more. One: when giving a girl to marry into another family, they put a bullet in the pocket of her wedding dress. It is this bullet that her husband must use, should she ever try to escape or cheats on her husband. Two: “One may pardon the man who spills the blood of one’s father or of one’s son, but never the blood of a guest.”

And yes, there is a way to escape all this. You can close yourself within a tower built of stone, kulla, especially for the reason to give sanctuary to those, who are the next in line to be killed. Family members would bring food and water, but once you go in, you never go out. Or otherwise you’re dead.

Of course there are cases when the Kanun can be understood differently or might be unclear. This is why you have people with special knowledge of its content, who travel around the High Plateau and help solve cases, when its difficult to decide how to react. Like the case when three brothers kidnapped a man’s wife, and kept her in their house for three days, each one taking advantage of her. Since the Kanun doesn’t have a chapter for such cases, the special judge suggests a solution – either the man, whose wife was forcefully kept by the three brothers, will sleep with each of their wives for three nights, or they will choose one among themselves, who shall be shot by the man, who suffered the injustice.

The second brother died.

“Broken April” by Ismail Kadare is the story of Gjorg, how close his name is to mine, how very much the same, but in Albanian. A 27-year-old man, who had to avenge his brother, although he didn’t really want to, and who got his 30 days. And the story of a just married couple on their honeymoon in the High Plateau. They meet for just 2 minutes, but this changes Gjorg’s 30 days, and the young couple’s whole marriage.

Chapter Twelve – Albania

When we started choosing the countries for this project, I really wanted Albania to be in the list. It’s not every day that you get to read something from Albania. I must face it – it would never have crossed my mind to read anything from there if it weren’t for this project. Not only because it’s hard to get a book like that, but also because it’s not often you think of Albania when you enter a bookstore.

When I was a kid quite a lot of Albanians came to my hometown to shop. I would see them around town, they would buy all sorts of things, from clothes to kitchen supplies, and then leave town in the evening. People would call them “shqipters” and somehow I ended up believing I should avoid them and be afraid. Not very hospitable, right? Then that also changed. At some point they just stopped coming over and were forgotten.

Some years later, I was already in university, a very good friend of mine said he’s going to work in Albania for some time. He’d been working for a very big brand specializing in audio and video technologies, and they wanted to open a store in Tirana, so he applied and was chosen to go there and take charge of things. It came as a shock. Up until that point my friends would go to Germany, France, Italy, but no one was ever thinking about moving to Albania. I wasn’t sure if he’s a genius or a fool. I remembered my childhood impressions and got a bit worried. Now I think he was actually a genius. I guess I’d go for it as well.

He told me a lot of stories about his stay there. That the shop needed to have its own electricity generator, because it was quite often that there’s not electricity for hours on. Quite often they’d have water running only early in the morning – between 6 and 8 am. He was quite surprised when at the opening of the store people came dressed in suits and dresses as if out of a fairytale – with veils and tiaras and such. He even told me about an art exhibition he was invited to – the artist had made an image of a deep-frozen chicken with two heads, as a reference to Albania’s national flag – a two-headed eagle. My friend’s colleague then said something in the lines of “Oh my, the things they sell in shops nowadays, how awful!” to which my friend started laughing and said “You do realise this is photoshopped, right? It’s not real, it refers to your national flag.” “Why would it be photoshopped? Who would do such a thing? And also – we have an eagle on our flag, not a chicken!”

When I started looking for an Albanian book I only had about 3 options, 2 of which were by the same author – Ismail Kadare. What I ended up choosing was Broken April, because I hope that with this book I will get a better first-hand description and idea of the local Albanian culture and traditions. Such as the Kanun – a code in the mountain regions of Albania that requires to avenge a murder with murder. When a character’s brother has been killed he has to shoot the murderer, only to be hunted down in his turn. Albania has always been this interesting place I never knew anything about. A small piece of the unknown, almost in the heart of Europe. I can hardly wait to dive in this world.

Dust from a grave, ashes from a fire, and a devil.

“Whitehorn’s Windmill” is somewhat of a handbook for basic witchcraft and love spells. With some spells on how to make somebody fall in love with us, how to break a marriage, how to make someone dry up like a toad, and how to do something without knowing what consequences there might be, but hoping that at least some small misfortune will follow. Kazys Boruta’s “Whitehorn’s Windmill” is a novel with a lot of great folklore beliefs and superstitions, some evil, some fight between the good and the bad, justice and misfortune, and… a sad ending.

I enjoyed reading this book, because I like reading about local beliefs and myths. I did, however, have a little problem – the translation. Most of the names in the book were translated to English (Whitehorn, Hearall, Blackpool, Manywish, etc), while others were left in their original Lithuanian version, either because they could not be translated, or because the translator thought they don’t say as much as the translatable ones. I understand the translator’s reason behind this, but I would have still preferred a consistency in this practice.

Spoiler alert – details about the end of the book below. I could not believe that not even one of the main heroes in this book survived. Dead. All of them. Kazys Boruta was a hipster, killing off all of his characters before it was cool. Girdvainis, after looking for his dapple-gray horses for so long and loosing his love, Jurga – killed by the devil. Jurga – drowned in the lake. Whitehorn – turned to stone by his sadness. Jurgutis – killed by the lightning that struck the windmill. Uršulė – did not survive the witch test. Even the dapple-gray horses… How can Kazys be so cruel?!

Chapter Ten – Lithuania

Well, ladies and gentlemen, we have come to the big one – Lithuania!

A few years ago, 5 or so, I came across this Lithuanian singer, yes, that’s the one, sure you know her already – Alina Orlova. That was my first contact with Lithuania in any way. Before that I never knew or heard anything about this country, never heard the language, never knew anything else except that the capital city is called Vilnius. I need to thank my geography teacher for that.

Later, around 4 years ago, I actually met my first real, flesh-and-blood Lithuanians – Inga and Arturas. Oh those crazy people! I believe it goes without saying, that we immediately clicked with Inga. Paper letters still keep flying around between Lithuania and Hungary, occasional visits one or two times a year, and once I even received a real picture, signed by Alina Orlova, from one of her concerts in Vilnius. How cool is that? My interest towards Lithuania started growing, and I’ve always felt the urge to know more about it. I’m sure I’ll spend more time there, and not just that one day I had in Vilnius. So Inga – brace yourself!

I’ve been waiting for this Lithuanian book quite impatiently, because I am very interested in what Inga has to say about my choice. When we first started this project I didn’t want to read anything from Bulgaria, because I’m Bulgarian after all, and I’m more interested in other cultures’ literature, and Inga had the same problem with Lithuania. So we decided to switch – while I read Lithuania, she’s going to read Bulgaria.

As you already know – I like magic, mythologiess and things like that, as long as they’re not full of vampires, twilight and nonsense teenage drama and chick-lit-ness. Give me my mythologies, magical realism and folklore. Next to more serious things, of course, not instead. The further up south you go, the more interested I am in local beliefs. Imagine my happiness, when I found a book, which uses Lithuanian myths and folktales as a base.

“Whitehorn’s Windmill” by Kazys Boruta is a story about Whitehorn the miller, and his efforts to find a match for his daughter, Jurga. It is filled with folktales, traditions and beliefs, some of which even go back to the pagan days. The narrative is described as “bearing a lyrical style that gives full rein to the oral folktale tradition Lithuania is famous for”. I have already read some excerpts and short stories from Lithuanian writers in different anthologies I’ve received as gifts from Inga, and I have enjoyed every one of them. Now however, I am extremely happy to have the opportunity to actually read a whole novel. While this book was waiting for me patiently on my bookshelf, I found another Lithuanian book and for a moment there I was not sure which one to read. One about folk traditions + some magic, or one about socialism, regime and oppression. Since my experience with Lithuanian literature so far did include materials dealing with the socialist part of history, I decided to go for the fairytale. I want to know more about Lithuania’s culture and beliefs. The other book is still waiting on my shelf, though and I will definitely go back to it. I could never say no to a Lithuanian book if I can put my hands on it.

And also – one of the main characters in Whitehorn’s Windmill is called Jurgis. That would be my name in Lithuanian. I think this is destiny.

Sugar sandwiches and sadness

I am sure a lot of children out there, who have tried, or at least thought about running away from home. I, personally, have tried it a few times in my childhood. What would happen would be the following – my parents would forbid me something, or would yell at me for one reason, or the other. I would storm into my room, all big-headed, with hair falling into my eyes, I would pack some clothes into a bag, without even choosing them or paying attention to what I pack, I would put on my shoes, and I would storm out of the house, while my parents would watch TV or do whatever they’re up to.

Then I would sit on the bench in the yard, at the front door, and would wait for someone to come after me and beg me not to do it and to come back inside. My parents, knowing that that’s the case, would give me 5-10 minutes, and would wait for me to come back all sulky, and go quietly into my room.

Lucy, however, took it a step further… When Lucy ran away from home, with her sugar sandwiches and apples, everyone thought she had drowned at sea, after she had lost her vest while swimming. Her parents, forced to leave their estate in Ireland, because the locals are trying to set it on fire with them in it, leave the house heart-broken and set off to France, Switzerland and Italy, not leaving any traces behind them, not communicating with anyone, losing themselves in their sorrow, because of their dead daughter.

And then they find Lucy. With a broken leg in the woods, barely alive, Lucy, who then spends her life waiting for her parents to come back, waiting for someone to find them somewhere in Europe.

I believe The Story of Lucy Gault is mostly about loneliness, tragedy and disappointment. The girl, who grows up in a huge house, without her parents and with the help of the houseworkers. The broken hearts of a mother and a father, who can only find solace in each other’s company after the loss of their only child. A 27-year-old woman, who meets love for the first time, but can not say “yes”, because her father is not there to give his blessing. And the big disappointment, when the above mentioned father finds his way home, after losing his wife, and what his more than 30 year old daughter sees is just an old man. The sadness in Lucy Gault growing old, and how people know her in the village. As the lonely old Protestant lady.

William Trevor is an author with an impressive and very enjoyable narrative style. The Story of Lucy Gault is somewhat of how I have always imagined Ireland – with vast spaces and cold beaches, some sadness, some inspiration and a lot of green. Reading this book gave me one more reason to actually visit Ireland some time soon. And yes, I will be back to William Trevor as well.

10 am sharp

“Ever since then I’ve believed in nuts, that nuts helps. I don’t really believe it, but I want to have done whatever I can that might help. That’s why I stick to my stone for cracking nuts, and always do it in the morning. Once the nut’s been cracked, it loses its power if it lies open overnight. Of course it would be easier on Paul and the neighbors – not to mention myself – if I split them open in the evening, but I can’t have people telling me what time to crack nuts.” – Herta Müller, “The Appointment”

So with this book I wanted to highlight every third sentence as a quote. Somewhere around the middle I stopped, because I realized I’d just re-write half of it in my Goodreads progress updates and comments. I admit there are a few topics I’m usually not that interested in and one of them is totalitarianism and socialism. Lived a bit of it, heard a lot of it, read some as well. And it’s still constantly in the news around here, with political parties still pointing fingers at it and blaming everything on it. Even almost thirty years later.

This book, however, grabbed me very fast, and very strong. It’s not so much about socialism and totalitarianism itself, as it is about a woman and her surroundings during this period. Her husband, her in-laws, the craziness of people around, the death of a shoemaker and a final betrayal. About Lilli. It’s not about socialism itself, it’s about the people living in it. It doesn’t mention the words “socialism” or “Ceausescu” even once.

Everything in this book happens during a tram ride on the way to an interrogation. She has been summoned and she has enough time to think and remember things. Things from her childhood, from her first and second marriage. To remember the crippled son of the bread factory guard she used to play with in her childhood, before he died. How she left her first husband and how she met her second one. She remembers a lot about Lilli, the very beautiful Lilli, which ends up turning into a field of poppies on the Hungarian border.

I read this book while I myself was traveling in a tram to work and back home. Reading this on tram №24 quite often made me feel as if I myself was thinking and remembering these things. Especially when from time to time Herta Müller makes comments about the passengers in the tram, or how it stops somewhere on the way and people get on and off. I feel like I did manage to live a part of this book.

It might sound bizarre, but this actually made it to my list of favorite books. It looks like I am going to have a favorite book out of every five I read for this project. Who knows, I might end up picking one as the ultimate favorite from these 20 countries. If that’s going to be the case – then The Appointment by Herta Müller is most definitely going to be taken into consideration.

Next stop – Ireland.

Chapter Eight – Romania

Sometimes I think I’m easy to impress. In some cases it only takes a sentence – give me 3 to 15 words in the right order, and the right moment and you’ve won me then and there. Sometimes it even takes such a small thing as choosing one word correctly. Most of the time it happens when I’m listening to music. For example Bat for Lashes is one of the musicians that can seriously send shivers down my spine with the right words in the right time, with the right musical accompaniment. I suppose it has something to do with my having a pretty visual imagination. Most of the times I imagine the things I read or hear there in front of me. The more I’m interested and infatuated, the more vividly do I imagine it.

I’ve had some experience with Romanian literature before. I was in high-school when I first heard of Mircea Eliade from my sister. Later, when I was studying in Szeged and was interested in the topic of shamanism and I did go back to some of his researches in the field. Meanwhile, however, I read his “Bengal Nights” or also known as “Maitreyi” in some languages, which is a novel that deals with arranging marriages in Asia. I then moved to Mircea Cartarescu and this is when I lost my interest in Romanian literature.

I didn’t want to turn to these two authors for apparent reasons – I’ve actually read both, and I actually really disliked one. So I asked a friend of mine, which comes from the Hungarian minority in Romania, whether he can recommend something. He wasn’t really sure what to suggest, as apparently he’s not reading a lot of local authors. He did mention 3 or 4 names, but the name of Herta Müller somehow stuck a bit better than the rest. And so I looked her up. Born in Romania in a family of German descent, she was basically bullied by Securitate when she refused to cooperate with them. In 87 she managed to migrate to Germany and has been living there ever since. She’s the holder of a Nobel Prize.

You’re probably wondering how does that first paragraph about my vivid imagination connects to what I’ve written so far. Well, it’s these three sentences about the main character in the novel “The Appointment”:
“Her crime? Sewing notes into the linings of men’s suits bound for Italy. “Marry me,” the notes say, with her name and address.”

Don’t ask me, I can’t really elaborate on how and why this impressed me so much. But it did and here I am, reading about Securitate, Romania in the years of totalitarianism and this woman, who sews her hopes in a male suit bound for Italy. A woman, who has been summoned for interrogation at 10 am sharp, but misses the stop where she has to get off.

And of course it’s not all that simple.

The sad eyes of Hanna Shafar

To be completely honest – I was a bit fooled by the beginning of the book, because it told the story of two different people in the village. This is why when Hanna appeared in the third chapter, I thought she is just one of the few characters that will have their story told short. Little did I know Hanna, and her almond eyes, are the main character of this refreshing novel.

This is a story of a village with a Jewish majority. A place, where people are poor, they live by traditions held for centuries and they firmly believe they are the descendants of a great king. And of course there is Hanna, the most beautiful girl in her village. As it often happens, people in this village don’t really keep in pace with the outside world. That’s why it comes like a big shock for them once different Jewish groups begin visiting the village – some gathering people into groups and collecting money for chosen ones to go to Palestine, and others who try to keep the traditions; the clashes these groups have, in the otherwise small and calm village.

And so Hanna ends up in Ostrava, where she starts working, and where they put her money aside so they can send her to Palestine as one of the chosen people. However, she meets Ivo… or in other words Izak, who gave up Judaism and changed his name. The book shows what happens in a small, conservative village in the last century, when a young Jewish girl introduces her non-Jewish fiancée to her family. And how once she leaves the village with her beloved, people start singing their mourning songs and prayers.

I’ve never been really interested in Czech literature. I’ve only read one or two authors from the Czech Republic so far, and I’m really happy I received this book as a present, because it was interesting, new and refreshing – far from my magical realism inclinations. Finally! Next stop – Romania.

Chapter Seven – Czech Republic

I admit I haven’t read too many books which deal with Judaism and Jewish culture. I’ve read some about that awful period in the history of the world, of course, but not much about the culture, the traditions and the belief system. Maybe it’s because where I come from it has never been a topic. I’ve never had any Jewish friends, because there weren’t any in my class, not sure if there were any in my school. In Sofia I never met any, or at least I don’t know of it, because it has never been a topic among me and my friends. And so I started hearing about things like mikve, tzitzit, the chosen 36 only when I came to Budapest. And I found this world very interesting.

This is why I was very happy when I received my Czech book as a present, and it turned out to have a lot of this. Ivan Olbracht’s “Golet v udoli”, which doesn’t seem to have been translated to English. The Hungarian title is “The valley of curses” and I still don’t know why – I hope it’s not because of an unexpected, bad, sad turn in the story. Honestly – I decided not to look it up and not to read too much information. For this one I would really like to enjoy reading a book I haven’t researched, and know almost nothing of. So I’m going to visit a small village by the name of Polana somewhere in the Czech Republic, where people live very poorly, they don’t have the money to buy flour, and that’s why wives and children need to go and cry, shout and demand credit in the local shop. But people still go to the mikve, still live accordingly and still hope for the best. I’m off to the Czech Republic.

Care to join?