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2th edition, 2007.
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Sentences about Géza Szávai’s novel: Aletta’s Ark
° ‘Géza Szávai’s new novel is an embarrassing, disquieting, exciting piece of reading. You face demons in it… It bites into your flesh…’ (Tibor Szabó in Irodalmi Jelen)
° ‘Szávai’s novel is a transition between historical novels, lyric pornography and psalms originated in carnal love – and during the creative synthesis something beautiful is born: Aletta Huebler’s strange world, imbued with voluptuousness and faith:” (Tamás Koncz in Új Könyvpiac)
° ’Szávai has written something outstanding, which is proved – for me – by automatically comparing everything I have read since then to Aletta’s Ark.’ (Zoltán Ónagy in Új Magyar Szó, Bucharest)
° ’…the reader can enter the mysterious Japanese world, too. And those who are able to be on the same wavelength will take part in Aletta’s story and will never get rid of it.’ (György Bajna in Hargita Népe, Csíkszereda)
° ’Aletta’s Ark works with an enormous system of symbols, which are built onto the story like the layers of an onion.’ (Szabolcs Benedek in Élet és Irodalom)
° ’The world of Aletta’s Ark is cruel, but aesthetically it could hardly be kinder.’ (Béla Bíró in Romániai Magyar Szó, Bucharest)
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MAYA J. LO BELLO: Aletta’s narrative… ...takes the form of an intensely personal, emotional dialogue with God, her only refuge in a life rendered tumultuous first by a religious war in Holland, then by emigration to Japan with a group of Dutch missionaries eager to spread Christianity. The shogun, however, eventually orders his commander, Kodjima Miki, to execute all Christians and remove any traces of the missionaries’ settlement, New Amsterdam. The only European left following the massacre, Aletta is secretly allowed to remain alive as Kodjima Miki’s hostage, then as his lover. Aletta Huebler eventually gives birth to two, half-Japanese, half-Dutch children and—in a reversal of the biblical story of Abraham and Isaac—Aletta and Kodjima Miki sacrifice themselves in order to put their children on the Noah’s ark of Aletta’s imagination, a ship sailing in search of a place where a mixed heritage is tolerated. Subtle details and interesting layers are added to this rather simple plot by the addition of the third-person singular narrative of a Japanese family’s quest to interpret this story one hundred years later. While this narrative eventually spans two generations, it is actually inspired by Sakuma-san, the scholarly, detective-like official responsible for rooting out all signs of Christianity from Japan. The combination of Aletta’s and the Inoue family’s vision of the same events evolves into an interesting commentary on how two cultures—which could be categorized as being either Dutch or Japanese, Western or Asian, Christian or non- Christian, female or male in nature—experience the past, present and future. While the historical background for this novel is accurate, the complex usage of symbolism, intertextuality,— this work abounds with examples of Japanese literature and mythology, as well as biblical references—a splintered narrative style and the lack of an orderly sequence of events places Aletta’s Ark into the realm of post-modern literature, rather than historical fiction. In fact, the author expends little effort in describing such things as landscape or dress, for this is a novel that instead delves into its characters’ most private thoughts. Géza Szávai’s technique of compressing the narrative into short splinters of memories or events results in what could be called the language of taboo: Aletta Huebler, Kodjima Miki and Sakuma-san are each forced to exist within very exact boundaries that must never be overstepped. This, however, is precisely what each character does. Aletta creates her own, feminine definition of a religion in which a woman’s body is just as holy as either an ark, or a cherry tree. Kodjima Miki defies shogunate law in order to keep Aletta and his children, while the Inoue family slowly reaches the unspoken conclusion that no military strategy will ever be enough to defend Japan from the West. This overstepping of boundaries is emphasized by a deliberately short, “bitten-off” sentence structure that leaves a lot unsaid; in order to understand this novel, one must listen to the silences left between sentences, a discipline often demanded by Japanese poetry. In many ways Aletta’s Ark is comparable to a renga, a type of Japanese poem written by two poets who juxtapose unexpected elements in order to create a new kind of understanding. At the same time, this novel could also be seen as a kind of a modern psalm dedicated to those issues and peoples left unsung in the Bible. A combination of post-modern prose, vulgar terms, myth and poetry, Aletta’s Ark is an interesting—and often shocking—exploration into what it means to be a minority. According to Géza Szávai’s interpretation, minority status goes far deeper than religious denomination, culture or language: it is an inescapable, biological fact. This interpretation is quite unusual in Eastern Europe, where minorities are usually judged by language or religion, as opposed to skin color or gender. Forrás: METAMORPHOSIS- Fall-2010 0000-00-00 |
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