House of the Rising Sun

I haven't written about the book I read before Harris' yet. I didn't have the time then, and after that I was spellbound by the Harris book and felt the urge to write about that. But to keep up good habits, I'll write about it now.

I read Ének a búzamezőkről (Song of the Wheatfields) by Ferenc Móra for my boyfriend's sake. He started reading it before we went to Szeged, and when he finished he strongly recommended that I read it as well. It wouldn't be much of a lie if I said that this was the first book I'd read by Móra because the other one I had read, Kincskereső kisködmön (The Treasure-seeking Little Jacket,) was a compulsory reading in second grade. I mean, for one thing, I don't remember much of the story. Secondly, I think that the way a child reads and interprets a story is pretty much different from the "adult" way. As a child you don't start looking for historic background, symbolism, narrative strategies, and all that stuff, and I think in a way it's better and more natural. However, a child often remains on the surface of the story (if we assume that there is a distinction between surface and deeper meaning,) and as a consequence, remains more detached from it. For example, I didn't like Kincskereső kisködmön because it was sad and the little sister died, and there was this old wives' tale about the so-called markoláb, as in "elvisz a markoláb," which might be something like the bogeyman or sandman coming for bad kids.
When we were in Szeged, we visited the Móra museum and it was then that I started to see how versatile Móra was, a renaissance man indeed. He worked for newspapers, wrote books for adults and children, supervised archeological excavations, and worked as the director of the museum later to be named after him. He was from the country, so there was the controversy between village people and intellectuals in him. It took this trip and this book for me to appreciate him as a human being rather than a textbook passage about a serious-looking guy presented by smug adults.
This book, Ének a búzamezőkről, tells the story of a family he encountered during one of his excavations. He began writing it in Italy and finished it on the farm of one of the protagonists. The story is set in a small village, following the life of a family during and after the First World War. Mátyás and Róza own a farm. Their son, Rókus is fighting in the war. His wife, Etel was brought up in the family as an orphan, and now is living with the old couple and her daughter. On the next farm Piroska, whose husband, Ferenc, is also on the front, is pregnant from the Russian prisoner of war, Spiridinov.
In this microcosm Móra depicts the political and technological changes of the era (e.g. communism, the situation of the Jews, requisitions, drainage) as well as the impacts of the war on everyday people and the choices they have in this chaotic world. The characters end up in strange relationships, friends fight each other, neighbors spy on each other, lovers part, children die, and all through this they try to find some stable value they can rely upon, such as the Virgin Mary.
Despite the sad ending the book had a certain charm and optimistic stance throughout. Móra created a friendly atmosphere on the very first pages. He depicted a world seen through the eyes of the Hungarian peasant (the paraszt), who has his own sense of humor and way of thinking. Old Mátyás is a much lovable character, very much like a grandpa, with all his wisecracks and good old habits, such as cleaning his pipe and drinking wine. He is then contrasted with the director of the museum, who I guess was based on Móra himself, and the young reformer Ferenc, who stands somewhere inbetween Mátyás and the educated director.
It was interesting that in the end the only protagonist who stayed alive was Mátyás, and of course the children, representing the new generation. The conclusion is that all that remains is the land itself, which covers everything and everyone else. And it was interesting for I realized that Mary came to a quite similar conclusion in Lessing's The Grass Is Singing, even though that was about a very much distinct culture.
At the moment I'm reading The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje, and I've realized that this is the third book in a row I'm reading about war, even if it and the Harris book were about WWII and Móra's about WWI. Usually I don't like war-themed books and films, but in all three mentioned here the focus is not on the front line but the hinterland and the aftermath of the war. Not to mention that all three are beautifully written, and yet totally different from each other.