Showing posts with label Prus Boleslaw. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Prus Boleslaw. Show all posts

Friday, June 25, 2021

Anthology of Modern Slavonic Literature in Prose and Verse, translated and edited by Paul Selver



Eastern European stories and poems in English translation
Wladyslaw Reymont
As the title suggests,
Anthology of Modern Slavonic Literature in Prose and Verse is a collection of short literary works from Eastern Europe. In this context, “Slavonic” means the same as “Slavic.” The book includes selections from Russian, Ukrainian, Polish, Czech, Serbian, Croatian, and Slovenian authors. This volume was edited by British writer Paul Selver, who also translated all of the works into English. In addition to writing his own novels and poetry, Selver was a multilinguist who also translated German, French, and Norwegian works. He was primarily known for his Czech translations, in particular the works of Karel Capek (who does not appear in this book). This anthology was published in 1919, but the works included date as far back as 1845.

The prose section of this volume includes short stories, brief essays, and a couple of one-act plays. A few recognizable names appear in this volume. The great Russian master of short stories Anton Chekhov provides a finely drawn comical tale, “In a Foreign Land.” Polish Nobel Prize-winner Wladyslaw Reymont is represented by a scene excerpted from his novel Promised Land. Polish author Boleslaw Prus’s story “From the Legends of Ancient Egypt” calls to mind his novel Pharaoh, set in the same era. The rest of the names on the table of contents will likely be new to the vast majority of English-language readers. The better entries include Czech author Jan Neruda’s “The Vampire,” which is not the horror story its title implies, but it does deliver a surprisingly morbid ending. Polish writer Wiktor Gomulicki’s portrait of an aged farmer is the literary equivalent of a gritty Gustave Courbet painting. Ukraine’s foremost poet of the 19th century, Taras Shevtchenko, tells his own story in an autobiographical essay written for a literary journal. Reymont’s selection is the best in the book, but if this were a short-story Olympics, the Russians would take the gold with strong showings by Chekhov, Dmitri Merezhkovsky, and Fyodor Sologub.


The latter half of the book is devoted to poetry, about 130 pages worth from the authors of seven nations. Almost all are written in rhyming verse, with Selver doing his best to preserve the rhyme schemes in his English translations. Many are romantic evocations of nature typical of the late 19th century. The more interesting selections deal with subject matter unique to the authors’ nationalities and ethnicity, the most obvious example being Czech poet Petar Preradovic’s anthemic “To Slavdom.” Shevtchenko’s poem “If Lordlings, Ye Could Only Know . . .” depicts a hellish view of serfdom. Petr Bezruc, in his series of poems, laments the plight of the oppressed Silesian Czechs. One surprising entry is Czech poet Antonin Sova’s “To Theodor Mommsen.” Rather than a tribute to the German Nobel laureate and classical historian, Sova’s poem is an extended insult that attacks Mommsen as the “arrogant spokesman of slavery.”


Classic Slavic literature is hard to come by in English translation. Selver’s welcome anthology does the valuable service of introducing the British or American reader to many hitherto unfamiliar authors. He even includes helpful mini-biographies of each writer. If you discover authors you like here, however, it may be impossible to find further samples of their work in English. Overall, the good and bad entries in this volume average out to a middling collection. Those with an interest in Eastern European culture, however, will appreciate the bits of history, artistic heritage, and national customs revealed in these stories and poems. Because of the large quantity of verse, it will especially appeal to readers who enjoy poetry.


Stories in this collection
(Also 130 pages of poems, not listed below)

In a Foreign Land by Anton Chekhov
My Life by Dimitri Merezhkovsky
The Tiny Man by Fyodor Sologub
The Demigod by S. N. Sergeyev-Tsensky
Autobiography by Taras Shevtchenko
The Ploughman by Wiktor Gomulicki
From the Legends of Ancient Egypt by Boleslaw Prus
Chopin by Stanislaw Przybyszewski
In the Old Town at Lodz by Wladyslaw Reymont
Sonia by Jan Svatopluk Machar
The Vampire by Jan Neruda
The Advent of Spring in the South by Arne Novák
June (play in one act) by Frána Srámek
The Latin Boy by Simo Matavulj

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Monday, August 6, 2018

The Pharaoh and the Priest by Boleslaw Prus



(About as much fun as) an ancient Egyptian civics lesson
The Pharaoh and the Priest, a novel by Polish author Boleslaw Prus, was originally serialized in the Polish magazine Illustrated Weekly (Tygodnik Ilustrowany) from 1895 to 1896 before being published in book form in 1897. It was first published as Pharaoh, but Jeremiah Curtin, ubiquitous translator of 19th-century Polish literature, modified the title for the English edition of 1902. Set in ancient Egypt, the story takes place from 1087 to 1085 BC and focuses on the life of Ramses XIII, beginning with his adolescence under his father Ramses XII’s reign and proceeding to his own rise and fall as Pharaoh of Egypt. Coincidentally, it was published in the same year as another Polish ancient epic, the better known Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiewicz. The two books are drastically different in style, however, as Sienkiewicz’s work is operatically romantic while Prus writes in a more naturalistic style with an emphasis on historical accuracy and realistic detail. Essentially a copiously researched political novel about the fall of Egypt’s Twentieth Dynasty, The Pharaoh and the Priest may suffer from too much authenticity in that it reads like an arduously long and tediously slow-moving Egyptian civics lesson.

The story begins as Ramses XIII reaches manhood and is just beginning to assume a leadership role in his father’s administration. After the son has proven himself an able military commander, the father sends young Ramses on an important state mission: to solve the mystery of why once-glorious Egypt is now suffering from shrinking revenue, a loss of arable land, and a declining population. Over the course of his investigation, Ramses finds himself continually butting heads with a priestly bureaucracy that secretly undermines the Pharaoh’s authority for its own financial and political gain. As he becomes more and more familiar with the workings of state power, Ramses resolves that when he takes over his father’s position as Pharaoh, he will bend the priesthood to his will.

Whatever Prus has to say about the mechanisms of power, he develops his case in a painfully slow manner. Never at any time did I finish one of the book’s 67 chapters feeling compelled to begin another. In each chapter Ramses learns a little lesson about the government, but both the author and his protagonist fail to really capitalize on this incremental knowledge. Prus occasionally undercuts his own attention to historical detail with hints of fantasy such as an unnavigable labyrinth full of treasure and an evil doppelganger for Ramses. For me, some of the more interesting passages in the book concerned Ramses’s relationships with women, but these threads were often only partially developed before being abandoned.

As a political study, it’s difficult to see how this book was intended to apply to the modern era. Prus may have envisioned the novel as a metaphor for the fall of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, which took place about a century before the book’s publication. Though its depiction of an evil priesthood would seem to imply an antireligious stance, the real target of the book appears to be the aristocracy or governmental bureaucracy. If anything, Prus argues in favor of a strong central authoritarian rule, which may explain why this was one of Joseph Stalin’s favorite books.

As a literary epic of the ancient world, The Pharaoh and the Priest doesn’t measure up to Quo Vadis, Gustave Flaubert’s Salammbô, or even Lew Wallace’s rather dull Ben-Hur. Prus is a writer worth reading, but I much prefer his writing when he focuses on his native Poland, as in his excellent 1880 novel The Returning Wave (Powracajaca Fala).
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Friday, August 16, 2013

The Returning Wave by Boleslaw Prus



A brief but profoundly moving masterwork
The Returning Wave is a short novel of about 100 pages by Polish author Boleslaw Prus, originally published in 1880. An English translation of the novel by Else C. M. Benecke and Marie Busch is included in their collection More Tales by Polish Authors, and Amazon also sells a bilingual Polish and English edition in paperback, under its Polish title of Powracajaca Fala. I have only read the English version, but I can say that this is an excellent little piece of literature that’s worth reading in any language.

Two childhood friends, Martin Boehme and Gottlieb Adler, grew up together in Germany. As adults, they are neighbors and friends in a small town in Poland. Boehme is the town’s protestant pastor, while Adler owns the textile factory and is the town’s primary employer. Adler is a self-made man who worked his way up from nothing to a position of wealth. His motivation for hard work is the hope of someday living a life of leisure, yet he becomes so addicted to work that he little enjoys the riches he has acquired. Adler allows his son Ferdinand to live an idle, self-indulgent life, so that the father may live vicariously through the young man’s frivolous adventures. Adler looks forward to the day when his savings reach a million roubles, so he can retire and travel the world with his son. In the meantime, Ferdinand racks up tremendous debts, which Adler transfers to his factory laborers through economizing measures which extend the workers hours and lower their wages. Adler considers his wealth and power equivalent to the divine right of kings. He consciously exploits the lower classes and sees himself as immune to any repercussions for doing so. Under his iron hand, however, the workers begin to show signs of unrest.

Prus does an expert job of shifting perspective between Adler, Boehme, Ferdinand, and the workers. The characters are all superbly well-drawn, and the plot is captivating. This story has a fabulistic tone that resembles the better morality tales of Honoré de Balzac. The title refers to a conversation between two characters in the book. One speaker uses ripples or waves in the water as a metaphor for what is essentially the concept of karma—the idea that if you do bad things they will eventually come back to haunt you, like a wave returning to shore. Despite the ethical lessons being taught, the story never departs from the naturalistic realm of gritty reality. Prus displays a social consciousness and a precision of detail reminiscent of some of Emile Zola’s best novels. The Returning Wave is just one example of how the great authors of Polish literature—though lesser known than their French, Russian, or English counterparts—deserve a place of renown among the highest ranks of world literature.

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Friday, February 15, 2013

Selected Polish Tales by Boleslaw Prus, et al.



Mostly mediocre works by otherwise great authors
In 1915 and 1916, translator and editor Else C. M. Benecke published two collections of short stories and novellas entitled Tales by Polish Authors and More Tales by Polish Authors. She was working on a third collection at the time of her death. Completed by her colleague Marie Busch, this volume was published in 1921 under the title Selected Polish Tales. Perhaps the posthumous completion of the book explains why it feels like a collection of leftovers. Compared to the two volumes that proceeded it, this third collection is a disappointment.

Two-thirds of the volume is taken up by a complete novel, The Outpost by Boleslaw Prus. Though Prus is one of Poland’s most renowned authors, this is not his best work. Originally published in 1886, it tells the story of Josef Slimak, a gospodarz, or peasant landowner. Slimak embodies the peasantry’s admirable work ethic but also their ignorance and resistance to change. At first the book seems like it’s going to be about the interaction between the different social strata of Polish society. Then it becomes a tale of conflict between Slimak and some German colonists. Then a series of tragedies befalls Slimak. At first, these hardships are clearly the consequences of his poor decisions. Later in the book, however, Slimak suffers a number of essentially random catastrophes, and the book devolves from a tragedy into a miserable tale of woe. Though the novel offers some interesting perspective on Poland’s socioeconomic history, the story is relentlessly slow, and the unsatisfying ending leaves the reader with a feeling of pointlessness.

Nobel laureate Wladyslaw Reymont has two pieces in this book. In the preface, Busch says they are excerpts from his novel The Peasants. Having read The Peasants, however, I know that to be incorrect. They are obviously excerpts from some larger work, however, for they feel incomplete and out of context. The one entitled “Death” is a particularly fruitless meditation on misery, in which a dying man is abused by his daughter because he has disinherited her. It’s possible these selections come from great novels, but as presented here they fail to adequately represent Reymont’s formidable talents.

There are a couple of bright spots amidst this otherwise gray collection. Adam Szymanski’s “A Pinch of Salt” is set in Siberia among the Polish dissidents who have been exiled there. This story is the closest thing to lighthearted and touching that can be found in this otherwise bleak collection, and it even finishes off with a satisfying bit of a surprise ending. In the bleak category, the strongest piece is “The Sentence” by Juliusz Kaden-Bandrowski. Set in World War I, it relates the story of a cold and starving old man whose cottage is encroached upon by a threatening band of Cossack soldiers. It is an emotionally powerful story that moves in some unexpected directions.

The absolute worst selection in the book is “P.P.C.” by Madame Rygier-Nalkowska, set in the early days of World War I. The resolution of the story hinges upon the abbreviation in the title, yet nowhere is it explained what these three letters stand for.

While there are some excellent authors included here, for the most part this collection doesn’t do justice to them. Rather than reading Selected Polish Tales, seek out the previous two volumes in this series, which are far superior to this one.


Stories in this collection
The Outpost by Boleslaw Prus 
A Pinch of Salt by Adam Szymanski 
Kowalski the Carpenter by Adam Szymanski 
Forebodings: Two Sketches by Stefan Zeromski 
A Polish Scene by Wladyslaw Reymont 
Death by Wladyslaw Reymont 
The Sentence by Juliusz Kaden-Bandrowski 
P.P.C. by Madame Rygier-Nalkowska 

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Friday, November 9, 2012

More Tales by Polish Authors by Boleslaw Prus, et al.



Another great collection of Polish short fiction
Boleslaw Prus
As is apparent from the title, this is the second volume in a series collecting the short stories of Polish authors. This collection, with English translations by Else C. M. Benecke and Marie Busch, was originally published in 1916.

The book leads off with two stories by Adam Szymanski, “Maciej the Mazur” and “Two Prayers.” Both depict the lives of Polish political exiles and colonists in Siberia. In Szymanski’s portrayal, Siberia is a bleak, frozen place inhabited by lonely souls who desperately seek each other out for any opportunity to share their memories, both good and bad, of the former lives they led in the beloved mother country. “The Chukchee” by Waclaw Sieroszewski is also set in Siberia, but deals with the indigenous population. A Polish colonist meets with a band of the nomadic Chukchee people, in hopes of opening a trading relationship with them. After the tribe departs his village, he joins a missionary expedition through treacherous terrain to visit the native people at their home camp in the remote tundra.

The bleak atmosphere that permeates this book is not confined to Siberia, but is applied to the small towns and rural villages of Poland as well. In “The Trial” by Nobel Prize winner Wladyslaw Reymont, when a mob of peasants discover the thieves who have been committing robberies in their village, they take the law into their own hands, trying and sentencing the accused with their own brutal brand of jurisprudence. Stefan Zeromski’s “The Stronger Sex” tells of a poor, idealistic doctor who opens a practice in a small provincial town. The overwhelming ignorance, superstition, and conservatism of the peasant populace deadens his intellect and robs him of any professional drive he once possessed. He is shaken from his lethargy one night, however, when he is informed that a school teacher in the next town has taken deathly ill.

The longest and best piece in the book is a 100-page novella by Boleslaw Prus entitled “The Returning Wave.” Gottlieb Adler is a self-made man who worked his way up from nothing to a position of wealth. As owner of a textile factory, he is the primary employer in his small town. Adler allows his son Ferdinand to live an idle, self-indulgent life. When the young man racks up tremendous debts, Adler transfers them to his factory laborers through economizing measures which extend the workers hours and lower their wages. Under his iron hand, however, the workers begin to show signs of unrest. This is an excellent piece of literature reminiscent of some of the best works by Emile Zola and Honoré de Balzac.

I don’t read Polish, so I can’t critique the translation, but I will say that at times the English prose is a bit awkward and hampers readability. Occasionally the text could use some clarification in simple matters like who’s speaking in a conversation or which direction a character is moving. This is more evident in the works of Szymanski and Sieroszewski, but not much of a problem in the Reymont or Prus entries. This collection has no introduction and only very limited footnotes, so you are expected to know the historical context behind these stories. American readers unfamiliar with Polish history may have to consult Wikipedia to get their bearings. These stories are worth the extra work, however. If you enjoy naturalistic literature of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, you will find that the Polish offerings in this series deserve a distinguished place in the canon of world literature.


Stories in this collection
Maciej the Mazur by Adam Szymanski 
Two Prayers by Adam Szymanski 
The Trial by Wladyslaw Reymont 
The Stronger Sex by Stefan Zeromski 
The Chukchee by Waclaw Sieroszewski 
The Returning Wave by Boleslaw Prus 

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