European
Stories: EUPL Winners Write Europe is an anthology of short stories
by winners of the European Union Prize for Literature (EUPL) published in 2018
and available free online. In the
foreword, ‘Writing Europe – how literature helps us build communities’, Tibor
Navracsics, European Commissioner for Education, Culture, Youth and Sport, says:
‘Europe’s cultural and linguistic
diversity is a tremendous asset. Yet, this diversity makes it difficult for
cultural works to circulate across borders, and this is especially true for
literature. This is why, in 2009, the European Commission decided to launch the
European Union Prize for Literature to support outstanding works of fiction by
new and emerging authors writing in their national languages. In the past nine
editions, we have recognised 108 talented authors from 37 different countries.
We are very proud to have such a great number of excellent laureates, who
represent Europe in their diversity.
‘2018 is a very special year: we
are celebrating the European Year of Cultural Heritage, as well as the tenth
anniversary of the European Union Prize for Literature. To mark this occasion,
we organised a specific contest “A European Story: European Union Prize for
Literature Winners Write Europe”. This is a unique competition for short works
of fiction, exclusively open to previous winners of the prize, to celebrate the
wealth and creativity of Europe’s contemporary literature.’
Of these winners, 36 from 26
countries, writing in 23 languages, entered.
All the submitted stories are presented in the original language and in
English translation. Short biographies of the writers preface their
contributions. There are two Romanian
writers in the anthology. Claudiu
Florian’s first novel, Vârstele jocului.
Strada Cetăţii, won the EUPL in 2016.
His story ‘The Inheritance’ (‘Die Erbschaft’) included here is in German
(he is Director of the Romanian Cultural Institute in Berlin). Ioana Pârvulescu won the EUPL in 2013 for her
novel Life Begins on Friday (Viaţa începe vineri). She is represented by her short story ‘A
Voice’ (‘O voce’).
‘The Inheritance’ recounts a
meeting in the mountains near the Carpathian Sphinx between Adamovicescu, a
Romanian lecturer who is working on a system of philosophical thought called
kaputmunditism, and what at first appears to be an alien. However, by the end it would seem (if I have
figured this out correctly) the creature is actually the grandchild of the
mythological Pasiphae, who gave birth to the Minotaur on Crete.
As Adamovicescu had had a stroke (his
background is full of improbabilities and his four alleged doctorates were
acquired with ludicrous ease), it is possible he is an unreliable
narrator. Most of the story is taken up
by a dialogue in which he tries to explain life on earth to the visitor but
only manages to confuse the situation by his incoherence. The story concludes on a cliffhanger with ‘To
be continued’, but hopefully that is a joke.
‘A Voice’ is a beautifully
structured story about a homecoming. A
young woman at a passport control booth in an eastern European airport is
processing passengers who have just arrived on an aeroplane from Paris. Since the December 1989 revolution, the
flights coming in from western Europe have been full and passengers are dealt
with on autopilot by the overstretched staff.
One elderly lady proffers her passport, but when she speaks, the
passport controller is overcome with emotion, rushes out and hugs the newcomer,
even though she has never seen her before.
The scene shifts to 1947 and a young woman is trying to get into
American-controlled Austria en route
to Paris. Despite having valid
documentation she is put off the train, and only manages to complete the
journey after much difficulty.
The third section, 44 years
later, switches to a first person narrative and the same woman and her husband
fly eastwards from Orly. In exile she
had worked for Radio Free Europe, broadcasting to her home country despite
physical violence towards her and the murder of her mother, giving hope to
those suffering from its repression. Now
at last she is free to return. At
passport control she proffers her passport and says “Good evening, Miss!” ,
whereupon the young woman in the booth comes round to hug her hard. “I am crying like a fool because only now do
I realise that we’re actually free,” she says.
There is another story in the
volume, by Macedonian Lidija Dimkovska, dealing partly with Romania, at least
obliquely. ‘When I left “Karl
Liebknecht”’ (‘Кога заминав од „Карл Либкнехт“’) consists of a series of short
statements ostensibly by individuals gathered for a meeting organised by the
Society of Admirers of Karl Liebknecht at Karl
Liebknecht House in Leipzig. All had
emigrated from their countries of birth, and had lived at an address associated
with the name Karl Liebknecht prior to emigration.
The first concerns Vitalie who
had grown up in a house on Karl Liebknecht Street in Tiraspol, Transnistria. One afternoon in 2006 he was on a trolleybus in
the city when a bomb exploded. He moved
to Bucharest, and his father advised him to forget Transnistria and present
himself as coming from Moldova. When his
father died he brought his mother to Bucharest but while he uses Latin script
his mother struggles because she is used to Cyrillic, and he finds himself
using it as well when jotting shopping lists, his sole legacy from Tiraspol. Sometimes he misses the Dniester, he says, and
feels Romania is a foreign country to which they have to adjust.
