Above: Morelle's photo of a stork in Latvia

 

May 2024.

Recent views have been of London, where I spent a weekend attending the Festival of European Literature in translation.  There is always plenty to see, walking in London's streets. Sometimes words, whether poetry or prose, go well with images, or are inspired by them. Sometimes the images are fleeting, there is no time to take a picture, but the memory remains.

 

Yellow Bird was definitely inspired by this street artwork.

 

…. There’s the big yellow bird painted on the end of a building.

One can’t be sure of this bird I feel, not hostile but not benign

it looks at you not as if you might be prey or even dangerous

but more as if it cannot place you in the cannon of its perceptions.

It seems to be considering that you might be

no real shape at all, no real anything it can identify,

you could be just a blur of movement,

a trick of its bright bird imagination.

 

We catch the uncertainty in the full gaze of its bird eye.

A sense of future, not yet formed.

The traffic passes underneath. People cross the street.

This possibility of outcome, this bird observation

of the flickering and moving swarm of humans

is reflected in the glass frontage of another building in the Euston Road.

 

It is framed here like any other picture,

just one in the gallery of London’s streets.

Removed from direct perception, it looks backwards, like a mirror,

the sense of predator or promise, that has gone,

there is almost nostalgia, as if it sees that you are free to leave the gallery.

 

On the busy streets, in the sunshine,

traffic lights count seconds, as you cross.

A pedestrian, you are low down on the scale of street importance.

But you are free to choose your route, to change your mind,

to pause or to stop and talk to others.

I choose the low red-brick entranceway

into the courtyard garden of the British Library.

 

Peace grabs me like a sentinel, it runs towards me, a long lost friend,

shakes me like a duster and we laugh together.

Maybe this is what the yellow bird had in mind for us, as future, all along.

*

Recent views (August 2024) have been in the courtyard of Edinburgh's Futures Institute, site of the annual International Book Festival.

 

Immigrant writers & the pitfalls of propaganda.

Some flavours of the first week of Edinburgh’s International Book Festival which is held this year at the Edinburgh Futures Institute.

 

Morelle Smith

 

 

Yan Ge (Elsewhere) and Andrzej Tichy (Purity) are both short story writers and both immigrants, Andrzej to Sweden from Czechia, Yan to England from China. The view of an immigrant writer is always fascinating as it can often show aspects of their adopted country that have either been overlooked or become so familiar they are hardly seen at all. These can range from geographical areas of cities, to attitudes or assumptions that are so ingrained that they too become invisible.

 

Yan for example cites a cultural prejudice that she has often come across, which is that Chinese people ‘eat weird things’. And Andrzej says that immigrant writers’ subjects are often described as being on the margins, people who are outsiders, or they will focus on parts of the city which are not central, areas that are not usually written about, and not considered interesting. But that is exactly where he wants to place his characters, because to him they are interesting; in his world people such as cleaners in offices or hotels are not on the margins, they are central. He also wants to challenge the idea that people who do menial work are not interested in literature. Immigrants are often highly educated people who do less skilled work in a new country because of language barriers. He came from Czechia to Sweden when he was just a child and so he learnt Swedish easily. He tried experimenting with writing in English as a teenager but as an adult, he writes in Swedish.

 

Yan Ge has lived in England for many years and now regards it as her home though she says that she feels guilty sometimes for ‘abandoning’ China. This is Yan's first book written in English. She feels that writing in English has revitalized her and given her a new identity, but she is not sure now who her readership is. She feels that she doesn't belong to any club but also wonders if this loneliness might be a gift. She says that 'short story writing is fundamentally different from a novel’ because with a short story, she feels there is always ‘a sense of resistance, it never submits’.

 

When it comes to a sense of identity, she has different linguistic personae and she considers that identity is fluid, is constantly changing as we negotiate with the world around us. She says she writes as a way of refusing to be pinned down in any particular identity. She does not write poetry but is fascinated by those who do, and how they do it. What is poetry? is a constant question for her and she likes to ask poets about their process; how do they know when something will become a poem, how do they step out of narrative, how is it that they manage to ‘escape time’?

 

 

Marianna Spring and Peter Pomerantsev are also interested in identities, in what draws people to certain groups and ideas, what attitudes and practices can create an identity, and how this human need can be shaped or influenced by others, not necessarily for the good. In their books, (Among the Trolls: My Journey through Conspiracyland) and (How to Win an Information War: The Propagandist who outwitted Hitler) they talk about the intricacies and fascinations of conspiracy theories, and of propaganda.

 

Marianna is a journalist, and she interviewed many people while researching her book. She defines conspiracy theory as one where there is absence of evidence behind the theory, and in fact sometimes there is counter-evidence which contradicts it. She found that there were true believers, who are genuinely concerned about corruption and information that is hidden from us, but she is concerned that these people are vulnerable. At a rally in Totnes, a woman called Natalie was truly upset when Marianna questioned her, because she, Natalie, believed that the world was going to end soon and that they would all be killed. Marianna found that there were also non believers who cynically push theories and ideas, exploit people’s vulnerabilities, and are in it for the money. There are also people in between, who may not be committed to the truth of the ideas but are at least partly persuaded.

 

There are people like Darren, who she interviewed. He is editor of The Light, a magazine which publishes extreme theories, along with some hate and racism. She wanted to know why he did this, what was his motivation, why he produces and circulates this magazine. He replied by saying that his motives are the same as hers, he is curious, he is an investigative journalist in the same way she is. Marianna says that she thinks he really believes the things he publishes and is driven by power in his community.

 

When she asks why people believe these theories & what do they get out of it, she thinks that the attraction is that they can give people an identity and a sense of belonging. She has found that many people love being part of this world, they feel that they are the ones who know the truth, and in some cases, there is a cult-like feel to this group identity.

 

Peter Pomerantsev’s book, his third on the topic of propaganda, dives into the world of Sefton Delmer, a British wartime propagandist. Beginning in 1941 Delmer created radio stations, with the purpose of undermining the nazi propaganda. Characters in his shows would pretend to be renegade nazis and initially, many Germans thought they actually were. When German prisoners of war were asked if they listened to these radio broadcasts, (such as Der Chef) forty per cent of them said they did. Delmer’s success in hoodwinking the Germans came at least partly from the fact that although British, he had grown up in Germany and spoke the language very well. He understood, you could say, the German psyche, although he also suffered at school, he was bullied by the other boys because he was British. He understood that you do not get people to change their minds by being dismissive or moralizing, but rather, his persuasive propaganda was designed to show the German people that the nazis did not really care about them. He made out that he was on their side, he gave tips for example on how to fake an illness, if you wanted to leave the front line.

From 1943 on, he wanted the Germans to understand what he was doing, in other words that it was Britons masquerading as Germans.

 

Propaganda, Peter says, is all about identity, it gives you a group identity, it gives you someone to be – for example, in nazi Germany, being an Aryan gives you a superior sense of self, enhanced by a special uniform. This was further encouraged where German soldiers were given journals to record their lives and cameras to take selfies of where they had been. This is the theatrical side of propaganda, like social media today, you are playing a part. Today, he says, we all blur public and private on social media.

 

When he started to research Delmer’s work and character, he found him interesting because he was not partisan in the blinkered way of thinking that one side is bad and wrong while the other is all good. He saw that some people genuinely enjoyed being part of the nazi group, and he believed that people made conscious choices, they were not simply brainwashed dupes. Delmer understood that propaganda is not simply a linear flow from an authoritative source to passive-minded people who are acted upon, but that people also participated, felt, responded, reacted, it was not a one way process. Equally, he did believe that we can take control of our lives. Delmer’s purpose, Peter said, was to return their agency to people, to encourage them to think for themselves, act for themselves, and this sounds quite relevant for today. He had a dramatic outlook on life, he was an adept at psychological masquerade, and he believed that it is precisely in masquerade that we can reveal who we are.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*****

Balkan Bombshells An anthology of women's writing from Serbia & Montenegro

translated by Will Firth
published by Istros Books

Istros Books is a small independent publisher focusing on translated writing from South East Europe & the Balkans. Reading about different places is the next best thing to going there, and it has been especially soul saving in the covid years of travel restrictions. This anthology is one of Istros Books more recent publications, introducing you to 17 writers. Only a few of them, such as Jelena Lengold & Olja Knežević have previously been published by Istros Books, and it was good to read more from them, like meeting up with old friends. But most of the writers were new to me, and I hope that more of their work will be translated soon.

 

As the translator Will Firth says in his introduction, there are many different styles and themes in this anthology of stories from seventeen Serbian and Montenegrin women writers. What struck me most about this collection of different writings was the unexpectedness, the singularity of each one, there was no sense of conformity to an idea of what a short story should be. Some of them are excerpts from longer works, and some are uncategorizable texts, which I particularly like because they clearly feel they do not have to conform to any style or formula.

This sense of the unexpected can come from topic or from form, as almost all the stories have a determined trajectory of their own. They will not bring you the happy ending you might desire, and not necessarily the ‘twist at the end’ either. Some of these writings are like impassioned cries or pleas; sometimes, like cleverly camouflaged exquisite little parcels of revenge, and sometimes the kind of wandering path you might expect from a river, a path not determined in advance, a path that will take you through luxurious countryside or abandoned and beaten up or partially destroyed urban sites.

We don’t often get to the seaside in these narratives, but it is present in Small Death by Katarina Mitrović which perceptively introduces a deep sense of insecurity at the start which later turns chilling, despite the hot summer temperatures. And it is remembered with nostalgia in Young Pioneers we are seaweed by Andrea Popov-Miletić. This short discursive piece of writing is an excerpt from a longer text – which I fervently hope will be translated in full – and it meanders among descriptions, commentaries, places, memories, blurring the boundaries between imagined and actual.
‘The feeling of the sea in everyday life – is there any such course, any such hypnosis? It’s not about going to the sea but rediscovering the feeling you had back then, relocating the sea in yourself and around you; it’s about your life being like at sea and in the sea.’

Zhenya – by Lena Ruth Stefanović, also part of a longer work – begins with a description of small town conventional life and becomes intriguing with the appearance of a hip urbane Muscovite, the back stories of his family, and the culture clash between him and the eponymous main character.
‘Fashion trends which in Moscow changed with the seasons, resisted time in Ignoransk; as in the past women wore cotton dresses, plain on ordinary days and with a floral pattern on holidays; ….Vilior felt he’d landed in the middle of a filmset for a historical movie. All the props were there: Stalinist architecture, women in chintz dresses, a Youth Centre and organised dances.’
The narrative then veers into the speculative realm of ideas – about literature, particular writers & whether writers will necessarily reflect traits of particular religions or nationalities in which they grew up. ‘Will Montenegro ever produce easy writers or are we doomed to big topics?’
The narrative voice is ironic, humorous, slightly mocking of itself & its culture, its surroundings, its past & most particularly, its political leaders, a mixture of venal traits & dim witted intelligence.

Two startlingly dystopian but highly atmospheric stories are Awakened by Mariana Čanak – which features an unusual, energetic and rebellious young woman. Sent to live with her aunt as her parents cannot control her, she gets her revenge on the various men who have mistreated her, from her father and brothers, to the school teacher with perverted & abusive tendencies.
Something at least by Zvonka Gazivoda
This begins as a story about a group of young people exploring a house that’s unfinished but apparently abandoned. They drink alcohol, take drugs. It becomes threatening, then nightmarish. Reality distorts into an atmosphere of utter alienation.

Trapped by Olja Knežević begins with a more domestic setting. It grabs your attention immediately with the first words ‘”I’m trapped” he complained as soon as Magda entered the apartment.’ So the scene is set for the husband who sees himself as a victim and needs his wife to be his audience. A complaining husband, a character not totally unfamiliar to some women. So the pressure builds up. Magda barricades herself against this unrelenting complaining by putting on ‘a dressing gown over comfortable pyjamas instead of a coat over a body-hugging dress and stayed in it for a year, three years then five, ten …...Her husband believes that she is therefore free, while he is trapped.’
I found myself willing something quite different to happen – the quiet unaggressive woman to turn into a warrior brandishing a sword maybe – the end is not like that but is still unexpected, with a sense of (divine) justice by a deity with a sense of humour.

Do you remember me? by Jelena Lengold. I definitely remembered this story, it lingered in my mind. Infused with a sense of ‘almost remembering’ (on the part of Tomi, the main character) it is like a current which carries you, the reader, along, like a vibrant wave. There are so many possibilities but you, the reader, sweep them aside, impatient to find out why this otherwise quite ordinary person is suffering from a bout of amnesia. Or – if he hasn’t lost his memory, has perhaps been mistaken for someone else. Who knows? We don’t, but we follow his bizarre attempts to find out, as he follows the ‘almost remembered’ woman in the street. Does she know he is following him? At this point we can only guess. ‘he was chasing an unknown woman in a direction completely opposite to the one he should have been going. Please, please go into one of the buildings and show me where you live, Tomi thought. Show me who you are and I’ll never forget you again.’ This story cleverly plays with our realities but also hints at a darkness underneath. Or is it darkness? Is it possibly the kind of acte gratuit that Gide wrote about, the gratuitous act, one made for no reason? The reader will judge that, and is unlikely to forget this story. Because of all the questions it raises, this would be a good text for discussion in a literature or creative writing class.

Morelle Smith