The Iow Review Volume 24 Issue 1 Winter Article 30 1994 Hnsi Szokoll Robert Wexelbltt Follow this nd dditionl works t: http://ir.uiow.edu/iowreview Prt of the Cretive Writing Commons Recommended Cittion Wexelbltt, Robert. "Hnsi Szokoll." The Iow Review 24.1 (1994): 135-147. Web. Avilble t: https://doi.org/10.17077/0021-065x.4724 This Contents is brought to you for free nd open ccess by Iow Reserch Online. It hs been ccepted for inclusion in The Iow Review by n uthorized dministrtor of Iow Reserch Online. For more informtion, plese contct lib-ir@uiow.edu.
Hnsi Szokoll Robert Wexelbltt IT WAS A BRIGHT TUESDAY MORNING in the spring of 1962. Dr. Zublink hd no clsses on Tuesdys nd, though it ws only eight o'clock, he lredy st t his desk by the window overlooking the river with its broque bridge nd the erly trffic on the quyside lined with dusty lindens. Old Bestiry ws so Bridge clled owing to its five pirs of chimericl sttues, one pir every six feet: bsilisks, unicorns, sphinxes, centurs, nd griffins. Zublink ws terrificlly plesed with his distinguished new ddress t the House of the Two Queens. Number Six ws suite of three lrge rooms plus kitchen, ll with twelve-foot ceilings nd plster cornices. A fnciful story ws told in the neighborhood bout the two disguised queens who hd given the building its nme by meeting there under drmtic circum stnces in the middle of the eighteenth century. Zublink thought it more probble tht the nme derived from the double curved gbles tht projected from the fourth floor. They looked like pir of omegs. Zublink hd moved in on Sturdy nd spent ll of Sundy setting the plce up to suit his tste. As he hd to be t the University until lte on Mondy, this ws his first opportunity to pprecite his new lir. The lst tennt hd been friend of his, the historin Weiler, n expert on the Reformtion. Tht winter, fter bitter fight with the University Rector, Weiler hd been officilly retired. He nd his wife continued living in the city for severl months, but both of them hd become disgusted with their suddenly empty life nd yerned to move bck to Weiler's ntive town where their only ws dughter living with her husbnd, n gronomist. When the son-in-lw some pulled strings nd found them smll vill, the Weilers deprted, but not before rrnging tht Zublink should get first crck t their prtment. "This plce is hovel, rel hell-hole, nd the neighborhood's beneth you," Weiler hd rudely declred on his first visit to Zublink's old digs. As the dy ws wrm, Zublink threw open his window letting in the crckle of trm, the bouncing of wooden crts, nd ll the noises mde by people who re wlking purposively to work. The room fced southest nd morning light flooded in s well. The greenish yellow hills cross the 135 University of Iow is collborting with JSTOR to digitize, preserve, nd extend ccess to The Iow Review www.jstor.org
river into which the pre-wr vills snuggled invisibly were mrred sh-colored prtment blocks of socilist suburbi. by the Before going to bed the previous night Zublink hd recorded the seed of n ide for new story nd he ws looking forwrd to whole dy of trying to mke it grow. This would be the first test of the productive qulities of his new environment. Zublink unscrewed his fountin pen s knight unshethes his sword nd set to work by exmining the scrwled frgments of the night before. There hd been two voices, mn's nd womn's, nd some musing event involving child nd lrge niml (he hd written "dog? tiger? elephnt?"). The point of view ws to hve been the child's, little girl t once innocent nd curious. "Should perhps be set t zoo or in city prk," red the finl sentence. Despite the unimpechble working conditions, the fine wether, the encourgement of the bustling quyside nd the inspirtion of the river, Zublink mde hrdly ny progress. The ide begn to disintegrte into rndom words, bits of dilogue, few surrel imges. He ws feeling decidedly irritble when, t ten-thirty, messenger rrived from the offices of The New Hyperion. The editor of this ws journl nmed Krmmel, n energetic, mbitious, premturely bld intellectul. Everyone liked Krmmel; he insisted upon it. His mbitiousness ws so ingenuous tht it ws ctully prt of his chrm. He hd so much of it tht there ws redy supply to bestow on ny person to whom he to hppened be speking. This one would surely hve gret creer, tht one ws certin to be promoted, while n ws ppointment lredy in the works for third. Krmmel nmes s dropped he must once hve his hir, in gret clumps. He ws quick-witted nd pprently well connected too. There were nturlly difficulties from time to time with the uthorities, but he lwys cme out of these scrpes with his hide unscthed nd witticism on his lips. The on only subject which he ws discreet ws politics. He hd succeeded in mking himself into sort of culturl entrepreneur, the only one in the city if one did not count Krl Borotov. Even the uthorities often clled on him to rrnge exhibitions, tours, nd redings, prticulrly for visiting luminries with whom he got on excep tionlly well. Zublink met Krmmel t the Cf? Mgus shortly fter the ltter took on the editorship of the Hyperion, nd they hd hit it off. Krmmel sked if Zublink, whom he lredy knew by reputtion, hd nything of populr 136
nture, something suitble for journl like his. After some misgivings, Zublink submitted the first story by Hnsi Szokoll. Hnsi ws one of Zublink's erliest pseudonymous uthors, the Old World ncestor of Elvir Bennet. He imgined Hnsi s being bout his own ge; tht is, in her lte thirties. Well educted, she hd job s n rchivist nd wrote unconventionl stories, mostly bout women. It is not surprising tht Zublink conceived Hnsi Szokoll s possessing mny of the ttributes of Mrin nd Jlen. For exmple, she hd the former's perspiccity nd wit without her neuroses, nd the ltter's sensitivity nd hert, but without Jlen's embrrssing penchnt for sentimentlity. Krmmel hd been plesed by the story nd described it s gleefully " little senstionl." He ws likewise mused by Zublink's use of pseud onym. "It's hrdly uncommon," he sid, "but tht's generlly for politicl resons." Krmmel did not fully understnd Zublink's use of pseud onyms. He might hve grsped the semi-independent nture of Hnsi Szokoll's existence, but he did not inquire bout it, nd Zublink sw no reson to force on complicted explntion him. It ws enough for him tht Krmmel undertook to keep things to himself?"unless it comes to physicl torture," he dded with chuckle. Hnsi Szokoll ws duly listed mong the contributors to The New s Hyperion thirty-eight-yer-old rchivist living in the cpitl. The messenger, plump young womn whom Zublink hd seen t typewriter during his one visit to Krmmel's office, ws perspiring profusely nd out of breth from climbing up the two flights of stirs. Hd she not been enmored of Krmmel, for whom she would do nything, she might well hve been ngrier with Zublink. "Plese sit down," he sid. She flopped into chir nd spoke in hrried, brethless whine. "First I went to the University, of course, becuse s you cn see tht's the ddress on the envelope. They told me you wouldn't be in ll dy nd sent me to your old ddress nd tht's where I found out you'd moved. Heven only knows where the Chief thinks I've gotten to." "You cll him Chief?" The womn blushed. "Of course," she sid. Zublink offered her cup of te. "Couldn't think of it," she exclimed, lredy bck on her feet. "The 137
Chief sid not to wit for n nswer. I've got to get bck no ide how much there is to be done!" right wy. You've Zublink wited to be sure tht she mde it down the stirs sfely before opening the envelope. It contined scribbled note from Krmmel nd letter tht ws specimen of such exemplry hndwriting it reminded Zublink of his grmmr school techer, the punctilious though rther hrd-of-hering Mrs. Sturmzi. In his short note Krmmel sid tht the enclosed letter hd been received by the Hyperion but obviously belonged to Zublink, who ws free to do whtever he liked bout it. To Zublink, Krmmel's unccustomed brevity expressed musement. The letter itself ws ddressed to Hnsi Szokoll in cre of The New Hyperion; but the strnge thing ws tht it ws lso signed by Hnsi Szokoll?Hnsi Szokoll Bumfeld, to be precise. The short story tht occsioned Mrs. Bumfeld's letter owed its existence to Zublink's hbit of solitry on bicycling weekends. The exercise did him good, but he lso ccomplished gret del of thinking while lboring up nd down the country rods outside the city. On one such ride the previous October he hd been run nerly down by smll utomobile driven by womn. Zublink ws ble to sty upright nd the womn did not stop to see if she hd killed him. He hd glimpse of her profile, which struck him s both determined nd distrcted, in the wful distended moment when she ws brest of him, mtter of mere inches from his left pedl. As he continued his ride Zublink begn to embroider nd imgine, especilly bout the womn, nd by the time he rrived home he hd formulted the outline of "The Accident." The story is presented from the point of view of Fried, womn who is mrried but not with perfect stisfction. As the story opens she is rguing with her husbnd, prosperous rilwy officil. They hve gone to spend weekend t their country house, to which the husbnd hs invited young collegue nd his ttrctive wife. Fried hlf ironiclly ccuses her husbnd of flirting with the young womn. Ignoring her irony, the husbnd tkes umbrge. He retorts with complints of his own, not only bout Fried's possessiveness nd costly tstes, but lso more tellingly?becuse Fried is ctully not t ll possessive nd not prticulrly extrvgnt? bout the wy she spoils their four-yer-old son. One word leds to nother. Fried rushes out of the house nd, without ny cler intention, tkes the cr. 138
As she creens down nrrow country rod, furious t her husbnd nd cursing her mrrige, Fried sideswipes lone cyclist. The mn, bnk employee in his erly thirties, is knocked off his* bike nd tumbles into ditch. Fried on jms the brkes, horrified by wht she hs done. At first the cyclist is unble to respond to her frntic questions becuse the breth hs been knocked out of him in his fll. Fried is in pnic nd runs down into the ditch. But the soon recovers cyclist nd is quite chrming bout everything. He hs received some firly serious brsions on his Jeg, but seems otherwise uninjured. His on bicycle, the other hnd, hs been twisted like pretzel. Fried insists tht he get into her cr nd llow her to drive him to clinic, or t lest to his home in the city. She herself lifts the bike into the bck set. In the cr, the cyclist continues to be gllnt nd, s they tlk, Fried is overcome by n unprecedented nd lrming impulse. The mn confesses to feeling little dizzy from delyed shock, nd Fried pulls up t n inn. Her only moment of hesittion comes s she is confronted with the registrtion book nd pen?n old-fshioned one tht hs to be dipped into n inkwell?but she msters herself nd signs them in under the nmes of her house guests. They do not bother with the dinner offered by the innkeeper but go stright up to their room, which is spcious nd fetures lrge fether bed. Fried begs the mn not to tell her his nme nd he redily grees. She then sks him to undress nd tenderly bthes his wounds. The following morning, Fried drives the mn, who hs enough not to understnding sk to see her or even gin her nme, bck into the city nd then returns to her country house where she rrives just fter lunch. She is wildly hppy to see her little boy nd embrces him so excessively tht he begins to cry. The guests hve deprted. Her husbnd comes into the room living looking wretched just s the child bursts into ters. He too is moved. His fce expresses worry nd contrition. "Fried," he begins, but she interrupts him. "Don't worry, der. Everything's ll right now." Zublink's originl ide hd mounted to little more thn n erotic fntsy bout the womn with the intent profile who hd nerly run him down. However, when he begn to consider the story s Hnsi would conceive it, its theme chnged, nd so did the nture of the fntsy. No doubt only the perverse goblin of contrdiction could be behind the notion of mrrige rescued by infidelity. 139
Zublink relized two things t once bout Mrs. Bumfeld's letter. First, he sw tht he hd ssumed certin responsibility due to his choice of pseudonym which, innocent in itself, hd unplesnt consequences for rel womn; second, tht this womn's letter ws itself text of some complexity. Der Miss Szokoll: I hrdly know why I m writing this letter. Let me begin by simply telling you wht hs hppened to me since the publiction of your story "The Accident." For better or worse, collegue of my husbnd's is subscriber to The New Hyperion. Upon reding your story, he gve the issue to my husbnd. With your imgintive bilities you will be ble to picture how my husbnd's suspicions could be roused by such story signed with his wife's own nme. He hs ccused me of being its uthor nd hs ll but suggested I took its plot from personl experience. Wht is s nerly distressing is tht locl officil hs been to visit me privtely. Perhps he did so t the suggestion of my husbnd, I don't know. This officil hs discreetly put it to me tht my story could be seen s conveying veiled subversive messge, tht people might interpret it s suggesting seduction by non-officil sources of power (the cyclist, presumbly) could be liberting. In short, he sid tht the story ppered counter revolutionry s well s being morlly repugnnt. I believe he clled it " piece of bourgeois self-indulgence." He wished me to know tht, while no ction would be tken ginst me t the present time, I should be creful in the future. As I sid, it is possible he ws put up to this by my husbnd, who is himself government officil nd could esily hve rrnged such chrde. Of course I vehemently denied writing the story, but I do not feel ssured tht my husbnd believes me, or the officil either. To be fir, not every consequence of our common nme hs been so dire. Copies of the story hve circulted mong mny women I know nd, like my husbnd, severl hve ssumed me 140
to be its uthor. Most merely lugh t my denils. You will be grtified, I suspect, to lern tht they ll loved "The Accident." They understnd it becuse, evidently, you hve understood them. I hve been congrtulted by mny of these women who lbor under the sme s misunderstnding my husbnd. I do not know exctly wht it is I wnt of you, but frnkly writing this letter hs been relief to me. Despite the trouble it hs cused me, I too liked your story very much nd, perhps owing to the coincidence of our nmes, feel n ffinity for its true uthor. we re even Perhps relted. Sincerely yours, Hnsi Szokoll Bumfeld (Mrs.) Zublink did not hve only single response to this letter, nor during the following dys did his feelings bout it develop logiclly or progressively, s from musement to hysteri, sy, or curiosity to obsession. As erly s Tuesdy evening he wondered whether the letter might be prcticl joke of Krmmel's. On Wednesdy fternoon he felt oppressed by sense of hving done serious wrong to nother humn being?quite decent one too, judging by her diction nd hndwriting. On Thursdy night he ws defending himself with the reflection tht Mrs. Bumfeld's reltions to her spouse hd to hve been strined well before he red "The Accident." He lso wondered just how high n officil Mr. Bumfeld might be nd in wht ministry, since he ws cpble of issuing orders to orgns of the secret police. Quite nturlly, Zublink ws nxious bout whether he hd nything to fer from the willfully bsurd hermeneutics of Stte Security. When he rn into Krmmel t concert on Fridy night Zublink wtched him closely for the tiniest smirk or telltle llusion, but there ws nothing of the sort. Krmmel jovilly chided Zublink for giving his secretry the run-round then begged for the nme of nyone who could produce strightforwrd essy on Structurlism in three thousnd words or less. It ws on Sturdy morning tht Zublink, more out of idleness thn delibertion, finlly decided to drft reply to Hnsi Bumfeld's letter. This decision necessitted few others. Should he respond s Zublink or Hnsi Szokoll? Should he compose the sort of letter the womn could 141
triumphntly present to her husbnd or more something intimte? He pulled out Mrs. Bumfeld's letter nd exmined it once gin. Just s he did on his first reding, he felt tht there ws something in it tht clled for more thn mtter-of-fct reply, should there be one. Nothing simpler thn for her to hve n requested exculptory document, duly notrized, if tht ws wht she relly wnted. Her letter certinly mde no secret of her distress, but its conclusion suggested something quite different, nmely the ffinity Mrs. Bumfeld felt for the uthor of "The Accident." "Well, in for penny, in for pound," thought Zublink nd resolved to nswer s Hnsi who ws nd lwys would be the true uthor of the story. The reply he drfted ws pologetic nd circumspect, but he lso tried to convey certin solidrity with Mrs. Bumfeld. It my be true tht we re relted, s you suggest, though more by temperment thn by blood, I think. Zublink hd some fun with the notion tht "The Accident" could be " piece of bourgeois self-indulgence" or cse of politicl encryption. But there is nother kind of politics, not, I would sy, redily recognized by mle police officils, nd possibly my story is guilty of touching on few of its issues. He closed by thnking Mrs. Bumfeld for her letter, which he?or rther Hnsi Szokoll?chose to tke s n encourgement to continue writing. He would hve enjoyed dding some well chosen words bout her husbnd nd few more in prise of her hndwriting, but checked himself. Zublink typed up the letter nd copied the return ddress from Mrs. Bumfeld's onto envelope his own. The whole process ws nerly effort less; but, like Fried, he hd moment's hesittion over signing n lis. It mde him feel quesy. A week fter posting this letter, Zublink found in his mil slot t the University messge informing him tht the editor of The New Hyperion hd clled to sy tht he hd received nother letter for him, but could hrdly be expected to spre his secretry this time. The cll hd been tken by the chirmn of Zublink's deprtment; for it ws one of his perquisites tht he hd the only office fitted with telephone. Of course, the poor fellow lothed them. 142
Zublink stopped by the office of the Hyperion on the wy home. Though Krmmel himself ws not there, his secretry, more frzzled thn ever, ws. It took her five full minutes of hectic serching to locte Zublink's letter in the welter of pper top her chiefs desk nd three bookcses. This time the letter ws quite brief. Hnsi Bumfeld sked for meeting or, more precisely, nnounced one. I will be in the lounge t Est Sttion t one o'clock next Tuesdy. I m very hopeful of meeting you there. If this should be impossible, plese do not disturb yourself. I shll be wering white dress nd brod-brimmed ht. The note ws signed, "Very much yours, the other Hnsi Szokoll." Zublink did not fil to tke note of the bsence of Hnsi's mrried nme. So mny incidents in life re due to timing. Hd the dy ppointed not been Tuesdy, Zublink would probbly not hve shown up. Even s it ws, he hd no shortge of misgivings nd three full dys to mull them over. Would it ll turn out joke, with either some middle-ged housewife or Krmmel holding their sides? Would he be disbelieved by one Hnsi on the lookout for nother? Could it be sid he ws cting out of ny respectble motive t ll if he showed up, or filed to do so? Hd he only compounded his n originl imposture, unintentionl crime, by nswering Mrs. Bumfeld's letter, encourging who knows wht or sympthies indigntion? Nevertheless, he went on Tuesdy. He even dressed up for the occsion to the extent of putting on his one blue suit?the lecture suit, s he clled it. An Aristotelin observer of the sitution would point out tht Zublink's hving no clsses on Tuesdys might be the necessry condition, but ws not sufficient in itself to get him to Est Sttion t one o'clock in his lecture suit. In fct, by tht morning he lso hd ethicl nd esthetic motives. Ethiclly, Zublink felt bound to revel himself, not in generl, but to Hnsi Bumfeld, s she ws the only person whom his concelment could be sid to hve injured nd the sole individul to whom it might ctully mtter. To revel himself to her would lso be to tke his punishment which, in her cse, he hd surely merited. The invention of Hnsi Szokoll ws n esthetic concelment through nd through, nd ethiclly it could 143
not be justified. Now he would py the piper. But here too the spirit of contrdiction held swy; for Zublink, even while mking mends for his esthetic concelment, would lso be n stisfying esthetic interest; tht is, his curiosity bout the ldy with the coincidentl nme nd the perfect hndwriting. Whose motives re unmixed? Est Sttion ws the lest used of the city's three terminls. It ws not busy t one plce o'clock on ny weekdy, though becuse Tuesdy turned out to be riny, hndful of porters nd proprietors of pushcrts who would normlly be out on the street on spring dy hd tken refuge inside. Even so, the sttion ws strngely quiet. It hd the look of temple lredy bndoned nd bout to fll into ruins. Scores of blck flies, lso not eger to be rined on, flitted imlessly bout the dim nd cvernous witing room. Zublink took off his rincot nd ht s soon s he cme through hevy outer door, ignoring the hlf-herted gestures of couple of porters. The big rilwy clock ner the ceiling indicted one o'clock precisely. Zublink used to sy tht in his cse ws more punctulity vice thn virtue. He heded stright for the glssed-in resturnt tht took up hlf of one side of the terminl, supposing it must be wht Mrs. Bumfeld hd ment by the lounge. He hlf expected to see Krmmel nd his doring secretry curled up in booth, witing to greet him with mockery nd bottle of domestic chmpgne. Zublink did not go into the resturnt. It ws unnecessry, s he could see without so doing tht mong the few ptrons ws no Krmmel, but lso no ldy dressed in ny shde of white or wering ht with brim of ny pprecible bredth. Puzzled, he decided his best course would be to wit five minutes or so nd, to void committing himself nd hving to cope with witer, to sit out in the witing room rther thn the resturnt. He bought newspper nd took set on bench commnding cler view. At five pst the hour bored voice crckled through the loudspeker nnouncing the rrivl of the twelve fifty-five from Kitternitz. Zublink soon herd the noise of the trin nd fixed his eye on the rch seprting the re witing from the trcks. About dozen pssengers strggled in. Among the very first, looking frustrted nd ws wlking rpidly, womn of bout thirty-five in long white dress nd the sort of ht he hd the 144
imgined ws worn only on the C?te d'azur. She ws not in the lest overweight. Zublink ws mused to see tht the womn stopped just outside the resturnt nd looked over the customers, just s he hd. He sighed, lid down his newspper, nd got on his feet. As he pprofched her, she looked up t the clock. "Mrs. Bumfeld?" Zublink hd more thn once observed tht certin women, prticulrly those who becuse of their clothes, mke-up, nd good looks would normlly be intimidting, pper to their best dvntge when surprised. Perhps this ws becuse Zublink ws gllnt enough to be mde tender by ny vision of feminine vulnerbility or becuse of the subtrction of his own timidity. Whtever the reson, Mrs. Bumfeld struck him in tht instnt when her neck ws still stretched upwrd but her fce hd bent towrd him with wide eyes s hndsome womn. She did not sy word; her surprise seemed to turn into something like fright. For second Zublink considered pretending tht he hd been sent by Hnsi Szokoll to pologize for her inbility to keep the ppointment nd thereby put n end to the wkwrd sitution on the spot. "It's you?" Her voice ws rther deep. "I'm frid so. Yes." It is difficult to sy how much of wht hppened next my hve influenced subsequent events. Mrs. Bumfeld took step bckwrds, stggered, nd Zublink, dropping his rincot nd ht, cught her by the elbow. He relesed her t once nd bent down. "But why?" she sked, s Zublink rose from retrieving his cot nd ht. "Why did I choose your nme? I hope you will believe me when I sy tht I did not choose your nme. It ws," Zublink over pused his unintended nd misplced pun, n "purely ccident." She blushed nd shook her hed. "No. Why did you sign your letter tht wy? Zublink looked penitently in the direction of his shoes. "Perhps tht ws mistke." He looked up nd smiled. "But it ws to Hnsi you wrote." The womn frowned. "Sophistry. "But the uthor is Hnsi." She rised n eyebrow. "Then??" I wrote to the uthor of the story." 145
"Well, nd I suppose I m the uthor s well. I held the pen. Wht cn I sy? I m here to pologize to you in person. To try to explin. Are you t ll hungry?" As Mrs. Bumfeld did dmit to n ppetite, Zublink, relieved to hve chnged the subject the terminl. so esily, suggested resturnt with better fre thn "But it's rining." "I know firly good plce hrdly block wy." With quick glnce round the lmost empty sttion, Mrs. Bumfeld greed. Over schnitzel nd beer Zublink exerted himself to explin his reltion to Hnsi Szokoll. Mrs. Bumfeld listened to him with the sme wide-eyed look he hd dmired t the sttion. To his surprise, she did not pose single question, though one or two might hve helped. "Are you done?" she sked when he hd exhusted himself. "Yes." "It's stonishing, relly; thought mn?" "But why not?" "I felt for Fried." the story is so much womn's. I wouldn't hve Zublink could not help smiling. His uthoril notwithstnding ll he hd just sid bout who ws Accident." vnity ws grtified, the true uthor of "The Once gin, Mrs. Bumfeld looked bout nervously. "But surely you re hppier in your mrrige thn Fried?" "Tht's just it," she sid with sudden pssion. Her eyes, still wide, grew bright. "I believed I ws." "But the story is bout how mrrige is sved." She lughed but, despite her retort, not t ll bitterly. On the contrry, she seemed to hve suddenly become light-herted. "So tht's wht you think it mens? There you show yourself to be mn fter ll. Perhps I understnd Hnsi better thn you do!" Zublink ws bout to reply when she lened towrd him nd whispered, "You hven't told me your nme. No, plese don't." He ws dumb founded. She hd put her hnd on his. 146
The hotel Zublink chose ws not so romntic s country inn; he lcked ny visible brsions, nd they did not sty the night but only few hours. Nevertheless, fter n refusing erly supper, Mrs. Bumfeld borded the evening trin for Kitternitz nd, keeping her thoughts to herself, returned to her fmily. 147