Andrzej Stasiuk - Fado: Reiseskizzen

Original: Fado (Polnisch, 2006)

Übersetzung: Renate Schmidgall (2008)

ZUM BUCH:
Reiseskizzen, Impressionen und Ansätze von Erklärungen des polnischen Autoren Andrzej Stasiuk: er bereist(e) ganz Mittel-/Zentraleuropa und lebt selbst im äußersten Süden Polens, nahe der slowakischen Grenze.

MEINE MERKUNG:
Das ist schon ein ganz besonderer Blick, den Stasiuk in diesen Reiseskizzen und essayhaften Momentaufnahmen auf Mitteleuropa wirft, eine Welt, die scheinbar vom Untergang bedroht ist. Schon in anderen Büchern (Winter; Galizische Geschichten) findet man eine tiefe Wehmut, und der Titel erinnert ja auch an jene schwermütige Musik Portugals. Wer Ost- und Zentraleuropa in sein Herz geschlossen hat, oder aber es kennenlernen will, wer Reiseliteratur liebt, dem seien diese kleinen Studien herzlich empfohlen.
Ich denke, dass es gerade im Sinne einer besseren gegenseitigen Verständigung zwischen den west- und osteuropäischen Staaten sehr dringend wäre, wenn man aus einer reinen Finanzdebatte etc herauskäme, und zu einem Verständnis der Eigenarten des anderen käme. Erwarten wir Westeuropäer nicht viel zu oft den Weg der anderen in unser System und unsere Schemata? Bei Stasiuk erfahren wir wohl sehr viel von dem, was Leben in Mitteleuropa ausmacht. Nicht so sehr auf finanzieller, wirtschaftlicher Ebene, sondern in der Beschreibung von Atmosphären.
Das macht er in einer sehr verständlichen, manchmal poetischen Sprache.

Die kleinen Kapitel zu verschiedenen Reisestationen oder Themen sind nochmals in kleinere Sinnabschnitte unterteilt. Gut lässt sich so dieses Buch häppchenweise kosten. Ein Lesen in einem Rutsch (wie einen Roman) fände ich da fast unangebracht.

Sehr eindringliche Empfehlung!

ZUM AUTOR:
Andrzej Stasiuk, der in Polen als wichtigster jüngerer Gegenwartsautor gilt, wurde 1960 in Warschau geboren, debütierte 1992 mit dem Erzählband "Mury Hebronu" (Die Mauer von Hebron), in dem er über seine Gewalterfahrung im Gefängnis schreibt, denn1980 wurde er zur Armee eingezogen, desertierte nach neun Monaten und verbüßte seine Strafe in Militär- und Zivilgefängnissen. 1986 zog er nach Czarne, ein Bergdorf in den Beskiden. Stasiuk schreibt seit Jahren Kritiken und Essays für die größten polnischen Tageszeitungen Gazeta Wyborcza und Rzeczpospolita, aber auch für den L'espresso und die deutschen Blätter Süddeutsche Zeitung und Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung. (Quelle und mehr Infos: http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stasiuk )

Taschenbuch: 158 Seiten
Verlag: Suhrkamp Verlag; Auflage: Originalausgabe (28. Januar 2008)
Sprache: Deutsch
ISBN-10: 3518125273
ISBN-13: 978-3518125274 ( )

Translated by Bill Johnston.

Winner of the Vilenica International Literary Prize

My final impression, closing this book, was that Andrzej Stasiuk loves people. His essay collection, Fado, demonstrates this as he examines the peoples of the former Yugoslavia and the other regions that form Central Europe. In all, he writes with obvious affection for the human condition surviving in a complicated place and time. He quietly observes people and their activities: from children playing games, the routines of the working man, the women washing their steps, and the teenagers pining for escape to the West. This is not a travel journal, told by a curious visitor. Stasiuk resides there and his impressions are that much more knowledgeable and profound.

It begins with a road trip, a car driving at night in the rain. It starts out as almost a romance with the land, and he reflects on the dark houses he passes, and how no matter what ethnic heritage a person has, they are all the same when asleep in their beds. A map is essential to reading this, as he goes to a variety of cities and recounts what he sees as well as historical details and anecdotal stories from each individual place.

Much of his writing discusses the changes from Communism to newer political states, some still in their infancy (Slovakia). The past is complicated in Central Europe, and progress is equally difficult. Of Montenegro, he writes:

“Everything that was, becomes rejected in the name of a modernity that assumes the nature of a fiction, an illusion, a devilish apparition. To a greater or lesser extent this applies to all postcommunist countries. But it’s only in Montenegro that it can all be observed within the space of ten miles.”

This battle between old traditions and new identities is a continual subject, but it remains fascinating because each town he visits handles the conflict differently. He talks about the emptiness that is felt in places, where modernization has left many without a purpose. Yet he uses almost poetic words to describe these impressions:

Of Pogradec, “Pool has taken over the town. That noble game, combining geometrical abstraction with kinetics, allows a person to forget the everyday. The men circled the tables like they were hypnotized. They moved back, moved forward, judged distances, stepped on tiptoe and held their breath as if afraid that the moving spheres would change direction and the cosmic harmony of the game would be disturbed.” It’s not difficult to see the underlying correlation with the region in finding their place in history after the divisions of Russia and Yugoslavia.

In Levoka, he observes the local police, who group together in anticipation of a rebellion by Gypsy residents. The violence never occurs, but the image of the bored policemen, playing with their police dog and throwing snowballs, reveals a truism of the place: “Brute force, tedium, and play were combined in perfect proportions, but instinct told you that any one of these three elements could take over at any moment, and for no particular reason.”

In another essay he writes about the changing of the face of paper currency throughout Russia and the Slavic states. In earlier years, the images featured working men and women in simple settings. The implied meaning being hard work garnered money. Then as years passed, the illustrations became more abstract and conceptual, until they evolved into paper faces of famous heroes. There was a political meaning behind each image, and Stasiuk shows how the meaning of money changed too. Change occurred yet again, during difficult economic times, to another theme: “the patrons of this inflationary series were of course artists and writers. In my part of the world, when times are uncertain we usually turn to culture, since it’s a domain whose failures are not so glaring…”

Stasiuk’s ability to combine history with contemporary issues is amazing because it’s so readable, never dry or boring. He doesn’t get off track trying to make a political statement or place blame, and at times it’s difficult to even guess his position in the controversial matters he discusses. He never judges the people or even presumes to suggest a solution. An especially fascinating scene was played out at the end of the day in Rasinari, when the cows, oxen, and goats returned from grazing loose into the village, all on their own.

“This daily parade was like a holiday. The whole village came out of its homes onto the road and watched the passage of the livestock. Children, old women in headscarves, men in small groups smoking cigarettes-everyone watched as the animals unerringly found their way to their own farms and stood by the gate waiting to be let in. This ritual had been repeated for centuries and everything in it was self-evident, complete, and in its own way perfect.” ( )