His literary debut. Adventures in Immediate Irreality. The current generation. Foreign influences on Scarred Hearts. A Romanian prize like the Prix Goncourt. The role of the writer in today’s society. Writers that should be translated into Romanian. Current projects.

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Who is M. Blecher!

This is the question the salesclerks in the Romanian literature department of one of Bucharest’s most prominent bookshops are asked every day. Despite the fact that Mr. Blecher published a poetry collection titled Transparent Body in 1934, and has contributed perceptive essays to Vremea, even though he as written a novel (Adventures in Immediate Irreality) of such rare quality that it can be justly described as the greatest literary success of 1936, the publication of his new book, Scarred Hearts, still generates questions about his identity, even from those who consider themselves to be up on Romanian literature.

Adventures in Immediate Irreality — a book that was poorly printed, poorly publicised, and with an unappealing title — was nevertheless a great critical success, of a kind we have not seen for some time in the literary world.

From the notoriously harsh critic Eugen Ionescu to the honest, highly principled Pompiliu Constantinescu, with his deep understanding of literature, everyone sang the book’s praises.

And, after many years, M. Blecher, this important figure of the new generation, praised for his “authenticity,” “experience” and “subtle understanding of life,” sends us from Roman the most lucid account of what it means to be human — the novel Scarred Hearts.

It is not the purpose here to dwell on the fact that Adventures in Immediate Irreality did not enjoy the success it deserved. But the presentation and launch of Mr. Blecher’s most recent book does deserve to be discussed.

The manuscript was handled by the experienced editor Emil Ocneanu, who immediately understood its value and decided he would spare no effort in the book’s publication and in establishing Mr. Blecher’s reputation as a writer.

The publication of his latest novel has prompted us to contact Mr. Blecher with a few questions that would interest the readers of Rampa. He replied to us from Roman, a quiet, traditional town in the north of the Moldova region, with the charm that characterises the people from his part of the country. Naturally, the first question was about his debut.

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What was your literary debut?

In the summer of 1929, while I was staying in Berck, I sent a few short pieces to the magazine Bilete de papagal. I had been abroad a long time and didn’t know that the magazine had ceased publication. And then I forgot all about my submission. But in 1930, the magazine started up again and published the pieces I had sent them. I experienced a double pleasure then: first of all, the joy of seeing my writing in print, and secondly, the knowledge that someone had liked the pieces so much that they held onto them all that time.

It seems many young writers have gotten their start in Bilete de papagal. I think Tudor Arghezi[1] has achieved something noble in encouraging so many young writers. It is rare to see an established author taking the trouble to nurture the talent of the younger generation. Mr. Arghezi’s sympathetic approach, combined with his rigorous criticism, has guided these young writers in the right direction. Personally, I am grateful for the support he has given me and I want to take this opportunity to express my admiration for everything he has done.

How did the publication of Adventures in Immediate Irreality come about?

Publication of the book was the result of my meeting Geo Bogza in Brașov in 1934, which developed into a great friendship. In my life, I have had two friendships that have had an enormous impact on me: one with Pierre Minet, whom I befriended in a sanatorium in Berck, and the other with Geo Bogza and his admirable wife, whom I also met in Brașov. At that time, I had sunk into a dreadful, overwhelming depression. I had a pile of manuscripts I didn’t know what to do with, having started Adventures a while back. I read a few pages to Geo Bogza, and he encouraged me to finish it. Without the encouragement and companionship of these two dear friends, Geo and Elisabeta Bogza, I wouldn’t have been able to write the novel. In addition to encouraging my literary aspirations, they also reawakened my lust for life, arousing new and salutary inner tensions.

Later, I moved back to Roman and finished the novel there. After that, Geo Bogza came to see me and took it back to Bucharest, where he arranged its publication. So that’s the story of Adventures.

(There have been some heated debates of late about the new generation, similar to the debates that raged on many years before about the previous generation, who are no longer in the bloom of youth. I asked Mr. Blecher, a man who has removed himself from the bustle of modern life, to share his opinion on the new generation.)

What do you think about the “new generation”?

I detest such vague terms and overgeneralisations. I’ve always considered boundaries between generations and literary groups to be a somewhat artificial construct. I do believe, however, in a zeitgeist of this particular age, as it has its own unique spiritual preoccupations and intentions. This is because the challenges facing people today are particularly tough and require more radical solutions.

If I may borrow the phrase of a French writer, I would say that the restlessness of today’s youth is characterized by the disproportionate growth of “literary aggression.”

(I asked Mr. Blecher about what influence foreign writers such as Kessel, Mann et al. have had on his latest novel.)

Did any of these foreign writers influence Scarred Hearts?

I’m not sure. We pour everything we have seen, read and lived into our writing. I would say that the events in Scarred Hearts are more closely related to my life experiences than to other books. I was dealing with material that was presented to me in such a compact, overwhelming form that it would have been difficult to squeeze any literary influences into the narrative.

In Romania, our only literary prizes are awarded by the Union of Romanian Writers and by the publishing house National Culture. Ideally, we would also have something akin to the Goncourt Prize, which would be awarded by the Association of Romanian Publishers. If such a prize were to exist, who do you think should win it?

You’re putting me on the spot here. Please accept my apologies, but I have no answer.

What is the role of the writer in our current age?

The writer should climb down from the “ivory tower” and join the “forum.” The point of view of intellectuals should be easily grasped by anyone who is interested in their work, as their purpose is to shed light on important issues and guide the masses who are interested in the opinions of today’s intellectual.

At the moment I’m feeling rather sceptical about the “general” importance of literature. Does a writer have any real influence? I doubt it, and I can’t think of many examples in history when society was changed by novels or writers’ opinions. But possibly things are different now, perhaps people are reading more and making use of the knowledge they’ve gained. If this is the case, then of course, a writer who is aware of what is going on in the world should try to bring about social change by making an ideological contribution. However, this contribution must be in keeping with their integrity as a writer, their skills employed to promote justice and spiritual freedom. It is rather sad that these days some writers only climb down from their “ivory tower” to bring venom and blind political passions to the table, their voices only adding confusion, abstruse ideas and intolerance to the general debate — rather than taking on the conciliatory role we might expect from them. Yes, it’s rather sad that these “intellectuals” fuel virulence and violence at a time when it’s in such abundance already.

Our country’s literature is not being translated into universal languages because some argue that it has nothing to offer to the foreign reader. Which Romanian writers ought to be translated into other languages?

First of all Rebreanu, then some novels by Sadoveanu and Mircea Eliade, as well as some interesting essays and works by Tudor Vianu and C. Noica.[2] But there are many other interesting books that ought to be translated. Any new projects? At the moment I’m working on a novel set partly in a small provincial town as well as in Switzerland.[3] I can’t tell you much more about it because that’s pretty much all I know right now.

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While living in Roman, Mr. Blecher is writing a book that echoes this passage from Scarred Hearts:

A book is a nothing, it’s not even an object. It’s something dead … that contains living things, like a putrefying body swarming with thousands and thousands of insects.

And in this new work — like any other of Mr. Blecher’s books — the future reader will find that the following lines from Scarred Hearts still ring true:

The book contained all the boredom, sadness, dreams and frenzy that could be found in the most fantastical, disturbingly beautiful poetry. In vain did he search his memory for another book that he could compare it to, this novel was unlike any verse or line of literature he had ever encountered before. It contained a venom that slowly, slowly dripped in his blood as he read it, making him feel lightheaded and feverish, as if a cunning, aggressive virus had invaded his body.

(1937)

[1] The pseudonym of Ion N. Theodorescu (1880-1967), born in Bucharest, editor of Facla before taking charge of Bilete de papagal.

[2] Liviu Rebreanu (1885-1944), novelist, playwright, journalist, considered the founder of the modern Romanian novel post-WWI; Mihail Sadoveanu (1880-1961), journalist, novelist, politician; Tudor Vianu (1898-1964), literary and art critic, poet, philosopher, translator; Constantin Noica (1909-87), poet, essayist, philosopher exploring the crisis of modern culture.

[3] Cf. The Illuminated Burrow, which was published posthumously.

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The Transparent Body & Other Texts is available soon from Twisted Spoon Press. You can order a copy here.

Max Blecher was born in Botoşani, Romania, on September 8, 1909, into a middle-class Jewish family. He spent his childhood and adolescence in Roman, and upon graduating high school left for Paris to study medicine, but soon became ill and was diagnosed with spinal tuberculosis. After spending six years in various sanatoria, he returned to Roman where, confined to bed, he began to translate and to write. His only collection of poetry, Transparent Body, was published in 1934, followed by the “novels” Adventures in Immediate Irreality (1936) and Scarred Hearts (1937). His final prose work, The Illuminated Burrow, was published posthumously, first in an abridged edition in 1947, and then in full in 1971. He died on May 31, 1938.

Gabi Reigh was born in Romania and moved at the age of twelve to the UK, where she teaches English and translates. As part of her Interbellum Series she has translated a variety of work by Lucian Blaga, Liviu Rebreanu, Max Blecher, and Mihail Sebastian. A recipient of the Stephen Spender Prize in 2017, her anthology of women’s writing from the early 20th century, Virginia’s Sisters, was published in 2023.