Hello Gentle Reader
In all honesty, Gentle Reader, there is something about family sagas that I am not all that interested in. One of the main reason and problems with the family saga for me is: what makes this family or – these families; so special? There is just something about the way they are written that appears so less interesting. Personally the family saga of writing is usually written as a form, to personalise and often give face and a more human element, to other wise, historical events and facts. A lot of family sagas always appear to fall into, clichés of some sort. Yet there are exceptions. Naguib Mahfouz’s Egyptian family saga “The Cairo Trilogy,” is one such piece of work – though arguably the first book is the best. There are countless books to the exception. But most, find themselves reading like a soap opera. Olga Tokarczuk’s novel “Primeval and Other Times,” is different. It is not by any means a family saga at first glance. Once one understands that it takes the form loosely, it shows that an age old genre can still have some new life breathed into it.
Olga Tokarczuk has often pointed out that the short story form is far more natural for her. Tokarczuk has called the reason for this to being episodic consciousness. In that sense, the world in Tokarczuk’s novel “Primeval and Other Times,” is built upon a variety of images, and individual pictures. It’s a fragmented world, all seen through the honeycomb eyes of a bee or a fly. This allows for Olga Tokarczuk to write some interesting work. In theory Tokarczuk does not; need to focus on one main character. There’s something about books, which has a multitude of characters, and a variety of perspectives. Tokarczuk has pointed out and theorized that the traditional format for the novel is artificial. It is speculated that as human beings we see the world in a multitude of perspectives. Therefore the traditional novel with its few band of characters, or one main character, is artificial. It does not remain honest to the multitude of perspectives, that human beings perceive the world. In this sense Tokarczuk writes in short vignettes – almost short stories; that appear unrelated in some fashion or another; and eventually begin to gravitate to each other, beginning to tell a larger story, in fragmented bits.
Tokarczuk is one of Poland’s most renowned contemporary authors – from the later parts of the twentieth century to the present. Her fist work published was, a collection of poems titled “Cities in Mirror,” in nineteen-eight nine. Her first foray into fiction and prose came in nineteen-thirty three with the novel “Journey of the Book People,” gained Tokarczuk popularity with reading audiences, and critical acclaim with the literary critics. From there Tokarczuk has been steadily on the rise, with her fiction. Yet her work with the novel “Primeval and Other Times,” and what has come after, has shown a steady inclination towards fragmented prose. The work has since become more patchwork. A constant use of shorter prose pieces, sketches, stories and vignette’s, all develop the novel. She has contributed a story to “The Best European Fiction 2011.” Olga Tokarczuk has also written a novel for the “Canongate Myth Series.” It is however unfortunate that Tokarczuk, has only two novels as of recently translated into English. That being said Tokarczuk, has been critically acclaimed in Europe and in her home country of Poland. She has been a recipient of numerous awards. Among those awards: Vilenica Prize being the most recent in two-thousand and thirteen; and the Nike award in two-thousand and eight for her novel “Runners.”
“Primeval and Other Times,” takes place in a fictional small town – or to be more precise; a village. This small village is unpretentiously claimed to be the center of the universe. This centre of the universe is guarded by four angels. The entire novel runs over, most of the twentieth century. From World War I to the nineteen eighties – and the loosening control of the Soviet Iron Curtain. All of the twentieth century’s historical events come and take place, and in essence come and affect the lives of the inhabitants of the people of Primeval. From Michal’s conscription into the imperial army during The Great War, to his subsequent return, sullen and shrunken into himself – devastated by the war. With his war time spoil: an elaborate and decorative coffee grinder, in which he gives to his daughter Misa; who was born in his departure. Yet there are so many characters. There is Michal’s wife Genowefa and Misa’s mother. She ran the mill win Michal was gone. There comes a slight fondness for a Jewish young man who works at the mill, by the name of Eli. That being said their relationship is never consummated, or truly explored. Yet if there was truly a main character of this novel, it is Primeval itself. The first chapter itself lays great importance to this place. It is then one begins to understand, that Primeval is more than just a small village. It is more than just a collection of cottages. Primeval, becomes a microcosm. It is a small world – an undisturbed Garden of Eden. It is a place of myths, and a place of timelessness. Characters that are not only part of history -- personal and grand; but are also timeless virtues and concepts of what and who people are. These characters are kind; they are cruel; they are arrogant; they are foolish; they are sad. Yet in the end they are all human.
Olga Tokarczuk has stated that she wanted to write a novel just like this:
“Since I can remember, I wanted to write a book like this. Develop and describe the world. This is the history of the world who, like all living things, are born, evolve and die.”
It should then come to no surprise that, volatility is a key part of this novel. Everything is changing. Nothing stays the same. Everything is moving. Sometimes the course changes, other times they move where we expect them. It comes to no surprise that the characters in this novel, over eighty years; will all eventually meet their end. Yet it is the virtue of volatility that sweeps through this novel, which pushes it forward. With concise prose, in short concrete sentences, Tokarczuk is able to present the world of Primeval in acutely physical observations. That being said, the story also has a great deal of mixture with psychological and metaphorical elements. Myth making, is a large part of Olga Tokarczuk’s work. Personal legends, and a continual sense of the unknown and mystical also play a part in this work. The drowned Man’s soul, who dubs himself “The King of the Mist,” – inability to escape the world; and therefore haunts the inhabitants of Primeval. Then there is the mad woman Florentynka, and her dogs. The way she shouts and curses the moon. There is the fearful Bad Man, who is more beast than man. There is Cornspike; a somewhat mystical woman who sleeps with the men from the tavern – but only as an equal.
I think what makes this novel so great though, is not only its structure; but also how the author (Olga Tokarczuk) seamlessly allows for the mystical and the mundane to collide. Olga Tokarczuk is also able to tackle large themes in effortless fashion. The narrative is sewn with the concepts of: god, human, nature – and the concept of fate. I think the story obviously realises that the circumstances in which the characters are placed into, are there’s to shape. Yet a great deal is still out of their control. Like the Parish Priest, whose meadows flooded every year. Despite his best efforts, to contain and stop the inevitable flood – his efforts where in vain.
“The priest was by nature impetuous and touchy about his dignity, so when he saw something of so little substance, so sluggish, so non-descript and vacuous, so elusive and cowardly taking way hos meadows, he was filled with rage.”
Yet despite the priests rage over the natural occurrence of the flood, the meadow flowers, continued their dainty and faithful prayer:
“In the priest’s meadows the flowers never stop praying. All those Saint Margaret daises and Saint Roch’s bluebells pray, and so do the common yellow dandelions. Constant prayer makes the bodies of dandelions less and less material, less and less yellow, and less and less solid, until June they change into subtle seed clocks. Then God, moved by their piety, sends warm winds that take the seed-clock souls of the dandelion up to heaven.”
It’s the prose like that, such simplicity in imagery, laced with the other worldly and divine that make this novel such a superb delight. Throughout this novel, moments of mysticism, acts of mundane transactions, the human desire to dream, and a sense of divinity, make this novel so wonderful. One begins to care about the inhabitants of Primeval. We smile when they make a fool of themselves, we ponder their philosophies – we hope for them to get back up; and we are disheartened when they die. In a sense looking into Primeval is looking into a fishbowl or an ant farm. As a reader there is a sense of omnipresence in their lives. Constantly we cast shadows over their lives – yet no matter what we hope for; no matter what we ask for; they all find themselves victims of their circumstances in one way or another.
Personally, my favourite part of this entire novel was in the beginning and the beginning of the middle portion of this novel. There is a constant feeling, of good times. The Parish Priest’s yearly war, against the white and black rivers, that floods his meadows. Squire Popielski, and this obsessive fascination with an absurd game. In the beginning there was just this feeling, of sunshine. This constant illusion of permanence; that everything has found its natural order. The water spins the wheel. The wheel in turn grinds the grains. The grains become flour. The flour is sold. Everything just appeared to run on that water wheel. The wheel became the perpetual cycle of primeval. It had the sense that everything was going to be fine. Admittedly it was a desire that everything would be fine. Yet that’s not a good story. There needs to be conflict. Everything is doomed to fall into volatility and transient movements. Nothing is stand still. Nothing is left to go stale. Everything just washes away. Everything begins to change anew. This is unfortunate because, change can come from the most disastrous chaotic events. That is why sometimes our characters escape into dreamy escapades:
“She dreamed she might find treasure under the bushes, jewels wrapped in a rag or a tin full of dollars. Later on she peeled the potatoes, she would image she was a healer, the potatoes were the sick people who had come to her, and she was removing their illness and cleaning their bodies of all foul matter. Then as she tossed the peeled potatoes into the boiling water she would imagine she was brewing an elixir of beauty, and as soon as she drank it, her life would change for once and for all. Some doctor or lawyer from Kielce would see her on the Highway, shower her with gifts and fall in love with like a princess.”
Yet the inevitabilities do happen. The twentieth century is a brutal century. It is a century filled with innovations, full of bloody wars and gruesome battles – it was a century that showed how capable human beings were of, destruction. Not only of the world, but also of each other. How systematically we adopt a new ideology. How methodically we program efficient institutions of death – and how the suffering continued for many even after the war was over, with the Soviet Union’s annexation of most of Eastern Europe. That predominately wonderful sunshine feel to the world, of this novel is gone. It’s taken away. Harder questions are asked in relation to both human nature and Gods relationship with people:
"Either God exists and has always existed or" --- here he added the second finger --- "God doesn´t exist and never has. Or else" --- the third appeared --- "God used to exist, but no longer does. And finally," --- here he poked all four fingers at Izydor --- "God doesn´t exist and has yet to appear.”
This novel is great. The beginning is full of baroque imagery. It is has that sense of wonder, and delight. It is just a truly wonder piece of work. Eventually though the tone does change, it becomes dryer. I think Tokarczuk begins to philosophise about everything a bit more, and she starts realize how much damage human beings are capable of. So in those regards, one can certainly say that Tokarczuk’s change in tone is fitting. I think the past is always more brighter and nostalgic then the present. There is something about the past, which we grasp and hold on to. Memories become our talismans to feign of our current situations and our present realities. It doesn’t leave one with a sour taste in their mouth. It is by far, more bitter sweet than anything. Yet you remember the good times, and enjoy them. Yet one begins to understand the following quote in more than just superficial ways:
“People think they live more intensely than animals, than plants and especially than things. Animals sense that they live more intensely than plants things. Plants dream that they live more intensely than things. But things last, and this lasting is more alive than anything else.”
Olga Tokarczuk had concerns that she does not write easily translatable work. I have no opinion on how difficult translating is – but her themes are translatable and they are wonderful; and the quality of this translation, shows that with diligence the work pays off. It’s a wonderful novel. One that I think that I’ll come back to.
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and Wrong.*
M. Mary
