THE SECRET OF A CERTAIN STORY
Once again a writer makes me realize how many patterns we use, how tightly we are lined with clichés inside, and how difficult it is to separate, when speaking, and even when thinking, what is ours from what is someone else’s. Darek Foks publishes a short story entitled Tajemnica Pustego Baku (The Secret of an Empty Tank) in the latest issue of “Twórczość” magazine (4/2008). This is a real treat for cinema-goers. For literature lovers as well. Brokeback Mountain1, the memorable film by Ang Lee became the basis and fuel for the author who structured a shooting script of the melodrama of the future. I used the last words very intentionally.
Structure
One can feel the creator’s work and effort in Tajemnica Pustego Baku, which does not mean the text lacks creativity, it is more about having a feeling that each word structure has been well-thought-out; even if a phrase or word expression sounds slightly absurd, the reader is convinced from the very beginning this is the way it should be. I do not know where from Darek Foks cut out the word expressions he used, but I suspect he did it the same way as for his book Co robi łączniczka? (What does a liaison officer do?). I learned from a long as a feature film interview published in a last year’s issue of “Wakat” magazine [2 (4) 2007; Synowie łączniczek – wywiad z Darkiem Foksem i Zbigniewem Liberą przeprowadzają Maria Cyranowicz, Beata Gula i Paweł Kozioł / The sons of liaison officers – an interview with Darek Foks and Zbigniew Libera conducted by Maria Cyranowicz, Beata Gula and Paweł Kozioł] that when working on his book, he methodically browsed a pile of “Wysokie Obcasy”2 that his wife collected. He read letters from female readers and cut out extracts that pleased him. Then, he “corrected” them, sometimes re-writing backwards and forwards. There lies the secret of his literary technique: he searches for the language of authentic utterances, then he stylizes it, because the language is, as he says, a mechanism and through such efforts its conventionality is shown. Tajemnica Pustego Baku is a highly conventionalized story; language patterns are also reflected in it, and the intensification of its conventionality is to draw readers’ attention to the fact that through the language we can express our thoughts, not only ready-made clichés. Here are some selected extracts:
“A strong and cold wind was blowing, no one named it as yet, though the name would come in handy for journalists.”
“Ewa stood as if shot straight in the heart, her face ashen, grimaced, eyes closed, fists clenched, finally her legs gave way and she perched herself on the ruin of a bench.”
“Ewa woke up at dawn, without trousers, with a slight hangover and Tomasz cuddled to her. Though they didn’t talk about this over breakfast, both of them knew what the remaining part of their border mission would look like. There was no room for a cold Ukrainian soup any more, for nonsensical races at dawn and shitty stories that followed great shitty stories called narrative.”
In the interview Foks gave to the editors of “Wakat”, he said: “This is the remains of history in the language. The history is ending, after all the end of history was announced a long time ago. In the book, we also confide some end of history in readers.” One does not tell stories today, today one constructs, cuts out and pastes, eavesdrops and processes heard sentences. Today one watches as well.
Shooting Script
Foks watches films, has hundreds of scenes in his head and when he writes, he creates film scenes. Obviously it would not be possible to translate them into the language of film without losing what is hidden in the literary language. Nevertheless the cinematic quality of Foks’s short story is indisputable. Firstly – because of the title that is indicative of the inspiration source, secondly – on account of the story being written out into 49 mini-chapters that constitute separate scenes and make up a well-rounded story with an introduction, action and denouement, and a method of presenting added comments before cast and credits that is known from many films: “48. Małgorzata and Patrycja attend primary school in Suwaków. 49. Janek has returned to a children’s home in Dąbrowa Górnicza.” Thirdly – he uses a method of depiction that is typical for cinema: outdoor locations, vast expanses, bonfires and sunsets; there are interiors, a seedy trailer and the title Empty Tank motel; faces in close-up, silhouettes in the distance, seemingly meaningless objects and clothing details. I project all this on my interior screen. I am going to another room and say to my family who ask what I am going to do: watch TV. I changed the TV screen for literary sessions long time ago. You cannot watch some books, they leave smudges of content, words form a thin layer of deposit, and some words are right away wound on my interior projector and projected on a virtual screen. I am trying to do so as well with Tajemnica Pustego Baku, everything seems to be okay but every now and then the film jams; I stumble over words, their clusters. The author of the shooting script reminds me: this is not a film, this is a double illusion, a labyrinth of pictures and words.
Melodrama of the future
Tajemica Pustego Baku is – like the film that inspired Foks – a love story. Ewa and Tomasz experience forbidden love. From the night when their bodies experienced pleasure, they cannot live without each other. However, they are not meant to be together – in this country, Poland of the future, heterosexual relationships are forbidden. Whoever breaks the ban, will be punished. Therefore, they go back to their previous partners: Ewa to Anna, and Tomasz to Adam. And because love stories, both film and book ones, do not develop smoothly as an ironed ribbon, the hard part begins. The story gets complicated, dangerously slips into a drama. It ends in a tragic way, as the law for sustaining the mankind prescribes.
Will we live one day in Poland where non-gay and non-lesbian relationships are stigmatized? Let’s wait and see, but for the time being, let’s read the latest issue of “Twórczość” because there are still many delectable morsels: an interpretation of the first volume of Iwaszkiewicz’s Dzienniki (Diaries) written by Henryk Bereza, poems by two Krzysztofs (Karasek and Siwczyk), short stories by Anatol Ulman and Hubert Klimko-Dobrzaniecki. Readers geared towards experiencing the world through film (picture) may stop only by Darek Foks but at least this is an absolute must.
Agnieszka Kozłowska
Translated by Kinga Witowska
Discussed journals: Twórczość