Shaun Sunkara
There are two opposing ideas concerning a person’s fate or destiny. One is that humans have complete control of their own destinies and that there is no such thing as an irreversible fate. The other is that everything happens as a result of a destiny established before an individual is ever born. In his lecture, Existentialism is a Humanism, Jean-Paul Sartre showcases an existentialist view of human destiny: “If, however, it is true that existence is prior to essence, man is responsible for what he is. Thus, the first effect of existentialism is that it puts every man in possession of himself as he is and places the entire responsibility for his existence squarely upon his own shoulders” (4). While some may share Sartre’s existentialist view, several European authors contend that people are unable to control their own destinies. Czechoslovakian Milan Kundera, Yugoslavian Ivo Andrić, and Russian Vladimir Makanin have all authored stories of people living out their lives within a cycle of inescapable fate. Despite their differing geographical origins, these authors from the Balkans, Central Europe, and Eastern Europe each have written works about cultural identity and the inevitable fate of their region’s people.
Czech writer Milan Kundera has long written about connections found amongst culture, identity, and fate. In his essay “The Tragedy of Central Europe,” Milan Kundera writes: “The identity of a people and of a civilization is reflected and concentrated in what has been created by the mind–in what is known as ‘culture.’ If this identity is threatened with extinction, cultural life grows correspondingly more intense, more important, until culture itself becomes the living value around which all people rally” (33). Kundera’s proposal of culture being such an important value may be attributed to his political beliefs; in his essay, he is critical of Communist Russia and its attempts to assimilate Central Europe into the East. He points out how our relationships with others and the locations we are accustomed to shape our unique identities. In addition, we draw upon our past memories and relationships to create our sense of self.
This would not be the last time that Kundera writes on the subject of cultural and personal identity and the idea of the self. In his novel Identity, the audience follows a young, French couple who appear to be in love and, later, who begin to question one another’s identities. At the beginning of the novel, the two main characters, Chantal and Jean-Marc, both define themselves through their relationship, but by the end of the novel, Chantal and Jean-Marc’s relationship is not as durable as it initially appears.
There is a fascinating distortion of time and space throughout the plot of Identity; while there is a sense of events happening in chronological order, not many concrete dates are provided in each scene. Near the end of the book, in Chapter 50, we see Chantal and Jean-Marc wake up as though from a dream. The reader is not sure when the dream began, and Kundera does nothing to clarify the separation of dreams from reality. “And I ask myself: who was dreaming? Who dreamed this story? Who imagined it? She? He? Both of them? Each one for the other? And starting when did their real life change into this treacherous fantasy?” (167). Kundera shows us how the couple starts to lose their sense of identity as soon as they are put into an unfamiliar place, in this instance, a foreign country. Shortly after a tumultuous argument, Chantal and Jean-Marc end up leaving the comfort of their native France for the debauched city of London. First, Chantal departs on her own, and Jean-Marc follows her. While on the train with her coworkers, who also travel to London, Chantal wears her supposedly unnatural mask of the working, acquiescent Chantal. Eventually arriving in London and not knowing what to do, she ends up looking to participate in an orgy. Jean-Marc also undergoes a notable transformation from being a confident, intelligent man to a hysterical bum growing wild in his search for Chantal in England. Reflecting Kundera’s view that Central Europe is experiencing a cultural identity crisis, Identity displays his connection of a change in identity to a change in one’s surroundings: “At what exact moment did the real turn into the unreal, reality into reverie? Where was the border? Where is the border?” (167). This quote at the end of pivotal Chapter 50 not only can apply to Chantal and Jean-Marc’s dream, but also to all of Central Europe during Kundera’s lifetime, as borders were constantly being changed, new countries formed, old countries broken up, and entire cultures either being lost or blended with others. This passage is echoed in “The Tragedy of Central Europe”:
Or, to put it another way: does Central Europe constitute a true cultural configuration with its own history? And if such a configuration exists, can it be defined geographically? What are its borders? It would be senseless to try to draw its borders exactly. Central Europe is not a state: it is a culture or a fate. Its borders are imaginary and must be drawn and redrawn with each new historical situation. (35)
Here, we see Kundera again asking his readers about borders, as he does at the end of Identity. We can draw parallels to his work and Kundera’s concern for on the lost culture of Central Europe, how entire countries of people can lose their identities following events which are out of their control.
These events in Central Europe during the Cold War, spurred by Russian imperialism, can be compared to the history of the Balkans region and its occupation by the Ottoman Empire. There are similar sentiments on identity and fate written by authors from these regions who were raised during times of turmoil. Ivo Andrić is another European writer who has written works related to fate and cycles of destiny. Andrić’s novella, Anika’s Times, concerns a young woman who plunges her village into chaos when she becomes a prostitute. This novel is filled with characters unable to escape the shadows of the past because they find themselves repeating their own actions or the actions of their familial predecessors. As a historian and author, Andrić draws on the history of the Balkans and its cycle of warfare when creating parallels between the destinies of his suffering characters and the struggles of people living in the Balkan region (Todorovich). In Anika’s Times, Andrić depicts his characters as being trapped in predetermined, self-repeating cycles. These depictions echo the ideas of human destiny he formulated throughout his experiences as a survivor of multiple wars and as a historian of Yugoslavia.
In his works, Andrić connects the concept of destiny with the family. There are multiple instances of family ancestry being the determinant in the characters’ cyclical fates in Anika’s Time. Male characters in the story are traditionally expected to carry on their family’s lines of work. Anika’s brother, Lale, is trained since birth at the family bakery (376) and, despite his feeble-mindedness, is expected to take over the business following his father’s death: “That same winter Marinko died. His son, Lale, took over his father’s business and continued working. Although young and feeble-minded, he proved himself a good baker and kept his father’s customers” (379). Females of this era, such as Anika, were expected to be married off as soon as they were of suitable age: “And the more curious and mysterious she became, the more the kasaba talked about finding a husband for her” (380).
Then there is the Porubović family bloodline, whose male members were traditionally anointed the priests of the neighboring town of Dobrune. In addition to following in their father’s footsteps in the priesthood, there is a history of shooting violence from the male members of the family. Anika’s Time begins chronologically three generations after Anika’s time, with one of these family members, the priest Father Vujadin, losing his mind and shooting at his neighbors: “Knocking against furniture as if unaware of its presence, Father Vujadin felt his way to the wall where his hunting rifle was hung, loaded at all times. Seizing it instantly, and without even placing it properly against his shoulder, he fired in the direction of the illuminated threshing floor” (370). This seemingly irrelevant story actually hints at the connection between Vujadin and his ancestors. Long before Father Vujadin grabbed his rifle and started shooting at his neighbors, his grandfather, Jakša, and great-grandfather, Melentje, had once seized a rifle with murderous intent. Melentje is enraged when Anika is at his town’s fair and he witnesses her with his son Jakša.
The priest pushed aside the people standing near him, and rushed up the half-dark stairs into his room… In the dark room they found the priest removing a long rifle from its place on the wall. They caught up with him by a window from which, in the middle of the swaying mob, Anika’s fiery tent could be seen. Jakša was there, still bent, and Anika sat in the middle like a finished portrait. (422)
This outburst of insanity would have resulted in the shooting death of Anika had Melentje not been held back from the window overlooking Anika’s tent. Shortly after this incident, Jakša attempts to shoot and kill Alibey, a rival client of Anika’s. Alibey happens to be the kajmakam (mayor) of Visegrad: “The next evening, while the kajmakam was visiting Anika, someone took a shot at him from behind a fence overgrown with ivy. Alibey’s right arm was slightly wounded; the same evening Jakša vanished from the kasaba” (425). Here we see that despite his described good-naturedness earlier in the story, Jakša’s lust for Anika almost drives him to murder.
Despite their standing as members of the church and priesthood, Jakša and Meletje, much like their descendent Vujadin, are shown to be prone to fits of madness and violence. These patterns of violent human behavior that Andrić represents draw upon his experiences with Bosnia and the aftermath of the fall of the Ottoman Empire. Celia Hawkesworth remarks, “It was in the detail of these encounters that Andrić saw essential patterns of human experience: power and weakness, aggression and defense, and, above all, perhaps, the infinite potential for misunderstanding among people of all kinds at every level, compounded always and everywhere by cultural divisions” (204). This struggle of power and weakness is seen in Anika’s Time with the depiction of Anika’s power and the weakness of the townspeople.
Aside from family history repeating itself, there are other cycles of aggression and defense repeated throughout Anika’s Times. For example, the backstory of Mihailo, Anika’s first romantic interest, also demonstrates a recurring fate that Mihailo cannot escape. He first comes to Visegrad to escape from persecution after an affair with a married woman ended in a grisly murder (385). Later, after holding himself responsible for Anika’s actions, Mihailo is again fated to repeat the flight that originally brought him to Visegrad. Also, the titular character of Anika is not the first woman to have turned the village upside down with some form of wickedness. Tijana, just like Anika, earlier brought chaos to the kasaba throughout her life: “Some seventy years earlier there was a shepherd’s daughter, by the name of Tijana, who was well known for her beauty. Casting aside every scruple, she had played havoc with the kasaba. Such was the race and the fight to get her that during a great church fair all the Čaršija shops had remained closed, which had happened before only in time of plague or flood” (402). Tijana’s story, reminiscent of Anika’s, shows that Anika is not the first woman to use her body to turn the town against itself. Presumably, women like Anika and Tijana have been present throughout the town’s existence, and there will be more women like them in the future.
However, despite the temporary turmoil these women cause, the village is shown to rapidly return to a state of normalcy. “Anika’s death changed Visegrad, as it had to. The speed with which everything was restored to the old rhythm was indeed almost hard to believe. No one was curious to know where the woman had come from, why she had lived, and what she had wanted. She was harmful and dangerous, and now she was dead, buried, and forgotten” (439). Anika’s “reign of a year and a half in which [she] devoted herself to evil and disaster” ultimately has little lasting impact on the kasaba. Visegrad has seen the cycles of its inhabitants play out many times in the past, and it settles back into its normal rhythm after the conclusion of each of these cycles. Andrić would have known about Visegrad returning to a state of normalcy because he had been a resident of the town and attended elementary school there (Todorovich). Furthermore, Andrić’s experiences while growing up in Bosnia undoubtedly affected his viewpoint of human destiny. In fact, he was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1961, “for the epic force with which he has traced themes and depicted human destinies drawn from the history of his country” (“Nobel”).
Surprisingly, writers with a Russian perspective have offered similar views of the inevitability of fate. Russian writer Vladimir Makanin writes about a dystopian world where his protagonists initially appear to be in control of their futures. The main protagonist of Makanin’s Escape Hatch, Klyucharyov, is a member of the intellectuals of his time. However, he is torn between the world of the intelligentsia and the world of the common man, wherein his family resides. This character is relatable through many different ideas and symbols. Some writers have compared Klyucharyev with various historical figures. Tatyana Novikov draws a parallel between a well-known Titan of Greek Mythology, Prometheus, and Klyucharyov. “I have argued that Klyucharev is a Promethean both because the radical values he represents have so much in common with Prometheus and because Klyucharev’s story parallels that of Prometheus in the circumstances of his rebellion, suffering, and efforts on behalf of humans” (95). She further explains how Prometheus, who brought the gift of fire to man, suffers for his generosity; similarly, Klyucharyov also brings gifts of fire, such as the candles and flashlight batteries and who also suffers whenever he goes down the hatch to obtain these items. Similarly, in Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave,” men held captive in a cave underground are unable to perceive anything but shadows on the wall. One of the prisoners is set free, makes his way out of the cave, and attains enlightenment. Plato then argues that it is the responsibility of the free man to return to the cave, despite its darkness and ignorance, and lead the unenlightened masses towards a more desirous future for their commonwealth. Unlike most of the other members of the intelligentsia who have fled from responsibility for their fellow man, Klyucharyov chooses to spend his time in the darkness of the surface.
The surface world that Klyucharyov inhabits is a world of suffering, filled with roving bandits and abandoned buildings; food and water are scarce. Makanin wrote Escape Hatch during a time in which nuclear war between the United States and Russia seemed imminent. Novikov notes, “Prefiguring an inexorable catastrophe, Makanin in his novella demonstrates acute sensitivity to the political situation at the end of the Soviet period and skills in formulating the sense of historical crisis in his narrative” (92). The dystopian world detailed in Escape Hatch could take place years after a nuclear war. Sally Dalton-Brown likens the chaotic society in the novel to modern day, war-torn Sarajevo: “Survival is also the theme of [Escape Hatch], in which Makanin describes a future world in which people struggle to survive; Moscow has become a city much like Sarajevo, a place of anarchy where bandits roam and few services work” (230). Novikov also describes the city in stark terms:
Paradoxically, it is the earthly setting of Escape Hatch that is a virtual landscape of hell. The author portrays an apocalyptic picture of times that are out of joint and the horror of living in this Dantean Inferno. The novella’s catalogue of stark and gruesome incidents includes rape, beatings, pogroms, random murders, riots, robberies, burglaries, people crushed by the mob, and, in Doestoevskian fashion, the enormous sufferings of innocent children. Makanin’s is a vision of chaos, degradation, and universal misery. (90)
This unsettling imagery of the city, devoid of light and people, is Makanin’s vision of hell coming to Russia. Every time Klyucharyov ventures out into the hellscape of this city, his wife worries that he may not return because death can come swiftly and unexpectedly to anyone caught in the dark of the abandoned city blocks. The seemingly perpetual darkness of the city accentuates these fears because structures and areas that look benign in the light of day take on a malevolence during the seemingly endless night.
In contrast, the underground occupied by the higher-class intelligentsia is filled with light and comfort. There are many references to the prevalence of the light underground and the lack of light on the surface. The people below ground have an abundance of essentials, such as food, tools, and medical supplies. They are able to enjoy a lifestyle that is normally associated with great wealth. As Escape Hatch progresses, however, it is revealed that the seemingly utopian underground society is not quite as ideal as it appears. Despite having access to advanced medical technology, people are still sick and dying; a young man dropping dead while watching a poetry performance is considered a commonplace enough sight: “A young man. People say that death is taken lightly here. Some people glance over, but because of the public’s preoccupation with the reading, almost no one notices” (77). Later in the story, some residents of the underground are asked to participate in a simple survey where they indicate if they are hopeful for the future. The overwhelming majority of the participants are pessimistic in their views of the future, despite their efforts to survive below ground (85). This pessimism subtly hints at the failure of the intellectuals’ self-imposed exile and indicates that regardless of location, the people’s prospects for the future are grim. Just as on the surface world, the people of the underground are dying, and the exodus of the intellectuals underground is ultimately doomed.
Likewise, Klyucharyov, despite his efforts, also appears to be resigned to this doomed fate near the end of the novel. The cave that he has been preparing since the beginning of the story is ransacked and destroyed by bandits. However, surprisingly, Klyucharyov does not react to the destruction of the cave with any real, appropriate emotion. “It’s a sad moment. ‘But it doesn’t matter,’ Klyucharyov thinks. It’s sad. But it doesn’t matter. He hadn’t believed in his idea very much” (89). Ultimately, we see that just like other members of the intelligentsia, despite his struggles and hard work, he is helpless in aiding his future. Although the circle of fate is more subtly introduced in Escape Hatch, by the end we can see that all the inhabitants of Klyucharyov’s world are trapped in a pessimistic cycle that encompasses their existence. While Escape Hatch takes a very negative view of the future of mankind, it was written at a time when the future was all but certain. Furthermore, Makanin does display optimism for the future in the closing of the novel, after a mysterious, good man helps Klyucharyov when he falls asleep in the street. This man, like Klyucharyov, also tries to bring light to his fellow man trapped in the darkness of the cave. These are the people who give Makanin hope for the future, even among the darkness present in the modern world.
These authors from various parts of Central and Eastern Europe and the Balkans have demonstrated a common viewpoint shared amongst people of their regions, an inescapable fate, over which the participants have no control and which has functioned as a type of prison, influencing these countries throughout their histories and to the present day. Milan Kundera’s position is an arching examination of identity and culture as seen in his novel Identity and his commentary on lost cultures and fate in his essay “The Tragedy of Central Europe.” Ivo Andrić provides examples of cycles of destiny from his history-based writings of local families, events, and locales. Finally, Escape Hatch presents a warning by Vladimir Makanin of the consequences of indifference and the need to break the cycle of apathy. Examination of these works shows that regardless of the differences in each of these authors’ respective regions, these areas of Europe have been tied together throughout history by similar threads of fate.
Works Cited
Andrić, Ivo. Anika’s Times. Translated by Drenka Willen. The Slave Girl: and Other Stories About Women, edited by Radmila Gorup, Central European UP, 2009, pp. 359-443.
Dalton-Brown, Sally. “Ineffectual Ideas, Violent Consequences: Vladimir Makanin’s Portrait of the Intelligentsia.” The Slavonic and East European Review, vol. 72, no. 2, Apr., 1994, pp. 218-232. JSTOR, https://www.jstor.org/stable/4211474.
Hawkesworth, Celia. “Ivo Andrić as Red Rag and Political Football.” The Slavonic and East European Review, vol. 80, no..2, Apr., 2002, pp. 201-216. JSTOR, https://www.jstor.org/stable/4213436.
Kundera, Milan. Identity. Translated by Linda Asher, HarperCollins Publishers, 1998.
Kundera, Milan. “The Tragedy of Central Europe.” Translated by Edmund White, The New York Review of Books, vol. 31, no. 7, Apr. 26, 1984. Parevo 2.0, https://parevo.eu/1parevo/images/PDF/05.%20Kundera%20The%20Tragedy%20of%20Central%20Europe.pdf.
Makanin, Vladimir. Escape Hatch: Two Novellas. Translated by Mary Ann Szporluk, Arids Publishers, 1997.
Novikov, Tatyana. “Makanin’s Hero in ‘Escape Hatch’ as a Russian Prometheus.” Routes of Passage: Essays of the Fiction of Vladimir, edited by Byron Lindsey and Tatiana Spektor, Slavica Press, 2008, pp. 81-96.
Plato. “The Allegory of the Cave.” The Republic, translated by Thomas Sheehan, Stanford U, https://web.stanford.edu/class/ihum40/cave.pdf.
Sartre, Jean-Paul. Existentialism is a Humanism. Translated by Philip Mairet, Methuen, 1948.
Todorovich, Natasha. “The Beauty and Tragedy of the Balkans in Andrić’s Works.” Wright College, Chicago. 2 Nov. 2015. Lecture.
“The Nobel Prize in Literature 1961.” Nobelprize.org. Nobel Media AB 2018, https://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/1961.