Ildikó Kégl

He is the author of Italian Slip – A Diary of a Lynching, The Smell of Life – Psychological Short Stories, Three Bus Stops of Happiness, Objectified Thoughts and Digging, Hoe, Flypaper.

His novels are an evocation of what are in fact eternal human conflicts, the evergreen, painfully common spiritual and relational situations that are presented as topical problems. The distinctive feature of his novels is the interweaving of three values: firstly, the evocation of the evergreen, painfully shared spiritual and relational situations of our evergreen, in fact eternal human conflicts, presented as a problem of the moment. The second value is psychological authenticity, the knowledge that would enable him to write in essay form what he nevertheless presents as a short story, in order to reach the emotional resonance of his readers. He uses psychological terms with astonishing ease, for example, in one of his short stories he quotes a ‘regressively sensitive’ blonde woman who is actually a brunette, but whose frailty, weakness and ‘blondness’ soon become apparent. It becomes clear why she is regressive and sensitive. Ildikó Kégl’s writing is almost psychological, for example about the man who was ‘too low for happiness’. In his protagonist we learn about the fatal unhappiness and tragedy of his lack of self-confidence. Do we recognise in the man who is incapable of self-acceptance and in the couple who love him hopelessly, similar situations in our lives, familiar figures, or even our own Achilles’ heels? Ildikó Kégl skilfully takes care of this confrontation. Her messages seep into the heart through such subtle secret passages that we only notice the effect when we take a stand, emotionally resonating. His third literary virtue is personal honesty. We sense, we know, we ‘read’ from the struggles of the heroes of the short stories with themselves the importance of self-acceptance, self-confidence and courage in the writer’s personal world. It is a commitment that is honourable, courageous and exemplary. To what extent can the protagonist of ‘The Tale of the Woolen Robe’ make amends and carry his loss away in the warmth of nostalgic memories of desires abandoned? How can the self-congratulatory gaze that looks into the mirror day after day fend off the feeling of self-righteousness?