My Crazy Century by Klíma Ivan

Author:Klíma, Ivan [Klíma, Ivan]
Language: ar
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Atlantic Books Ltd
Published: 2014-01-15T16:00:00+00:00

16

Surprisingly, we were allowed to walk through customs at the Prague airport without any inspection and thus were able to bring in the dollars we had saved, of which I carried some in my wallet and some, without a great amount of ingenuity, stuck between the pages of The History of Czech Literature.

Our apartment had been cleaned and aired out. My considerate mother-in-law had even prepared food for us and placed it in the refrigerator. On my desk lay a pile of letters and a recent newspaper.

I was home. I didn’t know what I was going to do—today, tomorrow, or next week.

I telephoned various friends. Most welcomed me home, but a few were taken aback to hear that I was calling from Prague. Their news about the current situation was depressing. A great many people who had worked in film, radio, television, or publishing or taught college or even high school had lost their jobs. The shooting of several films had been interrupted indefinitely, and others that were ready for release could not be shown. Our books had been removed from all bookstores, and newspapers were forbidden to publish any articles by those who were on a secret list of “flawed” writers. Who was on the list? Almost everyone. I also discovered that a meeting of the central committee of the Writers’ Union was to take place, and I was expected. Apparently, it would be the last meeting.

From the telephone booth on the corner of our street, I called Olga and told her I was back in Prague.

“Klímka,” she said, “you can’t be serious! Have you gone insane?” She then added: “No, you’re still over there. For me, you left and remained there.”

*

I was waiting for the tram in front of the Mánes Gallery. Two boys and two girls were sitting on the sidewalk; all were wearing jeans and tennis shoes, and the boys were as hairy as forest people. One of them got up and walked over to me.

Him: My friend, what sort of problems are you having?

Me: The tram isn’t running.

Him: You don’t have any other problems?

Me: Not right now.

Him: Strange. You’re not suffering?

Me: No more than anyone else.

Him: In that case, I can’t help you. Keep waiting for the tram. It might never come.

From my diary, January 1970

*

I was received with astonishment at the writers’ meeting. To them, I seemed like an extraterrestrial standing right before their eyes. Then Jaroslav Seifert, who was chairing the meeting, welcomed me home. I think he was touched that at least one of his colleagues had decided to return from the free part of the world to our present misery. After the meeting, I went to see my former colleagues at the publishing house and learned that the entire print run of my last book of short stories had been confiscated and pulped. I asked if I could work for them as a freelance copyreader. They promised to look into it and during my next visit informed me that it was out of the question.

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