Povídky

Short Stories by Czech Women

Nancy Hawker

• Publisher: Telegram Books
• Year: 2012
• ISBN:
  9781846591624
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Literary Collections
• Index: Literature

Young women drift through Prague wondering about unplanned pregnancies, a child's reflections on the Christian concept of sinfulnesslead to resolve to sin only 'just a little bit', drunken men banter over interminable card games, and a woman's salvation comes in the unexpected form of pickled buttocks. Bringing together authors of different generations, styles and backgrounds - including for the first time in English translation, two stories by Czech Roma - this collection expresses women's meultiple perspectives on social and intimate issues with by turns caustic and sensitive insight into human nature. 'Full of humour, acuity and inventiveness' -- Maya Jaggi, Guardian 'Wonderfully diverse, energetic and entertaining.' -- Bernie Higgins, One Eye Open

ALENA VOSTRÁ

Elegy

Who could have given her such an idea? Such a slender long neck and she goes and cuts her hair so short.

She held her satchel by the strap, the clasp gradually coming undone.

In the end she took the burden under her arm.

The shimmering air swayed sleepily in the dark. In the tiled house a window clicked and the risqué rhymes of a favourite pop hit spilled onto the pavement.

She stopped and lifted her head.

A couple walking past her did the same. When they didn’t find anything remarkable in the sky, they burst into hiccupping laughter: ‘We used to do that too, but we ...’

The tired maple trees were dozing off, shaking off leaves like open hands. She crushed them with her heels and inhaled the end of summer. A worried fox terrier approached her from the shadows. She didn’t seem in a hurry.

I looked old in that chignon. It’s so stifling hot I can’t wait for the autumn its smell is the best and one can see the farthest in autumn. What time is it I wonder past eleven I guess. Not a single star but those clouds they seem so low if the chimneys weren’t stabbing them they might come all the way to the ground. Warm summer fog. Warm summer fog. It’s fuggying. Those clouds are so that’s what the sea must look like. – What are you laughing about you two what was it you used to do too? – The leaves smell nice smell best when you step on them. Of earth and rot. This bothersome bag can just. Smell old-fashioned and bitter. Like a forgotten cemetery for children born November 1893 died February 1894. Or like when you bite into a fallen chestnut. Look at the shadow. I look so different with the haircut what will he say. Good thing the street is so long one two three four every fifteen steps a tree what are these trees called.

At the corner the dog sniffed her. He was obviously satisfied with his findings and decided to follow the girl.

She walked faster.

The heat made the dog weary but he stepped up his pace. When she looked over her shoulder, he pretended nothing was happening and took an intense interest in the lowest part of the tree trunks. He didn’t want to bother the young lady. He had a clear opinion on loyalty. But a lost master is a lost master.

She was nearly running.

In the end she broke into a desperate sprint.

The dog in full speed hadn’t the time to properly feign his concern for the dried-up yellow puddles. He didn’t like half-done jobs and moreover now was no time for fun and games. Oh no. My master got himself lost at dusk and I can hear the last tram rattling in the distance.

After this brief reflection the dog elected to lay all his cards on the table. He was not going to take any notice of the young lady’s indignation. He was true to his word. He stopped observing the moist landmarks and shamelessly scampered after the young lady with his tongue hanging out. The whole scene resembled an extremely hurried dog-walking.

He was brave. But the look in her eyes when she saw he was still on her heels was difficult for him to bear. – Just you frown, madam. I don’t care. Night is upon us and I wouldn’t mind a bite to eat. You’ll just keep me overnight and in the morning I’ll set everything straight. You don’t agree? Oh but you will. I’ll look at you like this and that will be it. It’s guaranteed. Not the first time they lose me. – Such were the thoughts the dog entertained while he ran with his head turned to face her.

Well look at you! You got lost where is your master where is he then? Hungry aren’t you and I don’t have anything on me right now. Furry doggie. Silly doggie. No don’t do that please no. You can’t follow me stop it. They won’t let me bring you home I’m so sorry don’t look at me like that look here. Hm? A trace? See you’ll be fine. No? Ah, just a puddle stay by the puddle. There. No don’t do that and don’t hide among the trees I can see you. Listen I live far away I have to take the tram can you hear it and then you’d never find your master. Once I brought a kitten home and I had to take it back out to the street that very night I can’t run anymore please just understand I feel really sorry for you but I can’t help you. I cannot and don’t you with your eyes puppy sad as if you didn’t know what kind of dreams I’ve been having.

The tram slowed at the bend. The girl jumped onto the platform. The panting dog stiffened his tail in surprise. He slowly turned around and nonchalantly wandered back. He was clearly offended. – If I knew how, I’d step with my left paws first and then with my right, to show you how I couldn’t care less, madam. – A white lump enticed him to the pavement. – Well well well, what have we here? Wouldn’t mind a drink after that marathon, but all things edible be praised. We’ll eat the bun and then see what next. –

A closely cropped head was catching its breath in the tram. She looked out the grimy window until the dog disappeared in the warm blackness.

Look a number nine I’ve never jumped onto a moving tram I’m terribly scared but I’ll do it now otherwise I’d never get rid of you rid of you. Today’s been a bad day for you like me. It’s at the corner already you’ll find your master tomorrow for sure. I know Mrs Conductor but there was a dog running after me this window is so dirty where is he I have a stitch so hot there he is. Why are you looking at the ground you are sad me even more. And it was such a sweet smelling evening.

Two bow-ties were bobbing on two Adam’s apples. The boys were kneading pairs of sweaty gloves. They were confiding to each other excitedly in croaky voices and then shrieking with laughter. A well-wrapped granny was guarding a basket of gooseberries. In the corner a railwayman’s head was dropping down onto his chest.

When the girl jumped on, the bow-ties slid down, up, and exchanged a knowing comment. Then they immediately returned to their previous worries.

The elderly woman shook her head and popped a berry into her toothless mouth. Her dry cheeks puffed out and deflated only when the last pip had been spat out.

The new arrival did not wake up the sleeping railwayman.

A coquettish redhead with a hen-like expression raised her blue eyebrows and glanced at her wrist.

But the girl stood stuck to the glass and misted it up with her breath.

The conductor was a plump blonde moulded by her uniform and decorated with clanging earrings. She sat on the bench rolling coins into stacks with the fingers of baroque cherubs. At every stop she would stand up lazily, pull the bell and send out a sleepy smile to the driver: ‘All clear, František.’

A tall man in a rustling steel-grey topcoat climbed on. He fingered his ticket and folded himself up next to the old woman. ‘Take some, young man, picked ’em this morning.’ She slid the basket forward. The bow-ties nudged each other, the conductor arranged the curls on her forehead, and the railwayman gave a start. He recognised the street through the crack of his eyelids and stepped off with a curse. ‘Don’t mind if I do,’ the tall man appreciated, and grabbed a clumsy handful.

The girl finally tore herself away from the window. She sat down next to the neat little stacks of coins and focussed all her attention on a thick book.

The conductor leaned back slightly and squinted over the girl’s shoulder. The girl jerked her shoulders and gave the podgy face a careworn stare. The earring...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title
• Contents
• Acknowledgements
• Introduction
• Pronunciation Guide
• Alexandra Berková, Mininovel
• Viola Fischerová, The Path of Medium Sinfulness
• Anna Zonová, One Pistachio Ice Cream
• Sabrina Karasová, Barbed is the Wire in the Sudetenland
• Květa Legátová, Owlet
• Magdaléna Platzová, Every Civilisation Has Its Heyday
• Tera Fabiánová, How I Went to School
• Lenka Reinerová, All the Colours of the Sun and the Night
• Kateřina Rudčenková, The Forest
• Kateřina Sidonová, A Day in the Half-life of Class 4D
• Alena Vostrá, Elegy
• Svatava Antošová, Don’t Tell Mum
• Erika Olahová, A Child
• Věra Stiborová, Spades
• Sabrina Karasová, Divine Trumpets
• Biographical Notes
• Copyright