| Today, sharp divisions again are evident in Polish literary life, although they are somewhat different than in communist times. | Poland today is a different country than seventeen years ago when the union and movement known as Solidarity emerged through a combination of fortuitous circumstances. In 1997, both literary life and the values around which intellectual currents revolve look different as well. In 1980, anti-communist intellectual circles were the major factor shaping literary opinion and the ethos of Solidarity. While the Round Table deliberations (1989) and the events that they set in motion did bring about a normalization of relations between government and society, they also led to a fracture in the anti-communist coalition which had included many writers. Today, sharp divisions again are evident in Polish literary life, although they are somewhat different than in communist times. When the Swedish Academy awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature to Czeslaw Milosz in 1980, euphoria prevailed among Polish literary critics. The same honor bestowed upon Wislawa Szymborska in 1996, however, has evoked an incomparably more complex reaction involving serious dissent. The editors of Periphery have set forth this situation by excerpting a range of opinion which includes some critical reviews of Szymborska's work, as well as two reactions from the American press for comparison. In the last analysis, controversy is a sign of normal life and precisely in this sense, Poland is a different country than seventeen years ago--in fact, a far more normal one. The Editors |
I have been saying that Polish poetry is strong and distinguished upon the background of world poetry by certain traits. Those traits can he found in the poems of a few eminent Polish poets including Wislawa Szymborska. Her Nobel Prize is her personal triumph but at the same time it confirms the place of the "Polish school of poetry." Perhaps it is not necessary to recall that the language of that poetry is the language of a country where the crime of genocide was perpetrated on a mass scale. Links between the word and historical experiences can be of various kinds, and there is no simple relationship of cause and effect. And yet a certain fact is not without significance: Szymborska like Tadeusz R´Àewicz and Zbigniew Herbert, writes in the place of the generation of poets who made their debut during the war and did not survive. What does the poetry of Szymborska marked as it is by such a lightness of touch, skeptically smiling, playful. have to do with the history of the twentieth, or any other. century'? In its beginnings, it had much to do with it, but its mature phase moves away from images of linear time rushing toward utopia or an apocalyptic catastrophe, as the just-ending century liked to believe. Her dimension is personal, of one person who reflects on the human condition. It is true that her reflection goes together with a remarkable reticence, as if the poet found herself on a stage with the decor for a preceding play, a play which changed the individual into nothing, an anonymous cipher, and in such circumstances to talk about oneself is not indicated. Czeslaw Milosz, "On Szymborska." New York Review of Books, November 14, 1996. | |
The greatness of Polish poetry at the end of the 20th century has much to do with its philosophical and ethical seriousness. It has come to be admired by other poets during the past 20 years or so for its immense intellectual sophistication, its lucid rejection of tyranny and its humane and democratic values. By contrast, French and German poetry can seem humorless and didactic, English poetry narrow and provincial, American poetry self-absorbed and naÀve. Polish poets have not become caught up in the postmodern fads that contemporary writers everywhere have been swept along by; they have struggled to maintain the humanist purposes of literature--to make the poetic imagination, as Herbert says, "an instrument of compassion." Polish poetry has often been called a poetry of witness. "What occurred in Poland was an encounter of a European poet with the hell of the 20th century," Milosz has written. The best Polish poets have been determined to speak in their own voices, from their own perspectives, and yet they have found it virtually impossible to ignore the catastrophic history of their country. They have been involuntary witnesses to World War II, the Holocaust, a Russian occupation and Stalinism, the imposition of martial law in 1981. No writer safely ignores the trampling of his or her own country. That said, the notion of witnessing does not tell all: Poland's poets are metaphysical poets forced to become historical ones. While they could not help being aware of the history inflicted upon them, they nevertheless have remained most keenly interested in exploring the nature of reality at even deeper levels, meditating on life's essences. Herbert, for example, has pursued questions about the nature of philosophical truth, of suffering, of time, of God--even as he lived and wrote in opposition to totalitarianism. Like Herbert, Szymborska is a philosophically inflected poet who investigates large unanswerable questions with terrific delicacy. She pits her dizzying sense of the world's transient splendor against unbearable historical knowledge.
Edward Hirsch, "A Poetry That Matters."
The New York Times Magazine, December 1, 1966.
Szymborka's poetry is not the speech of emotions, but the speech of intellect and imagination, and in its own way, a commendation and critique of language as well. Hers is a philosophical poetry all its own, natural and spontaneous. As in the case of another great twentieth-century intellectual poet, Boleslaw Lesmian, Szymborska's poetry is without deliberation and excessive erudition, or issue directly expressed. Here intellectual play results from linguistic play, dependent not upon pronouncements of this or that truth, but inquiry in words and thought words, as in Szymborska's well-known reflective poem, "Conversation with a Stone" on the essence of things, or "The Railroad Station" with its intellectual play, her poetry is interwoven with linguistic play ceaseless dialogue with what language offers, its possibilities and limitations. The poet respects the suggestions intimidated by the word and seeks variously to exploit them without being constrained by them. Mistress of the Polish word, Szymborska uncovers its unexpected (and often unforeseen) powers, and continually accomplishes its exploration and renewal.
Michal Glowinski, "The Nobel Prize for Literature"
Nowe Ksiazki, no. 11 (1996).
I don't know whether there is a patron saint for friends, but I have no doubt that Wislawa is in good standing with St. Jerome, the patron saint of translators. She has good luck with them. Rarely can any of their renderings be considered "beautiful but unfaithful". Writing poetry in a language which the members of the Academy cannot read in the original makes the poet dependent in great measure upon the quality of translations. Today's award is undoubtedly a tribute to the translators and popularizers of Wislawa Szymborska in Sweden, Andrzej Nils Uggli, in German, Karl Dedecius, in English, Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh, Adam Czerniawski, Magnus Krynski, and Robert Maguire. Michal Bron, Jr. "Some Notes from the Time of Working on Szymborska," Odra, no. 11 (1966). It is inconsiderable that Nobel Prize recipients are chosen without any influence on the part of the pressure groups emanating from the candidate's own country. Since Zbigniew Herbert has long been among the Polish candidates, perhaps it should be considered whether due to some group, he might have been sidelined as a reserve candidate after Szymborska. After Herbert's recent battles in the press which (regardless of one's opinion about them) clearly could not affect the significance of his literary output, he became the object of disconcerting and even coarse attacks by Polish opinion-makers connected with (in the conventional phrase) Freedom Union--including among others, Gazeta Wyborcza. Suddenly, Herbert's name disappeared from the pages of their press. He had the courage to express different views about Polish patriotism and to criticize accepted authorities--seemingly further proof of Herbert's living, creative energy worthy of respect. Evidently, this was not a view in some Polish cultural circles dominant in recent years. Since the existence of Szymborska's supporters is beyond doubt, I certainly don't rule out the probability of pressure from some quarters that--should a Pole win the prize--it would not be Zbigniew Herbert. Had this not been the case, both his poetry and his stature would have been an example to the world in great part due to the Nobel Prize for literature.
Jacek Trznadel, "Why I Don't Sing in the Choir."
Gazeta Polska, October 17, 1996.
As a scholar and literary critic, I should evaluate literary works of art as calmly and as objectively as possible. Concerning the award of the Noble Prize for literature to Wislawa Szymborska, I must question whether Polish literature does not have living writers of higher caliber. Undoubtedly, it does. Szymborska is a fine poet. I avoid the term "excellent", so as not to offend a writer known for coining the phrase, "the idiocy of excellence."), but one who, nevertheless, exemplifies little variety or innovation, one who has not initiated any new aesthetic ideas or techniques, expressed an original world view, or elicited great intellectual discussion. All in all, Szymborska is certainly inferior to Zbigniew Herbert, Gustaw Herling-Grudzi´ski, Slawomir MroÀek or Tadeusz R´Àewicz, and probably to Stanislaw Lem and Jan J´zef Szczepa´ski as well. Amid all the joyous outbursts of journalists and politicians, however, the public may begin to wonder. After all, such authorities as Wal´sa, Michnik and Kora have assured us that these are no greater writer than the author of A Great Number and that the world popularity is enormous. Is it just my personal opinion that the 1996 Nobel laureate does not occupy the first ranks of Polish writers? There is, nevertheless, an objective verification much stressed in the contemporary humanities: the volume and quality of creative perception concerning a given artist. Of course, I personally may err, as may other critics individually, but not the entire milieu of those professionally connected with the national language--in this case, either writing literature or literary criticism. Let's take a look at what polish literary studies has produced about the words of major living Polish writers. To be concise and not burden the reader with statistics, let us look at the most striking indicator: the number of high quality books about the big names of our literature. On Zbigniew Herbert, Gustaw Herling-Grudzi´ski, and Tadeusz R´Àewicz, there are six to seven solid volumes (for each), as well as several smaller titles that are really pamphlets. On Stanislaw Lem and Slawomir MroÀek, there four to five volumes (again for each writer), plus pamphlets. What about the 1996 laureate? There is not a single volume, regardless of quality, none at all. To be precise, I should include a 1974 pamphlet (published in French) by Urszula Bialous in the Agencja Autorska informing foreign publishers and critics about several dozen contemporary Polish writers plus an issue of Pozna´skie Studia Polonistyczne published in 1995. Neither of these two publications can be compared with the often excellent monographs on other possible Nobel candidates written by critics such as Jan Blo´ski, Stanislaw Bara´czak, Jerzy Jarz´bski, or Jacek 1ukasiewicz. Of course this will soon change, because the arts have never lacked for opportunities. The more enterprising among them have been at work on the subject since speculation about Wislawa Szymborska as a possible Nobel winner began in 1995.
Krzysztof Dybciak, "The Nobel Prompt Reflections."
Tygodnik Solidarnosc, no. 43 (1996)
The poetry which has been honored by the Swedish Academy is without doubt a distinguished body of work, remarkable for its exemplary discipline and expression, carefully--even ascetically--crafted, down to the last detail. At the same time, it does not avoid emotion, and its subjects are accessible to anyone with the slightest sensitivity to the paradoxes and peculiarities in this world of adventures and mishaps. "Love at First Sight," "Cat in an Empty Apartment," "Nothing Twice," belong to the unquestioned achievements of the contemporary meditative lyric. Fine craftsmanship combines with usually sparkling inventiveness; wit and wisdom reinforce the idea conveyed to the reader. What more could one ask? Through the poetry of the 1996 laureate, the Royal Swedish Academy once again has focused world media attention (as well as that of Szymborska's compatriots preoccupied with other things) upon the vitality, brilliance, and spiritual power of Polish poetry in general. Is this not something to celebrate? Gazing at the waters of the bay, safely surrounded by the inhabited world, I am suddenly struck by a similarity between these waters and Szymborska's poetry. Beneath their smooth surface, sometimes stronger currents flow and profundity exists, but it is not inaccessible. The open sea, however, really begins beyond the horizon. In Szymborska's poetry, the water's edge is ever present. It reflects the reality of the shoreline, at least relatively tame and familiar, with people on the bridge or pier, animals close by them, and if there is something more, then it appears in such a way that it isn't possible to distinguish the fiery lights of the sky from the flickering of glowlamps. Sailing the bay, one could hardly expect an encounter with the Absolute. In its choice this year, the Swedish Academy bypassed Polish poets and writers who have long deserved the Nobel Prize, literary artists who sail the open seas and with practically every poem and word risk their own mental peace, their reputation, or the loss of friends for principle (whether ethical, political, or "only" aesthetic). The Academy overlooked--since doubtless it had no one to remind it--daring men, voyagers to the most distant history or civilization, or to the metaphysical Ultima Thule: Herling-Grudzinski, R´zewicz, Herbert. Instead, the Academy rewarded Penelope, undoubtedly worthy of honor, diligent, and thoughtful, slightly sarcastic, seated before the phosphorescing azure of the bay.
Tomasz Burek, "With Moderate Joy."
Gazeta Polska, October 7, 1996.
Every Nobel Prize is unfair. When the radio station called to inquire my opinion regarding the award to Szymborska, I thought, "It's happened. For certain neither Zbigniew Herbert nor Tadeusz R´zewicz will ever get it. Our quota is used up." When, however, the reporter asked if I thought R´Àewicz should have received the Nobel instead, I replied "The Nobel Prize is unfair because only the living can receive it. I think that Witold Gombrowicz should have gotten it. It's unfair that one has to be born at just the right time. From all accounts, Gombrowicz was to have been awarded the prize in 1969. Supposedly he died only a few months short. Samuel Beckett got it. Neither Gunter Grass, Leo Tolstoy, nor Franz Kafka were Nobel Prize winners. Polish Nobel laureates ought to be Szymborska and Herbert, and R´Àewicz. But then the question immediately arise, what about Slawomir MroÀek, Tadeusz Borowski, or Boleslaw LeÀmian? The list of those eligible is as stellar as the list of recipients. Polish literature has never been as strong or as significant in the world as it is today--even in the time of Mickiewicz or Slowacki. And what about being gifted with a million dollars at age seventy-past? When Gombrowicz was honored with the European Formentor Prize (often considered a prelude to the Nobel), he was already so exhausted that he viewed any unexpected financial windfalls like a hungry man outside a grocery store window. There is always a contradiction between the Nobel Prize and youth.
Stefan Chwin, "Unfair Nobel."
Dziennik Baltycki, October 5-6, 1966
Finance minister ordered . . . the revenue office in Cracow where Wislawa Szymborska lives to waive that portion of tax "from the Nobel prize." At a conference, Grzegorz Kolodko showed a volume of Szymborska's poetry, noting that he'd read it on the plane. To the amazement of reporters, he quoted the poem, "Nothing's a Gift," which opens with the line, "Nothing's a gift, it's all on loan . . . " and closing with "My debts will be repaid, and I'll be fleeced, or, more precisely, flayed." "As you can see, ladies and gentlemen, I will not flay anyone's skin." In the Press Office of the Finance Ministry, we're told that waiving of the tax on Szymborska's award is the first such instance, with the exception of Hugon Steinhaus who received an award from the Polish Foundation for the Popularization of Science. By law, awards up to 915 zlotys are tax free. The minister admitted that neither publically nor privately is he expecting a Nobel prize in the field of economics.
Przemyslaw Kubiak, "Nobel Laureate Untaxed"
Super Express, October 5-6, 1996