10 articles
Literary criticism in the more narrow (European) sense of the word – meaning texts discussing and criticizing recently published books – is today a very national affair. Almost all books reviewed in daily newspapers, weeklies, and journals are published in the country where the reviewing medium appears. Single reviews or general overviews of books written in other parts of the world and not (yet) translated – be they poetry, short stories, or novels – are extremely rare.
This was not always the case. Not so long ago, both newspapers and magazines regularly reported on and discussed contemporary literature published outside their respective domestic scenes. Many publications even had their own “literary correspondents”, stationed in Paris, Rome, and Madrid (or New York, Moscow, and Berlin). The focus was, of course, on the “bigger” literatures, written in French, German, Spanish, and English, but at least some efforts were made to widen the horizons of an educated and interested audience. Today, this type of outlook is almost completely limited to occasional themed issues and focal points published by literary journals. Even in this small sector of publishing, the situation is far from satisfying: the continuity is gone, and when a focal point or a theme issue is presented (often covering 50 or 100 years of a country’s literary history) the stress is put on the literary texts. If there is any literary criticism at all, it usually deals with one particular author. Articles painting a broad picture of what is really contemporary are rare exceptions.
The situation is not equally bad everywhere. In Germany you can – even in the cultural sections of the major daily newspapers – occasionally find well-informed reviews of, or at least comments on, newly published books from, for example, Poland, Ukraine, or Russia. Occasionally. In most other parts of Europe there is simply nothing.
There are several reasons for this development (the decline of the literary institution, changes in the publishing business, or even “globalization”) but it is safe to say that there is still a need – in the idealistic as well as the practical or professional sense – for a “re-transnationalization” of literary criticism.
“Literary perspectives” is a step in this direction. Eurozine’s new series of essays aims to provide an overview of different and diverse literary landscapes, describing the current literary climate in specific European countries, regions, or languages. The articles in this series are published bi-monthly. Written by renowned literary critics and authors based in the respective countries and regions, they will also represent different critical traditions and practices, and thus widen the meta-critical as well as the literary horizons of Eurozine and its readers.
The literary field in Lithuania has established itself since independence, despite vastly smaller print runs and the onslaught of the mass media. Today, a range of literary approaches can be made out, writes Almantas Samalavicius, from the black humour and social criticism of the middle generation to the more private, realistic narratives of the post-Soviet generation.
Committed, critical writing in Denmark has long since left the domain of literature and turned to genres such as documentary film and journalism, writes Andreas Harbsmeier. As it emerges from its sheltered existence in a reservation, recent Danish literature is collapsing the boundaries between the literary field and the broader public sphere.
While the stars of Croatian “women’s literature” continue to forge their own styles, a new generation of post-feminist writers has emerged in the crossover between literature and journalism. One theme common to much new Croatian writing is the postwar experience, with authors using marginal characters to explore existentialist tensions between individual and society. Yet what really makes contemporary Croatian writing interesting is the variety of individual literary approaches, writes Andrea Zlatar.
Recent literary debates in Sweden have dwelled on authors’ love lives and penchant for designer handbags, yet there is more edifying material out there if one listens carefully. Hans Koppel’s satire of suburban lifestyle, for example, or the social critique of experimental writers Per Thörn and Ida Börjel. A new edition of Lars Gustafsson’s science fiction proves he is still in a league of his own, while Magnus Hedlund’s fiction exploring of the boundaries of human existence is so powerful that it seems inadequate to describe him as a “Swedish writer”.
Though still routinely referred to as Germans, Austrian novelists have experienced a recent run of critical and commercial success. The “difficult” prose of the past has been replaced by a focus on story-telling, with women writers producing no less interesting work in the genre than the new male “narrative miracles”. Yet experimentalism is by no means out: darkly humorous and self-referential “writer’s novels” are also booming. In the latest essay in Eurozine’s series “Literary perspectives”, critic Daniela Strigl surveys a contemporary Austrian scene at the top of its game.
Critical and public discussion of foreign literature in newspapers and magazines has traditionally served as a source of information and guidance not only for a broad readership, but also for “people in the business”, for publishers and authors. When that discussion disappears, or loses its perspectives and becomes one-sided, this has consequences for the literary institution as a whole, writes Eurozine’s editor-in-chief Carl Henrik Fredriksson.
While the Great Estonian Novel has yet to be written, writes poet and critic Märt Väljataga, the range of fiction in Estonian is sufficiently wide to serve as an indicator of the hopes and fears, anxieties and obsessions, of post-communist Estonia. From the autobiographical to the historical realist and allegorical, Estonian novelists have successfully developed a variety of styles to respond to post-Cold War experience.
The liberal, atheist era has come to end in the Netherlands and contemporary Dutch literature reflects that, writes critic Margot Dijkgraaf. The new need for security is reflected in the work of two novelists in particular: Jan Siebelink, whose fiction, free of references to contemporary life, evokes the “profound Holland” overturned in the 1960s; and Arnon Grunberg, whose representations of male disintegration blankly refuse any such reassurances. But there is a parallel strand of current Dutch literature that sidesteps such concerns: novelists and poets with migrant backgrounds introducing new styles and identities into the Dutch literary repertoire.
In Ukraine, the demand for engagement with the immediate past has produced a series of novels that are better described as autobiographies. One such is Yuri Andrukhovych’s The Secret, which, in going to places out of bounds to the conventional autobiography, avoids the kitsch typical of the form. Another example is Irena Karpa’s Freud Would Weep, part travelogue, part novel. The rising star of Ukrainian literature reinvigorates the Ukrainian language, impoverished during the Soviet period, in brilliant ways. But, asks Timofiy Havryliv, is the autobiography equal to the task of representing recent historical experience?
Slovenian novelists are finding highly original ways to record the experience of transitional society, writes poet and critic Ales Steger. While male novelists take a hyper-realist, socially critical approach, their equally successful female counterparts are creating fictions only loosely connected to contemporary time and space. And while poetry and drama are lagging behind, there are still some notable exceptions. But first, an excursus into the Slovenian booktrade’s current fad: the self-help manual…
Critic Matt McGuire continues Eurozine’s Literary Perspectives series with a focus on Northern Ireland. While the Northern Irish literary tradition is closely bound up with the experience of sectarian violence, he writes, contemporary poets and prose writers defy the assumption that “the troubles” are all there is to the country’s literature. The attempt to deal in literary form with the ideological baggage of Northern Ireland’s past is combined with an exploration of identity in the twenty-first century.
Norwegian national cultural identity is often thought of as being hermetic, untarnished by external influence. Norwegians’ relationship with the new Europe is wary – they have twice returned “No” votes to referenda on the EU – while the traditionally strong influence from America goes unchallenged. But what is truly Norwegian, truly European, and truly American in all this? As an author whose influences span Europe and the US, Stig Saeterbakken asks whether literature helps maintain individual and collective identity, or whether it inspires us to discredit it. When the Cyclops demands our name, how should we answer?
In the first essay in the Eurozine “Literary perspectives” series, publisher Gábor Csordás introduces five new Hungarian novels. All share a concern with history and narrative, and all but one – György Spiró’s narrrative tour de force set in the Roman empire at the time of Christ – deal with Hungary’s recent past: the post-war period as experienced by the Slovak minority; a child’s-eye view of social changes during the Communist upheaval; a contemporary Jewish-Hungarian son’s struggle with his father and the past that formed him; and a collision of myth and mundanity when the closure of a collective farm causes the past to unravel. Spiró’s novel too, it emerges, sheds light on contemporary issues: the historical setting echoes in the anti-Semitism concerning many in Hungary today.
Literary studies in Estonia has had to rapidly assimilate twentieth-century literary criticism in order to become an international and modern discipline. But has this process been successful? During the Soviet era, national authors were almost sacrosanct, but rarely discussed in a critical way; today, in the universities, a plurality of approaches and idioms, above all a poorly-spoken postmodernese, has developed at the expense of quality. The editor of Estonian literary and cultural journal Vikerkaar argues that instead of baffling one another with jargon, literary critics should aim at a wider readership. This would satisfy theory’s political claims and guarantee good writing at the same time.



