Review (#9): "The Mysterious Goat Buck" by Dezső Kemény (1970)

The cover of "The Mysterious Goat Buck" by Dezső Kemény

By Péter MARTON

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Socialist Realist it ain't, but there's plenty of socialist reality in it. A key charm of the book. Like other readers before me, I couldn't resist this, either.

"The Mysterious Goat Buck" is a collection of SF detective stories (a sub-genre in its own right). Unless exceptionally well-written, such stories can always feel a little mechanical, with a Big Revelation coming up at some point, towards the end, showing you that you were wrong all along. When combined with SF, the Big Revelation has also, by rule, to be connected to a Fantastic New Concept (FNCs, or "fancies" from hereon). The culprit behind the crime being investigated is one step ahead of everyone, with the exception of the smart detective, and is the master of a concept never before seen implemented. An innovation that is, in spite of this, eventually anticipated by the smart protagonist, the result being that our detective becomes doubly too smart, stretching credulity.

Kemény's stories are up to the standards you would expect from the sub-genre, even as he doesn't care a lot about the basic plausibility of some of the fancies he throws in (from teleporting goat bucks to ultrasound assassinations). But the lack of plausibility may get a pass because of his person and the special milieu in which he wrote, and which is represented in his writings, making them documents of the times as much as they are works of literature.

Dezső Kemény (1925-2002) lived for most of his life in Dunaújváros -- the town that used to be Sztálinváros (Stalin City) in the decade of 1951-1961, a rather dull place that was subjected to fast-track Socialist heavy-industrialisation back then.

Here are some excerpts from the quotes that are easy to come across from Kemény on the Hungarian interwebz, conveniently sparing me the trouble of presenting his biography.

"I was good in the sciences and it seemed fairly straightforward that I would become an engineer. The problem was that I didn't have particularly deft hands, so then how the hell was I going to wind up as an engineer? I realised I should go into the humanites maybe, so I went to Pázmány Péter University, and in the meantime started translating poems, from Greek and Latin, but two years later I was telling myself: Dezső, this is not cut out for you, and I quit - that is how, with some really hard work over the years, I went to zero."

"So I stayed in Dunaújváros, and this is where I'm staying now, for this is where I lived for much of my life. How did I spend all this time? I spent it as I lived. I worked here and there, I wrote and I translated in the meantime, if I did a good job or a bad job, who am I to judge this ... I wasn't exactly aiming for the summit of Mount Parnassus, I just stayed here and kept writing, as well as I could, based on my ability."

"Be loyal to yourself! Everyone should follow one's own stupid head, that is what I do."

A portrait of the maestro

A run-down milieu and an inward-looking society

Kemény's resigned attitude and his environment are reflected in his writings. For example, in the unusual sources of inspiration for some of his fancies.

One of my favourite stories from him is "Egy csomag kártya" (A Pack of Cards). Imre Szakács, the smart detective, goes to Sicily here as a tourist, and by (predictable) accident finds himself in the role of investigator, investigating a strange case of kidnapping in the area of Taormina. An entire group of tourists is trapped by mysterious kidnappers in a strange structure that induces an optical illusion, and even affects gravity to "bend the light somehow." A crazy idea with nothing in the way of a full explanation of how this would be possible. Szakács can't explain, either, but he comes to the conclusion that the kidnapped tourists saw a column-like shape in front of them that was in fact a wall surrounding them. He adds: "It's just like the old Budapest joke about the drunkard who feels his way around an advertising column to eventually scream: 'Oh my gosh, somebody walled me in here!'" Szakács has a partner in the investigation, a clever Frenchman, who cleverly concludes that there must have been a clever mastermind behind such a clever trick!

Elsewhere, Szakács, who -- unusually for a Socialist-era Hungarian police officer -- speaks several languages, reveals that his French always reminded his teacher of Salgótarján (a place in the north of Hungary, implying that he must have had a heavy rural Hungarian accent).

In yet another story, he observes that public lighting is less than adequate on the outskirts of town. "It would be time to plant arc street lamps on the peripheries, too," he declares, in a quasi-revolutionary statement, critical of authorities. I have visited Dunaújváros back in the 1980s, and I'm almost certain Kemény was talking about his own street here... A little advocacy for the little people.

Things haven't changed so much over here since then, so I can easily sympathise with him.

Goulash Communism in the house...

The book was published in 1970 and you get a sense of the loosening of the Kádár regime in Hungary. The plot unfolds in the future of 1970s Hungary, and various telling dialogues take place between detective Szakács and his superior, giving you hints of the changes underway. For example, boss talks about how boosting tourism (in the literal translation of the Hungarian term: "the flow of foreigners", i.e. idegenforgalom in the original) is now very important to the country.

On another occasion, he addresses Szakács referring to his rank in Russian as "товарищ старший лейтенант" (Comrade Senior Lieutenant). Szakács, who speaks English, responds: "I see, sir. Thank you, sir. How do they say it at Scotland Yard? I'm sorry, sir," meeting Russian with English... Two police officers, who do not take the Soviet Union and Soviet leadership of the Eastern bloc entirely seriously.

The ultimate delicacy -- a bit of Socialist-era Hungarian futurism

In "Mindenki tett? Nincs tovább" (Faites vos jeux, messieurs! Rien ne va plus!), Szakács has to get to the bottom of a case of casino fraud by Lake Balaton, so he gets a bus ride... On the hoverbus. A hoverbus that goes to currently non-existent Balatonújhely or "Balaton New Haven" twice per day, from early spring till late fall. We learn that it reaches the speed of 300 clicks an hour in under 5 minutes, and that the track is a practically linear (no bends, no elevation) ferrocement strada, with brims on each side to keep the vehicle on track. Siófok, currently the major settlement on the southern shore of Lake Balaton, pales in comparison to the imaginary Balaton New Haven. Hardly anyone gets off in Siófok. The passengers, who include people from the West, even Brits and Americans, get to the final destination of Balaton New Haven in 40 minutes. They enjoy air-conditioning during the trip -- this is such a big novelty that it takes time for Szakács to get fully used to this.

You may be in need of some local knowledge to appreciate this. Siófok and Lake Balaton are but a little over 100 kilometres from Budapest. As of 2018, almost 50 years later, there are fast trains running several times a day, making the journey in 80 minutes, but average travel time is around 2 hours according to schedule (and trains are often delayed). AC is available on these trains since only recently, and it often doesn't work properly. Meanwhile, Siófok remains the major settlement on the southern shore of the lake. Western tourists there are, but they are, as may be expected, mostly German-speaking. 

Here's a recent interesting piece on the lost futurism of the past over at Meanwhile in Budapest. I guess it might be worth a read related to this... Plus, having tipped my hat, perhaps it is ok if I shamelessly steal a picture from there, of a propeller-driven train! :)

Conclusion

There is really no way for me to judge how Kemény's stories might appeal to a non-Hungarian audience. But I suspect they may be interesting enough, should they become available in English one day, if for nothing else, then for their sheer obscurity.

Previously reviewed here on EUtopias and Other Futures: Dmitry Glukhovsky's Metro 2033