Sarah Resnick in LRB: ‘On arriving in Neuchâtel [Ágota] Kristóf didn’t speak a word of French. She carried on writing in Hungarian, but in time she came to see this as a dead end; if she wanted to be read – by her friends, her children, her neighbours – she would have to write in the language of her new home.’

And: ‘She [Kristóf] didn’t do the things many novelists do, such as review books or write essays; didn’t conform to the expectations for immigrant writers by translating the work of other Hungarian authors or promoting their work; didn’t socialise much with other writers. She kept diaries but couldn’t bring herself to reread them, and burned them before she died.’

And: ‘“Collective misfortunes,” she [Kristóf] observed, “mark you less than the personal ones.”’

Collective misfortunes are bad luck. Personal misfortunes often feel like a form of punishment.

I highly recommend Kristóf’s work.

(a sf 2107)