The Door by Magda Szabó

Magda Szabó's The Door - an intense story, a haunting story, a fiercely compelling story of the relationship between two women living in a Hungarian village: Magda, a married writer and Emerence, a mysterious housekeeper possessing qualities of epic proportions. To my eye the above portrait by Hungarian born artist Csaba Markus captures what Emerence must have looked like as a younger woman.

Critical responses to The Door have been dramatic in the extreme: Ali Smith: "a story of such savagery that it demands both silence and truth," Cynthia Zarin: "a bone-shaking book," Deborah Eisenberg: "a white-knuckle experience," Claire Messud: "It has altered the way I understand my own life." Let me assure you, reading The Door and listening to Siân Thomas narrate the audio book makes for one riveting, unforgettable experience.

Originally published in Hungarian in 1987, this New York Review Books edition of The Door is translated into a fluid English by Len Rix and includes a short Introduction by Ali Smith. Author Magda Szabó acknowledges there's a strong element of autobiography at work. 

We are in a Hungarian village and listen in as an established author by the name of Magda recounts her experience over the course of twenty years, from, say, about 1965 to 1985, living in a large apartment with her husband, a university instructor, and dog. However, the heart of the heart of this tale centers around Magda and older Emerence, an illiterate woman of peasant stock with almost superhuman strength and endurance for work in the service of others. 

A number of other men and women strut and fret their minutes on the pages of the novel - the son of Emerence's brother ("Józsi's boy"), a Lieutenant Colonel and three old women, friends of Emerence: Adélka, Polett, Sutu - but Emerence is the true dramatic presence and it is Emerence whom I will make the focus of my review.

Emerence as the 20th Century
Magda figures Emerence was born around 1905. The more Emerence shares her tragic background, including losing her father as a young child, as a thirteen-year-old witnessing the death of her beautiful twin siblings during a storm followed immediately by the suicide of her mother, her orphan years during and after WWI, living through the atrocities and brutalities of WWII, the more we recognize Emerence embodies the twentieth century, especially twentieth century Hungary. We feel her bitterness when she tells Magda: "You don't die that easily, but let me tell you, you come close to it. Afterwards, what you went through makes you so clever you wish you could become stupid again, utterly stupid. Well, I got clever, which shouldn't surprise you, because I was given training round the clock."

Emerence as a true Christian
The more I learned of Emerence's unflinching love and ceaseless devotion to those in need - women, men, children, animals - the more I was reminded of the 12th & 13th century European women who became Beguines to embrace a life of poverty in order to care for the poor and sick. Although Emerence is illiterate, she reminds me specifically of Marguerite Porete, a Beguine, mystic and author of The Mirror of Simple Souls emphasizing the power of love as infinitely more important than following Church rules. Marguerite Porete, a truly free-spirited woman was burned at the stake for heresy. One can only wonder if Emerence would have been condemned to a similar fate if born in those Medieval years.

Emerence as Ancient Pagan Spirit
When Magda reflects on the inner spirit of this powerful woman, she sprinkles in references to Homer, Hesiod and Greek mythology, references to Sophocles, Euripides and Greek tragedy. “Beneath Medea-Emerence’s headscarf glowed the fires of the underworld." No doubt about it, Emerence, a woman of the Earth that's larger than life.

Emerence as Village Hero
Over the years Emerence came in conflict with others in the village, a series of nasty incidents with a pigeon breeder comes immediately to mind. But this tireless woman never permitted her dedication to her neighbors to slacken - among her many chores: clearing snow from eleven different buildings and raising Viola, the dog Magda and her husband take in. "Everyone trusted Emerence, but she trusted no-one; or, to be more precise, she doles out crumbs of trust to a chosen few - the Lieutenant Colonel, me, Polett while she was alive, Józsi's boy - and stray morsels to a few others."

Emerence as Monument Builder
"She was saving her strength for the time when she might actually do something about the past." The drama of how exactly Emerence plans out her final tribute to those she held dear in her life is something to behold.

Emerence as fierce judge and jury
Emerence is not one to pull any punches. Magda absorbs the sting in the truth of her words. "You have an appalling nature," she began. "You puff yourself up like a bullfrog, and one day you'll explode. The only thing you're good for is getting your friend in the helicopter to make trees dance by trickery. You never grasp what is simple."

Emerence the fierce individual
In the end, all of what I have noted above can be tossed in the fire - there is no doubt, Emerence is her own woman, one who defies categorization. "What more do you want? I cook, I wash, I clean and tidy. I brought Viola up for you. I'm not your dead mother, or your nursemaid, or your little chum. Leave me in peace."

How could I write my review without a reference to the door, Emerence's door. Right before Magda does receive entrance here is what Emerence has to say: "Now pay attention. If you tell anyone, I'll put a curse on you. Anyone I curse comes to a sticky end. You're going to see something no-one has ever seen, and no-one ever will, until they bury me." What does Magda get to see? You will have to read this classic novel for yourself to find out.


Master Storyteller Magda Szabó from Hungary, (1917-2007)

"She also demanded of me that, in my art, it should be real passion and not machinery that moved the branches. That was a major gift, the greatest of her bequests.”
― Magda Szabó, The Door