"I placed my fingers lightly on the keys, barely touching them. I did not start to type right away. All at once I was no longer in a hurry. The story now stood before me, formed, final, whole. Almost palpable. All I had to do was write it. I wanted this moment to last as long as possible." - Zoran Živković, Impossible Encounters
Zoran Živković recounts how a number of his novels, including Impossible Encounters, share a similar internal architecture in that they consist of seemingly stand-alone stories, however, upon reaching the end, a reader discovers an underlying unity forming an organic whole.
The author acknowledges he himself didn't invent what he terms a "mosaic novel" nor did he apply this form intentionally as a narrative strategy; rather, the mosaic architectural form came to him spontaneously as the optimal way to accomplish what he was attempting to convey in his prose. Beyond a doubt, such spontaneity fits in with his description of his creative process ever since his first novel written back at age forty-five: the non-rational part of his mind dictates his stories as he sits at his computer and types out what he is being told.
In retrospect, Zoran Živković could see this mosaic novel form possessed a most appealing quality: it represents a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts. Bull's eye, Zoran! That's precisely the feeling I came away with upon reading the concluding paragraphs of Impossible Encounters: the short novel contains an underlying cohesion and unity that's greater than the sum of its six individual chapters.
In pursuit of the novel's underlying unity, the author urges us to take on the role of detective in hunting for clues beginning from the first chapter. I wouldn't want to give away too much but I will share two obvious threads running through each of the six chapters: 1) a book entitled Impossible Encounters appears at some point in the story, 2) the main character, always a quiet, sedate, orderly type of individual, meets a mysterious older man who injects an element of Middle-European "fantastika" which might be translated as "fantasy" if the term wasn't immediately associated with Tolkienesque fiction. Perhaps a better translation would be "fantastic" in somewhat similar spirit a Jorge Luis Borges tale is fantastic.
So as to share a modest sip, here's a direct quote from each of the chapters along with my reflections:
1. The Window
"I was not overly surprised when I finally saw my own portrait next to one of the doors. I hadn't expected it, but it didn't seem out of place. After all, if so many others had their portraits hanging there, why shouldn't I? Where else can one hope for a privileged position if not in one's own dream?" The narrator tells us he died in his sleep. But what he finds so strange about his current after death state is its lack of strangeness; quite the contrary, all of what he sees and experiences appears entirely normal, even finding his own portrait among a series of portraits hanging in a long, narrow hallway. One can only wonder if such a prim and proper fellow could have predicted in what life form he would have chosen to make his return trip.
2. The Cone
"I stopped, still in cloud from the waist down, and waited for my eyes to adjust. Above me stretched the immeasurable, bright blue firmament, and as far as I could see below me was a motionless sea, its uniformity disturbed here and there by the islands of mountain peaks similar to the one I had just reached, forming a scattered archipelago in the sky." What is it about a mountain top that brings out the philosopher in even the most lackluster bookkeeper type? Zoran Živković is the first to admit his tales touch on our ultimate questions of life and death, identity and freedom.
3. The Bookshop
"The work I'm looking for is in this bookshop," he said. His tone had lost its previous uncertainty and become self-confident. Even more than that: he said it in a voice that would brook no objection. "And it's not old at all. Quite the contrary, it's just been written." The narrator runs a bookshop specializing in science fiction. Not only does an inquisitive visitor to his bookstore one foggy evening claim to have traveled from a distant star but speaks of a strange fifth force and insists he be given the book he needs to resolve a problem of cosmic proportion. Can you guess the title of that book? Nope! Sorry - you will have to read to find out.
4. The Train
"Mr. Pohotny, Senior Vice President of a bank prominent in the capital city, met God on a train. In a First Class compartment, of course." So begins this quizzical chapter. Turns out, God will answer Mr. Pohotny's questions. Oh, good, I thought, we will find out if this God has limited or unlimited powers. Not at all. As Vice President of a prominent bank, Mr. Pohotny has a more profound question to ask of God.
5. The Confessional
"The deep, harsh coughing that came from the other compartment of the confessional sounded almost like a distant growl." The church is empty; guess who our priest has occasion to speak with in the confessional? Again, Zoran Živković enjoys playing with ultimate questions, this time with memory, identity and the nature of good and evil.
6. The Atelier
"Holding his hat in his hand, the old man bowed again. "I cannot tell you my name, unfortunately, since you did not give me one. I am a character from one of your stories who remained nameless. But so it is with many of your characters, is it not?" Oh, my. Not only does a character want to discuss his own life with his author, he would dearly enjoy discussing a number of other lives as well. If you give it some thought, I suspect you will be able to guess which ones.
Zoran Živković, born 1948
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