In a proper and coherent preface, with a sensible title Word before – Word after, Ana Blandiana tells the story of her latest book in lavish detail. It was written more than 30 years ago, in the strict time period from August 31, 1988 to December 12, 1989. A book which, at the time its contents were put to paper, could not hope to ever see the light of day.

More than the past (Publishing house Humanitas, Bucharest, 2023) is neither a new novel nor a new volume of poetry. At the time that what is now contained between the covers of the enormous volume (over 530 pages) was put to paper, Ana Blandiana was the author included in the index. Even the right to think about a possible publication was stolen from him. For the simple and tragic reason (a tragedy that has become commonplace in totalitarian Romania) that the notes of his rule, almost daily notes, then constituted what I would call a ban diary. Personal ban. National ban. Prohibition of free thinking.

More specifically. On the evening of August 31, 1988, Ana Blandiana learns that her column with Literary Romania (a heading that already had a certain history) was banned. The writer was actually deprived of the right to sign (ban Literary Romania being only the painful tip of the iceberg) because someone from the highest spheres, from the highest spheres of political censorship, thought that Blandiana had jumped the horse again. He committed a real crime of blade majesty in the volume Events on my streettherefore in which, sub obvious a harmless mask of an arpagic motan, he himself would be a caricature The most beloved son of the people. The same one who, albeit indirectly, will one way or another become the main character of today’s book. A character to whom all the others, however close they may be, from Romulus Rusan, husband of the writer Geta, sister and chief confidant, mother of Mrs. Otilia Coman, to those at the opposite pole, like, say, Gheorghe Redulescu, D R. Popescu, Ion Horea or Comrade Sonia (the luxuriously detailed description of the meeting with her seems to me one of the strengths of the book, as it is symptomatic of the entire intellectual life, the absurdity in Romania during the last years of the dictatorship) are only performers of secondary roles. Because, whether we like it or not, from March 1965 to December 1989, Ceausescu, being an exponential product of Soviet-style communism, from the essence of which, apart from his demonstrable dissent, the dictator did not deviate one iota, ruled and raped. our entire existence.

Because Ceausescu was everywhere, and his presence became even more violent in the last communist decade (everything was related to what he does and what he thinks or what Savanta still wants over time), this omnipresence is also felt in Ana’s diary Blandians

He appeared on television, giving valuable guidance on how to provide for the population of all. And this despite all kinds of obvious disadvantages, which materialize in queues for food, gas or bottles, in a rush for bread or in search of laundry, in the absence of writing paper, ink or a ballpoint pen. He embodied himself in the double game of D. R. Popescu or Gheorghe Radulescu, in the black car that hangs every day in front of the house where the Rusan family lived, in the security microphones, in the fear of Josip Sava or Radu Enescu, in the dramatic disagreement of Mircea Dinescu or in the tragic Doina Cornea, in the uprising with question marks by Dan Deschlu or in the uprising of Aurel Dragos Munteanu. And, of course, in the prohibition of the right to publish. Where did the notes in the notebooks begin, which meant either the minutes of years finally lost, or the years stolen from creativity (the diary crosses out the obsession with the need to write), then the replacement of real literary creativity, then portrait of the era. As it was imposed, it was outlined from different points of observation. Mainly from Bucharest, subject to destruction, deprivation and mutilation of all kinds, or Comani, which had become a place of imperfect refuge. But also from Oradea, the city of periodic rediscoveries of the mother and, of course, childhood and youth, perhaps even hope (another anthological sequence of a meeting with former colleagues, a meeting on the occasion of the 30th anniversary of graduating from high school), as well as a city where magazine appeared Family, the only one in which the poet published without giving a name, and this is thanks to Dumitr Kiril, also from Cluj. The city of students and strong friendship. Mainly the one with the Ion Pop.

These notations are found, saved by the condition forgotten pages, censored pages, pages exiled (it is interesting that the diary avoids directly indicating the name of a Free Europe, preferring the formula radio), are now revealed. After reading them, thirty years later with the well-known surprise of Ana Blandiana herself. The passage of time has not diminished their influence. Vice versa. Their content today looks even more depressing. This unreality of the real, described in sumptuous detail by Ana Blandiana, refuses or should refuse to forget a priori. This permanently suspends the right to amnesia. Undoubtedly, the times were unreal. Their incredible absurdity. Because how could anyone imagine today, someone whose existence began after December 1989, that in 1988 one of the most famous Romanian writers was denied the right to publish his new works, but his older works could be referenced? And not anywhere. But even in Romania How could a sane mind today understand that an entire system was set in motion to peddle rumors to justify the lack of a signature? That the order said that Blandiana remained abroad, or that she was seriously ill, or that she was no longer well?

Of course, as the author herself admitted in a long interview recently published by the publication Hot newsfor the younger generation More than the past may seem a book full of brilliance. Only with total madness it was not, it is not a book, but such were the times in which it was written. Publishing it now, following Adrian Marino’s model, leaving clear instructions about when it goes public The life of a lonely person, Ana Blandiana took a significant risk. Like a large number of those whose names appear in the book, with mention of their real dissents, of long-term or only momentary heroics, if not merely opportunistic and rather verbal or (perhaps) censored a little too hastily, out of a lack of guild solidarity, the fear of gatherings deemed inappropriate because of some perceived future inconvenience and security concerns, with the display of selfishness that does not pale in the face of fellow suffering, the discourse that is obsessively maintained in the first person, even when the sentence and context said otherwise, side reactions are not excluded at all. Reactions of rejection, violent denial. Ignore. Or created in late excuses. So I confess from now on to my curiosity about the number of reviews or chronicles the book will have.

I admit. It is not comfortable at all, it is not comfortable at all to face the compromises of the past. Admitting your cowardice is far from easy. It is about the feelings that Ana Blandiana herself experiences in real time. A sense of recognition as such. The author herself consistently goes through the pangs of conscience associated with the impossibility of refusing invitations and staying in the company of a certain Gogu Redulescu. Ana Blandiana acknowledges the ubiquity of suspicion towards others, but I am very afraid that in the regime-imposed grammar of everyday existence, the cultivation of suspicion, fear, caution towards others has functioned as a rule of life. Be that as it may, leaning towards self-observation, self-analysis, detailing the springs of relations with mother or sister, in my opinion, is the advantage of the book.

More than the past this is not just any diary. This is a 2023 book, I think. Or one of them. – Read the entire article and comment on Contributors.ro