THAT YOU ARE WATERY WORDS AND UNTO DUSTY WORDS YOU SHALL RETURN
The Luck of the Slavs: Discover New Brutal Dreamers!
(West of Hell: Cold River)
Cast your minds back to the
late 1970s when
West German and
Austrian journalists began to spot an interesting trend. A new series of risky escapes across the Iron Curtain had captured the hearts of the newspaper readers' with the consequence that - shock horror! - youth of Eastern Europe actually risked their lives in order to be free.
Czechoslovak's experience was simple: by
1977 the internal crisis of the totalitarian system grew so deep that it became clear to everyone, and when more and more young people learned to speak their own language and rejected the hollow, mendacious language of the powers that be, it meant that freedom seemed remarkably close, if not directly within reach. As soon as the theme of the
Charter 77 spread through pubs, it seemed that the king was naked and the mysterious radiant energy that came from the charter turned out to be more powerful than the strongest army, police force, or party organization, stronger than the greatest power of a centrally directed and centrally devastated economy, or of the centrally controlled and centrally enslaved media.
What communists all had in common was the apparent need to steal extra priviledges, such as access to goods sold at tuzex shops, and to acquire amazing amount of power for doing whatever it was Husaks of our world did.
Meanwhile, many samizdat newsletters repeated the words of their teachers, such as Marta Chamillova:
If you want to set something afire, you must burn yourself. Censored letters from my two exiled aunties, French Zofka and West German Otka, eroded some of the myths and told many fascinating stories betwen the lines. At the heart of all oppression lies the abuse of freedom. My parents were denied the opportunity to visit their sisters living in the West. Lacking the protection of procommunist family, I have experienced what it was like to be taken for a slave.
Crossing the Iron Curtain in '1980' was Our Final Distinction From '1984.'
This morning I was thinking about what the Spirit would have me say to you, and thoughts just started pouring out. Rather than link you to articles of ironic note, I would say this:
Some stories have no market value. They only have value. I hope Cold River is one of those with historical value...
Jozef Imrich is the least marketable storyteller in 2003 AD:
I apologize for the abruptness of this declaration, its lack of nuance, of any meaning besides the intuitive; but the plain truth is that the rhythms of the web strengened the noncommercial value of Cold River.
By most accounts, Cold River was something of an accident.
The gestation has been long, full of surprises, occasionally painful, always engaging. At last, a butterfly has emerged - alive, needy, beautiful. To me, it felt like renewal.
I cannot recall when I have had more fear or felt more uncertain then when I took my family on the writer's journey to Queensland. I came to subtropical country in 2000 as it seemed an embodiment of what a survivor/writer like me needed. Sydney is a hard place to write in. It is too exile friendly. Coming to redneck Queensland, where nobody cared whether I lived or died, was a great thing for a writer. You need a certain amount of isolation.
A mystifying development took place because there is no known engine driving the word of email of Cold River. This was a complete fluke. It got there by sheer luck -- no promo, no nothing... No Media connection.
We all know the story of waiting and how the forbidding-looking guard in Kafka's
The Trial stands at the door to The Law and who tells the poor supplicant at the end of his life that the door had been his to pass through had he tried. My doorman stood at the door to The Publisher and addressed me unambiguously in my midlife and for that I owe him Cold River.
"Open it," he told me. And somehow interpreted the strange signs for me. "Go ahead, my boy, this door is intended for you. It's your door to open. Open it."
On an otherwise quiet day in June 2002,
an angel of the Sydney Morning Herald fame opened my email and pre reviewed my book.
I'm beyond flattered that
ABC Tales gave me some oxygen in London.
Amazing characters like
James Cumes and
Vaclav Havel endorsed
Cold River in Vienna, Monaco and Prague.
Cold River: a survivor's story champions a hot award winning cover designed by my Canadian publisher
Deron Douglas. Fictionwise boasts ever growing and compelling ebook and paperback collection written by
Authors at the DDP
The rising tide of the tragic Cold War River lifted all the boats. However, receding rivers of freedom revealed who has been swimming naked. And what a lot of unattractive nudity there has been following the
Velvetish Revolution...