Uzkost

About a book

DENISA

FULMEKOVÁ

Anxiety

Original title: Úzkosť

Genre: novel

Slovak edition: Slovart

CONTENT

The Slovak author's novella brings a fragmentary narration of Arleta, who realizes that she is beyond the imaginary half of her life. She took on many roles in it - for example, she is a mother, wife, daughter, friend, writer. Outwardly, she is identified with them, although there are also moments when she gets the feeling that this or that role exceeds her limits. She admits that just as she is hurt by various situations, she is also hurt in others. Arleta slowly grows the determination to put aside all the masks because she wants to know the truth. What about the fact that it finally takes the form of increasingly noticeable cracks? Now it's Arleta's job to find the courage to stop hiding them.

REVIEWS

“Writers often admit that they put a lot of themselves and their lives into their characters. We can only guess to what extent Arlet's life corresponds to the authors. She does not hide that the story is partly autobiographical and at the same time universal. I am Arleta, you are Arleta, she is Arleta, we all find a piece of ourselves in Arleta. The story is believable to the last word, many readers will find themselves in it. And although it is about the fears and anxieties of the female protagonist, it will be an interesting read for men as well. Perhaps in Arleta they will recognize their wives and girlfriends, perhaps they will be able to understand them better, and many of them will find themselves in the text, because no matter how heroic men appear, they cannot escape the fear of aging and death either.”

Ivana Zacharová, Literát.sk

“In her new book Anxiety (Slovart), the author advanced to the present and to herself. However, he writes about the same, essential, meaning of life. Here, too, he states that a person cannot escape from the time in which he is destined to live. If the time of the covid pandemic falls on him, he will be experiencing covid. He may babble, but he will not escape from the collective fate and isolation at the same time. The main character of the novel, Arleta, is also forced to stay at home during the pandemic, but the health quarantine is not the main theme of the novel. It is the isolation of the soul. Fulmeková writes about anxiety, which invades the soul like a virus. It is the covid silence that gives a glimpse into the most mysterious feelings and thoughts of a person. Arleta is also subject to this, but, strangely, she views her life more and more critically. In quarantine, he sees connections, mistakes, and positives more clearly. It turns out that anxiety can also be a driving force. It provokes reflection, it leads to greater sovereignty, because it seems to a person that he has nothing left to lose. He can only make angry now. And Arleta is angry too. And she wants the truth.“

Helena Dvořáková, Pravda

EXTRACT

In the morning, she fastens her skirt easily, her waist has two or three centimeters to spare, but around noon she feels that even this piece of clothing is basically too tight for her. It is quite possible that internal anxiety correlates with clothing anxiety. The body is a bubbling colossus in constant motion, even during sleep, but perhaps we don't need to be reminded of that. Everything is always moving towards change, change ultimately towards extinction.

It was amazing when her breasts started to grow! Or another time when she felt the baby move inside her for the first time. Now she is facing a set of changes that we call aging, but she is no longer fascinated by her own body. With a little luck, she will be happy if she is not disgusted by looking in the mirror. At first, he will make excuses - that belly is only big from lunch, from hormones, maybe it's not that big. Oh, apologies. You have to accept them, because as the new teacher said, we understand each other, we are people after all. In the end, you'll get rid of them. The unwarranted and inexcusable destruction of the body will set off at an unseemly pace. But at least she remembers how her ethnologist friend once told her about the research she was doing among village women somewhere in a hidden corner of the country. "And when did you have menopause, when did you miss your period, how did your body change, what did you notice?" asked the scientist, and the women did not remember any of it exactly. They didn't have it coded that something important should change, that they should feel discomfort, rushes, that they should worry, that they should not shake into the clothes of their youth. Maybe they were naive, maybe they had a very poor knowledge of the basics of human anatomy and somehow also neglected preventive examinations, but they had something that Arleta did not - holy peace.

"Don't be egotistical!" an old woman with putrid breath admonished her once in the elevator. It was unwarranted, as her reproach arose from the feeling that Arlette's grandfather, whom she was accompanying, was leaning on the greater part of the horizontal bar serving as a support. Grandfather seemed to have overlooked the old woman, as if she was not angry with him, even though he was the cause of her fear of losing her balance. "Don't be an egoist" - it sounds in Arleta's ears even years later, but not as an imperative or as a warning, not even as some random prophecy, a piece of advice that she would have gone to that building for. The old woman's sentence hit her like you catch a child doing something. It doesn't matter what, overwhelming the child with reproaches is the easiest thing. In fact, it seemed that she was caught alive, since the elevator was in a facility for seriously ill seniors, and the old woman had a good idea of who was being taken where and how much support they had.

Yesterday, the vendor at the market forgave her twelve cents.

"I have, wait," she rummaged through the coins.

"Oh, let it be," he waved, handing her the purchased fruit.

"Well, thank you," she replied humbly for the forgiven cents. The mechanism of forgiveness is surprisingly simple, this is how it should work for everything, Arleta comes to mind and imagines who could possibly forgive her and what. But when she turns it around and tries to bear without reproaching her husband that, even though she warned him several times, she keeps putting wooden cutting boards in the dishwasher, and they then twist and crack, it doesn't work. "How many times do I have to tell you to wash it by hand?!"

By the time the purchase reaches home, it is, of course, only in the mind, it is finished to a condescending indifference: "Put whatever you want in the dishwasher, but then I will buy lots of cutting boards. And scoops," he proves in his mind, because the man also destroys cookware in the dishwasher. The influx of new shovels and cooks would not be to her taste, because wooden utensils could last a lifetime. After all, how battered and fried those were in grandma's kitchen! She even told her about the wide wooden flour scoop that she still had from her mother.

But there are things that will not pass through the bottleneck of approval. After all, not everything revolves around shopping or kitchen utensils. And then a person lies in a coffin, that is, if historical and family circumstances come together in such a way that it is even possible to organize a funeral, and everything is left behind - anger at the partner for his unsparing treatment of the dishes, for late arrivals, for failed friends and others , which is picked up once or twice, you don't have to live with someone for decades to be just as easily pissed off at them.

As you get older, you close more chapters than you open. You know that some things are already passe for you. And people too. A few friendships are in trouble, a few acquaintances turn their eyes on the street, and even if you greet them first without any problems, they won't give you a chance. Several people, including your peers, whom you knew and loved, have already died, although so far these are rather sad exceptions.