Magdaléna Platzová: The Attempt

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Ilana didn`t respond to my e-mails from Prague. She wrote back only once, to say that New York was buried in snow. The city had been totally quiet for two days, she said. Also, she had started going to group therapy.

I called her a few days after I got in, and she invited me over for dinner.

She lived in one of the old, well-preserved buildings near the university. Arriving there, I climbed the narrow stairway to the fourth floor and found the door to Ilana`s apartment propped open. A deep voice and laughter echoed down the corridor.

A guy stood with his arms outstretched, hanging off the door frame to the kitchen, where Ilana was apparently making food. His feet were crossed and his ass stuck out into the entryway.

His presence irritated me right away, along with his foreign-sounding Romanian and sloppy green shirt.

It was too late to turn around, though. Ilana came out of the kitchen and gave me a kiss on both cheeks.

The guy turned to me with a full black beard and a smile, holding out his pawlike hand. “Hi, I`m Marius.”

Ilana was wearing a clingy navy blue T-shirt with a low neckline and a tight black skirt. She looked thinner than I remembered. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail, with a silver chain around her neck and a red smile painted on her lips.

“Marius lives in Oregon, but he`s here at an arts center outside New York on a three-month scholarship. Can you believe it? He`s an old friend. We went to high school together.”

She clasped her arms around his waist as she spoke.

The apartment was small and dark. In one corner, there was still a stack of moving boxes. In another, there was a travel backpack, which was definitely not Ilana`s.

I noticed a piece of dark velvet hanging on the wall, with rows of earrings stuck in it, each one missing its partner.

“There was this period where I just kept finding lost earrings,” Ilana explained. “So I started collecting them, just for fun. Sort of like a diary. I still remember where I found every one.”

“I didn`t realize you had artistic ambitious.” I could hear how silly the word ambitious sounded.

“I don`t,” she said. “I just felt like it.”

“You did some nice things back in high school,” said Marius. “I remember. You used to make jewelry, and clothes, too. Some of it was pretty wild.”

“I made them because there weren`t any to buy,” said Ilana.

“Remember that time you recited your poems at the school assembly?”

Ilana gave a loud laugh. “That was embarrassing!”

“It was awesome! I can still see it. After all these neatly groomed little kids with slicked-back hair singing cute little songs, this beautiful, fragile girl walks onstage in a long black dress with bare shoulders – “

“Stop, please!”

“—and starts reciting erotic poems.”

“They were not erotic!”

“They were ecstatic,” said Marius. “I remember it well, not to mention that you gave me the poems to read later on. About how the sea was entering you, and you were dissolving, about your skin and your hair and your lips, and looking at yourself naked in the mirror. . . .”

“How do you remember all that? It was so stupid.”

“I was in love.” The big bear shrugged.

“Here, I brought some wine,” I said.

“So stupid,” Ilana repeated, handing me a full glass.

“Cheers.”

“Do you still write poems?” I asked quietly.

“No,” she said. “Luckily, I found out in time that I`m much stronger on theory.”

“So you`re from Prague?” said Marius. “I was there once. Everyone says what a beautiful city it is, but I think it`s awful. All those fancy facades and bright colors. It`s like Disneyland. Plus all the rabbis and golems. I wouldn`t be able to do anything there. I need space. I don`t care if the buildings are ugly, as long as I can see the sky. Berlin, now that`s a cool city. And it was even better before they started building it up. Or Sarajevo. Ever been there? Even nasty old Bucharest is better than Prague. You know what`s a shame? That they didn`t drop more bombs on you guys during the war. That would have cleared it out a bit. So ehat are you interested in anyway, if you don`t mind my asking?”

“Why would I mind?” This guy was obnoxious. I didn`t understand why Ilana had put me in this situation. “I`m a historian, but I`m actually more interested in the future. I feel like New York is sort of an observation tower. You climb up and you can see a long ways, maybe even to the end of the world.”

Marius snorted. “Everyone`s going on about the end of the world these days.”

“Who`s everyone?”

“Philosophers, environmentalists, artists. Everyone. It`s all the rage. If you want to make a career for yourself, just babble on about catastrophe and mix in a little Lacan, some Derrida, a drop of Levinas, and a dash of Heidegger. Marx isn`t so popular anymore, but you can`t make do without him. Nobody yet`s done a better job of describing the shit of capitalism. But don`t even mention Lenin. You won`t get tenure with him. Better off using Benjamin – you can slip him in anywhere. The only one with the balls to say how things really are, in my opinion, is Žižek. All of these protests and activists and resistance movements and neonarchists are just impotent stooges. All they do is moralize. Which is exactly what the powers that be need: moderate resistance within the bounds of the law. It gives them an alibi.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“What Žižek says. Seize control of the state and use it to change its own mechanisms. Activists always talk about change from the bottom up, but it isn`t going to happen. It never has and never will. Every revolution has started by overthrowing the state.”

“Revolution?”

“You think it`s funny?” Marius got up, went to the entryway, and dug around in his coat pocket. A moment later, he came back with a pack of cigarettes. “Mind if I light up?” Neither one of us was a smoker, but Ilana handed him an ashtray.

“Why do you think it`s funny, if you don`t mind my asking?”

“I don`t know. Who said I did?”

“you smirked, didn`t you?”

Ilana interrupted. “I just read an interesting book. It`s by an environmentalist who argues that the difference isn`t so much between people in favour of violent change and people who do nothing.”

“If you ask me, violence is inevitable.” Marius nodded.

“Unfortunately. The people who are in power are never going to give it up voluntarily. Nothing changes that way. You want to fight by writing petitions? Buying organic carrots? Recycling?”

“What do you do?”

He shrugged. “So far, I just paint. I humbly and shamefully confess I`m not blowing up dams or gunning down the heads of multinational corporations, even if they deserve it even more than the politicians they have eating out of their hands. I`m a painter. And I even admit, in my sunnier moments, I`m pretty happy with where I`m at. I`m not stuck in some stuffy academic department. I`ve got my independence. I get by the best I can, out on the street, in the mud and rain, like a dog. But it suits me. I need to feel things up close. Fight for them.”

What a clown, I thought to myself. “Didn`t you say you were here on some prestigious scholarship?”

Marius didn`t respond. Just ran a hand over the scruff on his face, smoking and staring up at the ceiling.

“But I do think,” he said, suddenly snapping back to life, “that my peaceful days are over. When it comes to some things, art just isn`t enough.”

Ilana opened another bottle of wine. We hadn`t even eaten yet.

“So it`s really all going to end in catastrophe?” Ilana asked. “Is that the way it has to be?”

She turned on the radio, smooth jazz. “Jan`s studying the history of anarchism,” she said. “I`ve given it some thought. And I agree it`s tempting. It would be so wonderful. But I just can`t bring myself to believe people are actually capable of becoming independent-minded enough to decide for themselves. Most people want to obey authority. They`d rather keep doing the same thing than try to break their habits. Free man is just an illusion.”

“Free man is an ideal,” I said. “Either you believe in it or you don`t. But maybe the point is just to admit that it isn`t always the greediest and the strongest who win, the ones who consume and destroy the most. The future actually favors people who can cooperate and build something over the long term. The point is to start thinking about how to make this model work. Can it? Maybe. Nobody yet has proved otherwise.”

Marius nodded. “American democracy is the biggest scam of all. Saying you can decide everything for yourself, but the moment you step even just a little out of line, poof, that`s it. This system`s got about as much compassion as old Ceauşescu has. Just look at the people riding the subway home from work. They don`t give a damn. All tuned out with their headphones and earbuds. Blank looks. Running on empty. Get home and turn on the TV. What is that if not totalitarian? The final stage of brainwashing. And then there`s China, my friends. We can build whatever we want here, but they`re still going to have the last laugh. Maybe they`ll keep a few high-minded Westerners, for observation and entertainment`s sake, just as proof of our failed experiment.”

I left around two in the morning. Marius stayed. Ilana walked me downstairs so she could unlock the front door. When we got to th second floor, I suddenly blurted out that I had left my phone upstairs. I sprinted back up the steps to her apartment. It was hanging there in the entryway. His brown leather jacket. I gathered up my saliva, spit on the sheepskin collar, and quietly closed the door behind me.

Back downstairs, I got a kiss on each cheek and stepped outside into the freezing rain.

I needed to cool off, co I walked the whole way home.

Translated by Alex Zucker