OCTOBER 1855
October 15th. I’m not entirely sure whether today is October 15th. My mother was born on this day. I stopped writing a diary when we reached the settlement. I don’t know where to begin, to tell the truth. She was born in Casalvieri, near Rome. A few weeks ago I had a dream that she was dead. She was lying on a bed in a black dress with her hands clasped, there were candles burning and three old ladies I didn’t recognize sitting around her on chairs. I was standing at her bedside when all of a sudden she opened her eyes and put her finger to her lips. Then she stood up and beckoned to me to follow her. The weepers sat in their chairs whispering to one another and didn’t notice a thing. My mother walked out of the building, I wanted to join her, but she was always six or seven steps ahead, even when I went faster to try and keep up with her. Then we came to a cemetery, my mother stopped, and I approached her but I couldn’t touch her. My mother pointed to a grave and said, Here is where I live now and then she pointed to another and said, Here is where you live, now we’ll be able to see each other more often. I tried to take her hand but to no avail. Then she began slowly to sink into the earth, but she didn’t seem frightened, or even surprised, she looked at me seriously, perhaps even a little sternly, as she vanished into the earth, and when all that was still peeking out was her head, she closed her eyes and vanished completely. This is our sixth month here now. Decio came back to the settlement with an axe and tried to chop down the flagpole in the courtyard with the red-and-black flag flying from it. He had a dozen former settlers and a few Indians with him, one of them kept grinning and waving his machete. Almost all of them were drunk.
About the Author and the Translator
PATRIK OUŘEDNÍK was born in Prague, but moved to France in 1984, where he still lives. He is the author of twelve books, including fiction, essays, and poems. He is also the Czech translator of novels, short stories, and plays from such writers as François Rabelais, Alfred Jarry, Raymond Queneau, Samuel Beckett, and Boris Vian. He has received a number of prizes for his writing, including the Czech Literary Fund Award.
ALEX ZUCKER won the 2010 National Translation Award for All This Belongs to Me, by Petra Hůlová. City Sister Silver, his translation of Jáchym Topol’s first novel, was selected for inclusion in 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die.