Németh's Revulsion: An Exploration Of Fate And Human Nature?

Anna Poszmik
Naked Reality: Hungarian Prose in Translation

Revulsion: An Exploration of Fate and Human Nature

Lászlo Németh’s Revulsion is characterized in Hungarian literature as a “tudatregény”, a name that doesn’t lend itself easily to English translation. This genre refers to the archetypal nature of its characters, in the consistency and homogeneity of their minds. Revulsion is narrated by Nelli Kárász, a woman forced into an unwanted marriage by the father she idolizes and a sense of obligation to her ailing mother. Nelli embodies a few basic traits such as sensitivity, dignity and seriousness that govern most of her actions. This one-sidedness, however, is juxtaposed with and explored in such meticulous detail that she is in no way
perceived as a simple or simplified character. Characters in mythological narratives share this monochromatic quality. Myths have often been used to depict behavioral paradigms and convey ideology in anecdotal form. Mythological archetypes serve to create models that exemplify a typical human experience, and thereby many subjects can be patterned on the themes that they utilize. In the myth of Actaeon and Artemis, the virginal and ruthless Artemis destroys Actaeon for the transgression of laying eyes on her. A similar fate befalls Nelli’s husband, Sányi, when she ultimately murders him for his attempts to possess her. Németh employs this mythological model in Revulsion to create a complex commentary on fate, inevitability, and the relationship between men and women.
Mythological stories employ archetypal characters to create tales with widely applicable themes.
In addition to Nelli and Sányi, all of the characters in Revulsion share a monochromatic quality and are easily divided into archetypal groups. Nelli, her father, her Aunt Szeréna, and Sányi’s mother, the characters with whom Nelli feels a kinship, are all portrayed as silent, dignified and solitary. Sányi, Nelli’s mother, and the townsfolk are depicted as superficial, empty, and morally bankrupt. This structuring of the characters lends itself to a sense of inevitability, thus giving the novel a gravity that transcends time and circumstance, akin to mythological stories. Through Nelli and her relationships, Németh depicts solitude as essential for integrity and self-awareness. Despite the tension that is often caused by the alienation of the more thoughtful characters, they reveal a profound capacity for empathy and morality that the other characters seem to lack. This can be seen in the silent bond between Nelli and her father (Németh 61), the understanding between Nelli and Aunt Szeréna (Németh 408), the reverence of Aunt Szeréna by her sisters (Németh 412), and Mrs. Takaró’s unquestioning love for her sons (Németh 312). On the other hand, Németh portrays the social relationships and “worldliness” of the remaining characters as a façade for their lack of depth. Sányi, his friends, and the townspeople embody these qualities. Their social gatherings are vain, ostentatious, and
symptomatic of their failure to truly connect with one other (Németh 322). Nelli reflects on the shallowness of the attendees at these social functions, “So that is how a woman exercises her power? She puts on her dress, lights up the filament inside herself, says nothing and smiles,” (Németh 334). Although Nelli often blames her need for solitude as the source of conflict, Németh’s disdainful illustration of typical human interaction suggests otherwise. Her psychological state is not represented as baneful but rather as necessary for integrity and depth of character. Through this representation, Nelli is not a typical female but instead becomes an archetype of female sanctity. That she is not like other women is emphasized throughout the novel when she is unable to identify with most other female characters, and does not fulfill the male characters’ expectations of women. At the end of the novel, her strangeness and remoteness is clearly articulated when she reflects:
“People who are made the way I am should not be forced to enter into conditions of life which they dread. The Ancients had good reason for appointing a number of their women nuns and priestesses. They spent their days withdrawn from the world in the silence of a sacred grove, where they served the mysterious gods of nature and interpreted their ways to man. It is a sacrilege to force such women to take the plunge in the muddy waters of humanity for no better reason than to be mad to appear normal. Where chastity combines with dread to oppose the world it must remain inviolate, for it is protected by a higher law. And if such virginity is taken by force it will revenge itself: it will tear at its chains like an outraged angel—shrinking from nothing, not even murder—until the chains break and it is free again” (Németh 540).
In this passage, the way that she communicates her nature is more mythical than human. Specifically, she distinguishes herself from mankind and places herself in a realm above human condemnation. Through this passage, Nelli’s character embodies not the role of a usual woman, but rather a transcendent element of the female spirit. It is for this reason that she compares herself to a pagan priestess, and why she cannot be judged by typical human standards.
Beyond the use of monochromatic characters to give Revulsion its mythical quality, Németh reimagines thematic and plot-based elements from the myth of Artemis and Actaeon.
In the myth, Actaeon stumbles upon Artemis bathing on Mount Cithaeron and inadvertently beholds her physical form, becoming awestruck by her beauty. As the protector of virginity, it is impermissible for any man to possess her image. For this transgression, she punishes him mercilessly: he is turned into a stag to be hunted and killed by his own hunting dogs. Sányi similarly strives to possess Nelli, which is seen when he tells her that the more withdrawn she is, “the sweeter it will be when I finally take her in my arms and press her to me,” (Németh 333). Nelli’s aversion to him and need for freedom make her repulsed by even the most innocent of his affections, and she is paranoid about his intentions from the beginning of their relationship. She reflects that she often felt, “from the back of his adoring eyes a cunning fox was leering at [her],” (Németh 158), and describes her experience with love as “the vulgar man’s desire to slobber all over his wife, to soften her up and make her more docile,” (Németh 410). A healthy relationship between them becomes obviously impossible when Nelli explains that, even when she was happy, simply that Sányi was “laying claim to [her]” felt like something “dark and heavy” bearing down upon her (Németh 157). Both Sányi and Actaeon become unwitting victims of the
heroines’ pride and purity. Nelli and Artemis, both considering themselves above moral condemnation, are merciless in their retribution. Nelli justifies murdering Sányi as inevitable, “like a branch forced back under tension unleashing itself when the tension proves too great,” (Németh 511). In both the myth and the novel, the females regain their sanctity only once the offending male has been destroyed. Artemis cannot allow Actaeon to return to the world of mortals and recount what he had witnessed, while Nelli can no longer withstand the oppressive weight of her marriage on her yearning for solitude. In this way, female beauty is illustrated as something that cannot be possessed and has the power to snare and destroy those who attempt to do so. While Actaeon becomes a stag, Sányi becomes a semblance of his former self as he is worn away by the ruthlessness of his wife.
Even if we respect Nelli’s and Artemis’s right to seclusion and deem it violated by the male characters, Sányi and Actaeon’s demise are the result of fate rather than their guilt. While Actaeon’s crime is truly accidental, the harm that Sányi causes Nelli is similarly unintentional. He attempts to be a good husband to her insofar as he as capable, for example when he buys her a new furniture set for their home. Nelli had complained that she felt embarrassed by the state of their worn furniture, but only becomes more angry with Sányi for wasting money (Németh 365). A happy marriage between them is impossible, not because Sányi is necessarily a bad husband, but because his actions have ultimately little bearing on Nelli’s interpretation of them: her need for solitude cannot be resolved within their marriage. While Nelli finds Sányi intolerable, she feels disdain for him and not venom, which speaks to his innocence (Németh 540). Accordingly, Sányi’s death at the end of Revulsion is not justified by his guilt, but is instead an inevitability of their relationship. Németh creates a closed system in which contrast is the basis of their relationship. The discord between Nelli and Sányi serves as a thread throughout the story that determines the outcome of their interactions. We do not condemn Sányi for the failures of their marriage because antagonism is implicit between them: Sányi cannot possibly make Nelli happy in virtue of his role as her husband. In this way, the tragedy of Revulsion is a consequence of fate. Sányi does not understand Nelli and inadvertently pushes her to the limits of her endurance in a marriage doomed to fail. He is as oblivious to the path he is on as Actaeon traipsing on Mount Cithaeron. Ovid highlights the misfortune when he says, "Actaeon, wandering through the unknown woods, entered the precincts of that sacred grove; with steps uncertain wandered he as fate directed.”
While the myth of Artemis and Actaeon is a tale of fate, it also speaks to the interaction of man with femininity. Artemis, goddess of the hunt and virgin purity, is both beautiful and ruthless, a duality embodied by Nelli. Sányi and his friends admire her beauty, and she is often needlessly cruel when she feels slighted. Nelli admits that she begins to enjoy fighting with Sányi and finds any excuse to do so (Németh 394). Despite her open contempt and brashness, Sányi continues to praise and admire her. For example, when Sányi praises Nelli for cooking food he likes, she declines his appreciation and says his mother had told her to do so. He disregards her rebuffs, saying that she “refuses to admit that it was her own goodness of heart that prompted her to it,” (Németh 313). Psychiatrist Carl Jung attributed this dynamic to what he called the anima, man’s projection of feminine characteristics onto women. He put forth that men unconsciously infuse and distort their perception of women with internalized notions of femininity. As reflections of themselves rather than of the women onto whom they are projected, these distortions tend to be emotionally charged and thereby men are inclined to idolize women. Nelli acknowledges this tendency in Sányi at the opening of the novel, when she says, “no matter how confused and involved—and often evil—my mental state became, he always put the most benevolent interpretation upon it,” (Németh 8). In this vein, Sányi misinterprets Nelli’s contempt and inaccessibility as evidence of a noble and feminine character. Even as Nelli’s behavior becomes increasingly punishing, he persists in his delusions. Nelli is taken aback by the extent of his misunderstandings when Sányi, reflecting on their past, says he remembers that she used to be happy and would even “smile to [herself] without any reason,” (Németh 391). As her memories of their marriage are explicitly unhappy, his statement serves to show how distorted Sányi’s understanding of his wife is. As a symbol of purity, Artemis embodies this dichotomy. She appeals to the male fascination with chastity, but is inaccessible by her nature and offers only an image that is sexualized by men, rather than inherently sexual. Artemis personifies the anima when Actaeon accidentally happens upon her and, mesmerized by her beauty, sexualizes the virginal purity that she embodies. Likewise, when Nelli dresses up to garner the attention of Sányi’s friends, she is only a likeness of sexuality. The femininity that the male characters perceive exists only superficially, and is not representative of her true nature. She reiterates her disinterest in sex throughout the novel, her virginal nature apparent when she uses the analogy of undergoing amputation without an anesthetic to describe her anxiety about having sex (Németh 206). Despite her obvious aversion and asexual character, Sányi continues to pursue her sexually.
Nelli defies both the anima and archetypal model, despite only a few dominant traits driving her actions. Nelli is a complicated character with a rich and complex internal life. Her marriage to Sányi is motivated by a feeling of obligation to her parents: to her father who wants to know she will be taken care of once he passes away, and to her mother who is sickly and cannot care for herself. Although Nelli yearns only for solitude, she sacrifices her self-determination, explaining that her sense of duty was a force that had “broken [her],” (Németh 154). While she suffers through a marriage that leaves her “without a single healthy thought,” (Németh 410), Nelli displays her admirable qualities by maintaining dignity and nobility. She upholds her dignity by being dutiful and hardworking, shown in the way that she takes care of their home and Sányi. She spends her days tending to their farm, renovating their home, and cooking their meals (Németh 207). We see the depth of her goodwill and industriousness when she remodels the rooms in their house so that her mother can have her own bedroom instead of sleeping on the sofa (Németh 209). When Sányi’s father dies, she dutifully moves to his farm in the village and immediately assumes responsibility over cooking, cleaning, and farm work (Németh 308). We also glimpse Nelli’s nobility, often coupled with remoteness, through her internal dialogue and interactions with other characters. Unable to understand Mrs. Takaró’s blindness to Sányi’s character, Nelli reflects on her own daughter, saying that if “somebody with a more noble character were to look upon [Zsuzsi] as a frivolous creature with no more to recommend her than her physical charms,” she would not be insulted (Németh 312). Nelli prefaces this statement with love for Zsuzsi. Her judgments of others are not condemnations but rather come from the perspective of her elevated character. Her remoteness, a consequence of her noble quality, gives Nelli a deistic quality that enables her to objectively observe those around her.
Németh employs traits of the mythological narrative to give Revulsion its transcendental quality. Despite the monochromatic nature of the characters, Németh brings them to life through detailed descriptions of their inner workings, true to the genre of “tudatregény”. The marked qualities of his characters are not psychologically justified but rather portrayed as immutable aspects of their core being. The dissolution of Nelli and Sányi’s marriage is similarly based in the conflicting constitutions of their essences, and is therefore inevitable. Environment and circumstance play little role in the outcome of the story, giving Revulsion its timelessness. There is no temporal or spatial setting in which Nelli and Sányi could have had a successful and happy marriage. Using this technique, alongside an analysis of the myth of Artemis and Actaeon, we get a thought-provoking commentary on human nature, fate, and the dynamic between men and women. Németh defies the human urge to seek causal links and explanations, leaving the reader unsure of where to place the blame in the tragic fate of his characters. Was Sányi culpably insensitive? Was Nelli too severe in her punishment, or were her actions an unavoidable consequence of her nature? These questions echo the fundamentally human pursuit of self-awareness, an understanding of how in control we are of ourselves.