The Door by Magda Szabó (1987)

 I'm not sure I have the full measure of this, so will have to follow my nose, and see. It has become in recent years by far her most known and respected novel. Sadly a good amount of its uptick, and the concomitant raising of her other works, has come about after her death in 2007. It's a very concentrated story of the people of a street in Budapest, centred around a "writer lady" who seems like she would be similar to Szabó herself, and another local woman, Emerence Szeredás, who is an older powerhouse who manages a great many things in the neighbourhood, like sweeping the streets and snow clearance, as well as providing home help either to those in need or those who hire her as their help. Emerence is the clear centre of the piece, with a character built up of toughness, not-to-be-fooledness, decided opinions, fearless speaking, love of animals, enormous capabilities, and intense secrecy regarding her own private life and home. The writer lady would like to hire her early on, but, to all extents and purposes, has to pass the Emerence-examination in order to be allowed to. Thankfully from a practical point of view for her, she benefits enormously from this arrangement, and her life runs somewhat smoothly. Any rumples in the fabric come from the two women slowly getting to know each other: the writer lady's ego, assumptions and pretensions and Emerence's harsh criticisms, differing tastes and wish to control. The slow knowing also reveals quite a bit of Emerence's story in bursts: she comes from the country, had a horrifying family experience in childhood which included the death of very young twin siblings, was engaged to be married but it never eventuated, never got along with her wider family, was governess-assistant to a wealthy Jewish family just before the war, ended up looking after their youngest daughter when everything went haywire during it, lost her faith. In the time of the story, she's become both a proud woman and a secretive one, making sure, both in speech or by unopposable action, that people both know what she thinks, and don't know anything she doesn't want them to. The writer lady tells us that she's furious with Emerence at points all throughout the early part of the book, but somehow Emerence always wins, is right, knows best, and makes sure she knows it. The writer lady is really the only other character we get to know at all fully, but there're quite a few gaps in that story. There are several other people of the street and area who play smaller parts with occasional quirks. All of them meet both Emerence and each other at various times on Emerence's porch - she's very clear that no-one comes inside. There are seats there, and drinks and food served, and jobs done - it's actually quite a welcoming place where some of the gears of the neighbourhood are engaged and decisions made. This house/apartment becomes the focus of the latter part of the novel. Emerence is getting older, and finally relents at a particular juncture, bringing the writer lady into the house when no-one else is about. She sees how ordinary everything is, apart from the sealed room behind a cabinet - and nine cats! Emerence has always a sense of domineering commonality with animals, and these she has rescued from the streets. She becomes ill, tries to continue her obsessive levels of work in the area, out in all weathers sweeping and clearing. Eventually she retires to her home, unable to continue and wanting to be left alone to get well again. By this time the writer lady is strongly associated with her by the community, and there is acknowledgement by her that there is a bond of love between them, despite the spits and sours of the relationship. But Emerence rebuffs not only all other comers, but also the writer lady, yelling through the door to leave her alone. The community grow increasingly worried. Emerence's speech seems slurred. There's a strange smell coming from under the door. Having promised on her visit inside to look after Emerence's affairs and the cats if anything happens, the writer lady feels responsible. At an impossible point, where it's clear something needs to happen, but not able to get in, she has to "betray" Emerence by enlisting the local authority to break down the door. Inside is a horrible stinking mess of rotting food which had been brought over prior weeks to succour Emerence, the mess of eight cats and the body of the ninth, also rotting. Emerence has clearly had a stroke, has soiled herself continually, and is in a dreadful state, barely conscious. It's like a nightmare. She is taken off to hospital and not expected to survive. Her astonishing strength wells up under care and her mind clears. Given her pride and privacy, it is thought better for the writer lady to tell her lies, saying that the apartment is all tidied up, and back to its usual hyper-clean state, the cats all well and cared for there - everything waiting for her return. The reality is very different - the apartment has had to be decontaminated, all the furniture and belongings burnt in the yard, the cats darted out the door when it was broken in and have never been seen again. But, most importantly, all this has happened in the full view of the community. If these details were known by her, the sense of betrayal and shame could very well kill Emerence. Contrary to expectations, she continues to improve mentally. Eventually, the doctor of the hospital explains that he can no longer justify keeping Emerence in their care. She needs to be found a home. Of course, Emerence is thinking that she'll return to her treasured original home with extra help. It is decided that, as she is now at her healthiest since the disaster, she must be told the truth. This happens, against the writer lady's best instincts, but she is dismissed by a local controller as not understanding how strong and reasonable Emerence is. The effect is much as the writer lady has feared. Emerence's feeling of collapse of pride and betrayal drives a knife between them, and another of their angry scenes develops, but in an atmosphere of resignation for the writer lady, the expectation softening the blow a little. By this time she is exhausted. Having parted in anger, it seems they may never patch things up. Then Emerence has another stroke and dies. The writer lady has circled back to the first page - where she explained that she feels that she, in some senses, was responsible for Emerence's death. There follow a few short chapters speaking, almost hollowly, about the consequences and last efforts resulting from her end. The funeral is held; much against Emerence's wishes, it is a religious one. The writer lady is named in Emerence's will as the inheritor of the contents of her locked room - this is finally opened and revealed to be, as expected, part of the gorgeous furniture of Emerence's Jewish employers before the war, saved from destruction by her. Once the dust has settled, one of the close company of characters is chosen as Emerence's replacement in the community and her building. Another, who had "disgraced" herself in making an offer for this position while Emerence was still in hospital, is, in a last twist, taken on by the writer lady as her new help, despite initial loathing, because of her practical hard-working similarity to Emerence, but also her lack of secrets and "temperament". The anticipation/fear of death works strongly in this - in an emotional range from the personal, gritty here and now back to the political maelstrom and uncertainty engendered by the war. The concentration on key characters means that all life outside their orbit is necessarily a blur. Both the main characters are very flawed, and seen only in their relation to each other and a small set around them - parts of their lives where they might be more relaxed, softly smiling, in a state of greater inner peace, are largely absent. There are moments in the last few short chapters where things seem to take on almost a fabular flavour: a beloved dog "never barks again" after Emerence's death; the furniture in the locked room is absolutely beautiful, but "crumbled into nothing", "turning to powder before our eyes" due to woodworm; the funeral is attended by an enormous number of people, despite Emerence's circle being highly restricted. I'm not sure what Szabó intended by these slips into fantasy - is the accentuation in some way meant to signify the heightened state of emotion following a death? The creative mind of the writer lady dramatising the strung-out atmosphere? In its scene, its concentration, its intense preoccupation with very distinct, proud and flawed, characters in certain aspects of their lives, this is completely engrossing, and very unusual. It exerts a strange fascination.