The instinct to survive can make us do strange things.

As a result of the Great Depression, Hungary was economically desperate. The country began depending upon Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy for its survival. In 1940, Hungary became the fourth member to join the Axis. Four years later, Nazi troops invaded and subsequently occupied Hungary. At this time, 550,000 Hungarian Jews were sent to extermination camps.

At the end of World War II, Hungary became part of the Soviet sphere of influence thus allowing the Soviets to impose communism on the Hungarians. But not everyone wanted to be a communist. A group of students held a peaceful demonstration in Budapest asking for a change. But police responded by shooting at the crowd. This was the beginning of the Hungarian Revolution of 1956.

What is the difference between a Nazi and a Communist when they both try to occupy the home of another?

Magda Szabò was a Hungarian writer who had to learn how to feel at home in an occupied country. Her father, an academic, taught her English and Latin. Her husband, Tibor Szobotka, was a writer and a translator. To feel anchored, Magda needed words and began writing. Her career got off to a good start. But her words made the government uncomfortable. In 1949, when Magda was 32, she won a prestigious literary award. And, on the same day, the communist regime not only deprived her of her prize but also declared her an enemy of the state, dismissed her from her job, and prohibited her from publishing anything else. Magda had to wait until 1958 to be “rehabilitated”.

Why are politicians so afraid of books? To ban books is a manifestation of insecurity. And lack of respect for the ideas of others. To ban books is to ban one’s spirit. And, in the world of karma, this means banning your own spirit as well.

Subjected to one regime then another, Magda lived in a world of transitions. And these continual transitions made interrelating difficult. How do we learn to interrelate with the world around us if everything keeps changing forcing us to change, too. Magda’s books explore these interrelations. She also explores how to find your voice when you’ve been forced into silence.

In The Door, Magda explores these interrelations. The book describes the relationship between two women: a writer and a housekeeper. The story is narrated by the writer. And, as the story is autobiographical, here we will refer to the writer as Magda. The housekeeper’s name is Emerence.

A Dog Made of Plaster

Emerence was a junk collector with a passion for strange and mutilated objects. More than collect for herself, she collected to give to others. These gifts did not please Magda and pleased her husband even less. One day Emerence brought them a statue of a plaster dog with a chipped ear. When Emerence saw that the dog had been hidden, she wanted an explanation. Magda said she didn’t want it in her house because it was damaged and kitsch. 

Emergence gave these “kitsch” presents to express her affection. Magda, thinking more about her husband’s opinion and need for “intellectual” tastes, didn’t know at the time “that affection can’t always be expressed in calm, orderly, articulate ways; and that one cannot prescribe the form it should take for anyone else.”

Insulted, Emerence quit. Magda’s husband liked ancient artifacts that were also chipped. So why were those chipped objects ok and not the ones that she gave them?

With Emerence gone, Magda and her husband could once again place the objects in their home where they wanted to. But now they didn’t have Emerence to keep the household properly functioning.

You don’t appreciate what you have until it’s gone. And once Emerence was no longer there, Magda understood how much she loved her. Since her mother’s death, Magda had not let anyone get close to her save Emerence. And now without Emerence there, Magda felt fragile and ready to crumble. And all because she hadn’t been able to accept a plaster dog with a chipped ear as a gift worthy of her house.

Magda and her husband, who preferred the radio, would sit together to watch TV. The couple could not communicate with one another and were shrouded by a silence provoked by the absence of Emerence.

Finally, the couple had to admit that they needed Emerence in their lives. Because by vanishing from their lives, she’d paralyzed everything around them. Emerence “was like a character in an epic poem who dissolves into thin air.”

There was only one thing to do—ask Emerence to come back. So Magda goes to Emerence’s home and when the latter opens the door she immediately asks “Have you come to apologize?” but without any anger in her voice. Magda responds by saying that she didn’t mean to hurt Emerence’s feelings and that the plaster dog could stay. They can’t manage without her so would she please come back.

First Emerence asks where the plaster dog will be put. “Wherever you like” responds Magda. Emerence agrees to go back and when she sees the plaster dog on the kitchen table, she turns to the couple then to the plaster dog then back to the couple again.  “…her face lit up with one of those unforgettable smiles she reserved for very special occasions. She picked up the little dog, dusted it carefully, and hurled it to the floor. Nobody spoke. No word or sound would have fit the moment. She stood there among the fragments, like a queen.”

Great humanity begins when we think of others and not just of ourselves.

The story opens with “I seldom dream. When I do, I wake with a start, bathed in sweat. Then I lie back, waiting for my frantic heart to slow, and reflect on the overwhelming power of night’s spell.”

Immediately we learn that the narrator seldom dreams and, when she does, it’s the same dream over and over. In her dream she tries to open a door. She finally gets the key to turn but still the door won’t open. She needs to open the door because the paramedics have come for her patient. The dream pushes her into despair. Afraid, she screams and her own screaming wakes her up.

No one had ever seen Emerence’s door standing open. But, having placed her faith in Magda, Emerence,  “someone who defended her solitude and impotent misery so fiercely that she would have kept that door shut though a flaming roof crackled over her head”, opened the door anyway only to regret it later.

How many doors have been opened for us that we’ve just slammed shut before even attempting to cross the Welcome mat?

Magda Szabò (1917-2007) died in her favorite armchair with an open book on her lap. She was 90 years old.