End of the Nischen Verlag: Say Szervusz softly as you say goodbye

Hungary 1956. In October, many eyes from East and West are fixed on the country in which, according to Khrushchev's secret speech in February of the same year, a democratization of the system is to be brought about. Only the engineer Gyula Fátray doesn't want to hear, see or say anything. "It can't hurt if you go to the hospital a few days before a revolution breaks out and stay there until it is crushed, in order to finally spend the time of vengeance as a convalescent peacefully at home." And so he doesn't learn anything either. this protagonist from the novel “The Verruf” by György Spiró, not even when, despite all his precautionary measures, he threatens to fall under the wheels of the communist restoration.

It should not have been a coincidence that this work was part of the opening program of the Niche Verlag, which was launched in Vienna in 2011. He wanted to publish exclusively Hungarian literature in German translation, and the two heads behind it, Zsóka and Paul Lendvai, had made it their mission to “work against stupidity, provincialism and malice” with their books. Zsóka, born in 1955, was a passionate editor and “always dreamed of having my own small publishing house in which I could determine the program myself”. While working on a book together, she met Paul, an experienced journalist and astute commentator on Austrian and Hungarian history. Born in Budapest, he and his father were exposed to anti-Semitic repression as a teenager.was imprisoned in 1953 and was able to flee to Vienna via several stops in 1956. From there, in

, Zsóka is in charge of editorial operations, but production takes place in Hungary.

Rather, it happened. Because after ten years and eighteen titles, the publisher will stop working at the end of the year. It got off to a good start! In the beginning there was a grant from Hungary and in 2013 the Bruno Kreisky Special Prize for publishing services; The Lendvais expressis verbis do not complain about a lack of discussions. They don't even use the pandemic as a reason for quitting. They wanted to make a “happy ending”. Her motto has always been that a publishing house costs money, but “we don't have to spend our savings in St. Tropez. We can use it to pay fees. ”Now, after ten years, St. Tropez has not gotten richer, but the literary world has become poorer, and on top of that, the couple's savings accounts have been looted. However, Zsóka Lendvai has no regrets. "May I then saythat the niche publisher has filled our lives for ten years. It was always an adventure to find a book, then the author and finally the translator. "

A heart project

The two remained true to each other until the end.

You have brought out contemporary authors whose works mostly revolve around historical topics, because whoever wants to influence thinking about the present does not necessarily have to tell about it, and contemporary literature does not have to be owed to the politics of the day.

They sought dialogue with the readership, as the example of their first title, “The Red Bicycle” by Ágnes Zsolt, shows;

This novel is often compared to Anne Frank's diary, but the sources, as Gábor Murányi clearly points out in the afterword, are by no means so clear-cut; the girl's mother may also have written the text.

The Lendvais wanted to show that in addition to long-established greats like the two Péters - Esterházy and Nádas - there were more literary discoveries to be made in Hungary, but they never wanted to set up a Tamisdat publishing house. All of the works have also been published in Hungary, even the gloomy text “Stumme Wiesen” by Tibor Noé Kiss, who acknowledged her transsexuality in her debut that has not yet been translated into German. The niche program thus also reflects the not-so-crystal-clear situation in Hungary: Are these original language publications relics? Sign of hope? Fig leaves of naked repression?

The couple has also remained true to their little bookkeeping point of view.

The publishing house is still an "affair of the heart".

Remaining stocks of the titles can still be acquired, but the two are currently donating a number of books to schools and libraries or giving them to those who are associated with the publisher.

The circle closes

The aforementioned protagonist Fátray from Spiró's novel prefers to stay out of everything: “This is how fate saves you from making wrong decisions in those critical days, even making wrong decisions at all.” The Lendvais, on the other hand, are decisive. That's why they're drawing their line now, a little perplexed perhaps. Certainly, in Austria and Germany, readings are more difficult to organize when an author can only speak Hungarian. Bookstores, too, would often focus on bestsellers alone. As often as it may be comforting that no algorithm decides the success or failure of a book, it is just as painful in the specific case of the niche publisher that a second Sándor Márai would have been wished for.

Exactly ten years after its foundation, the publishing house in Berlin celebrated the book launch of its last title: Judit Kovát's novel “Heimatlos”.

Like the first publication, “The Red Bicycle”, it takes up a topic from the phases of the German occupation in Hungary and the post-war period: the persecution of the Zipser Germans.

In a way, it comes full circle.

Another event with Kováts is planned for next year in Stuttgart.

Nevertheless, it remains to be lamented: From now on, not only part of Hungarian literature is unhoused in German-speaking countries.