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  • Reality beats porn

    That’s what Pedro Almodovar used to say to illustrate how rich and unpredictable reality could be. This very same expression remained firm in my head, after I read Gyorgy Faludy’s “My Happy Days in Hell”.

    György Faludy
    György Faludy making the best

    That’s what Pedro Almodovar used to say to illustrate how rich and unpredictable reality could be. This very same expression remained firm in my head, after I read Gyorgy Faludy’s “My Happy Days in Hell”.

    My Happy Days in Hell

    My Happy Days in Hell
    by György Faludy
    [Penguin Classics, 2010]

    Faludy was a Hungarian Intellectual; poet, writer, ideologist, philosopher, scholar, but more important, a real individual who was in this world to take the most of it, all the time. Even if this was to happen in Recsk, one of the cruelest labor camps in Hungary’s communist era.

    “My Happy Days in Hell” (1962) is Faludy’s autobiography between the years 1938 and 1953. Don’t worry though, Faludy managed to live during those fifteen years what an adventurous person could achieve during the course of three or four lives. Travels, friendship, marriage, sexual identity, war, tyranny and the darkest side of our nature; were some of the principal ingredients in Faludy’s life during these years. You know, those little things in your existence.

    Leaving Budapest because the Nazi uprising, first to Paris, then North Africa, crossing the Atlantic over to New York, ending up again in Hungary imprisoned in a labor camp. The number of surreal scenes described in this book, will force to ask yourself whether the world we live in does actually exist, or it is some sort of dark humor play by an irresponsible maniac. Beautifully written, Faludy narrates his story as if we were enjoying a classic adventures novel about life and existence, without missing the poetic angle in everything he lives through.

    Faludy´s life was splattered of unusual events until he left us in 2006. Events like conceding Eric Johnson the dubious honor of being the only lover dumped by his 95-year-old partner (Faludy, of course), or taking the Penthouse magazine front page with his naked 26-year-old wife at a later age. With people like Faludy, who really needs Porn?

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