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Sister

sister is the novel written in 1946 by Sándor Márai The Embers after and before exile in America.

The theme is unusual compared to what we have read so far in the novels of Mara, the man facing a serious illness and subsequent reflection: what is the meaning of illness?

is never pronounced the name of the disease as is never pronounced the name of the sick are universal, we mean writer.

The historical background of the novel is the period before World War II: a tragedy waiting to happen but not yet exploded. The journey that the protagonist, Z, faces on the train, still takes place in an 'apparent feeling of comfort and privilege. Z is a famous pianist and went to Florence for a concert.

This is not a case, the choice of the city symbol of beauty as opposed to the image the destruction that looms on the horizon .

That autumn evening, then Z will play at the Palazzo Pitti, ready to give beauty in "celebration" which is the concert.

But after the show Z is ill.

Márai And here comes the story of the disease. He knows the routes, it seems, the cruelty, the anguish. The pain in the morning taking turns during the day (with the light encourages them to fight and become sneaky night with dark silence.

"So the pain crouches because the patient gathers all his strength and yells at the executioner who has had enough, that it must stop now ... knock on this side, now a handle down a bit ' further. Interested in everything, eyes, ears, stomach, heart region. At the end is bored and a bit 'disappears. As if he left. Where is he hiding now? .... "

I went into this book with love and suffering, with the memories.

How not to love so intense and dramatic pages on a condition that I knew him well?

Sylvie's disease, AIDS. The first that I was confronted with an evil without remedy. Carlo's disease, Alzheimer's disease. For fourteen years has kept me tied becoming accepted as "normal" as "order," the repetition of gestures of care and assistance. Finally, my disease, cancer, exploded like thunder when the 'order' had been established with other diseases.

" The disease is nothing more than an insult to the cosmic "says a doctor Z " The disease is a condemnation "because God has turned away from man.

This is the argument I heard from the primary support of the German clinic where I had sought refuge to recover from the devastating health. I rebelled. I could not accept "even" that sentence.

What did he still lives with me? Only much later he had given me the serenity and had rushed her off through the illness of my husband. He gave me "my" disease and wanted I accepted that "also" an order?

It could not, however, the disease, a cry of pain to tell the world "Enough, I can not bear, the measure is full?"

Márai thinks the disease as a "torturer of China." And why not a communist? I would ask him. But China is far more mysterious, more cruel for a civilian like Mara.

Z remains in a hospital room very comfortable, but that does not allow him to watch out: there is a wall. The art of Florence, though so close, can not help him even making spy.

No, the disease is a cage, alone, is the end of "lies", the end of that "representation" that is life. Down the stage costume. There is only the truth.

" Modesty can only exist where there is desire and guilt ' and the disease is choking the one that the other .

"It's possible a more confidential, more complete, more sincere than that of a body in front of those four women in his stand between life and death ?

Z assisted by four sisters, sisters in fact.

"The intimacy is created between the body of the seriously ill and who cares ...."

"But the sick body has no secrets ...."

How not to rethink my "Sister" next to Charles? On his body, which I loved so much in love, abandoned to the need to be looked after and cared for? How often, when I lifted the pillow, I thought as the Christ in the arms of his Mother. How many times, the pity for that body led me to kiss it, caress it , tighten and fragrant.

be aware of your sister, I know that the rubber tube in his nose stuck mercilessly to force the body to eat, to live. I know the color of the liquid that would require dense cinnamon that body not to surrender.

Márai brought me back to all this with the strength of his extraordinary narrative ability.

Then, this narrative about the disease back to a subject very dear to the writer, the "love". And we will return by the metaphor of disease to an inability to cope difficult love, without hope, that poisons those who experience it.

rid of that love means to cure disease?

" And that fight, or run, it was not the disease but his whole life. "This thought when Z is sure to die.

But there is a female voice, one of the sisters (but which of the four?), Who tells him: "I do not want her die." And he thinks it is a feminine energy that is fighting for him. And he can not resist. It is stronger than his desire to die, that energy.

It was my energy to keep Charles in life for many years, to keep it from surrendering to the devastation? I do not know. What is certain is that I told him: "I do not want you to die." And he did not die until I realized that I could not ask him much pain and so much heroism.

" Because life is a big responsibility. But we think, live among the people! ... There are many who do not make it. How many interests! Boredom, vanity, ambition, sense, and what lies behind every death ... Who can stand all that remained healthy at all times? "

Milan, July 26, 2006