Norman Manea - Compulsory Happiness

In October 1959, the organization discusses the case of Dr. Vrînceanu’s husband, the former head of the industrial department of the Party newspaper. Demoted to a lowly editorial position, Comrade Cotig is reprimanded for his unworthy conduct toward his subordinates, for sectarianism, authoritarianism, and individualism. Moreover, he is condemned for the influences of his unwholesome family situation, discernible in the contempt with which he treated his fellow workers, and in the “kulak” arrogance he showed by making all decisions on his own and requiring that they be implemented without the slightest opposition, just as in the army of the discredited former regime. On this occasion, a letter of recommendation is read aloud, written by a certain Stamate, once an influential cultural representative of the Party. Comrade Cotig had been hired by the newspaper in 1946 on the strength of said recommendation. The file on the man named Geo Stamate shows that this second-rate journalist, a well-known black marketeer in the port of Constantsa, turned out to be a clever impostor, an undesirable element of society, and a demagogue who had hoodwinked Party authorities for many years. He succeeded in attaining positions of great responsibility before his past was revealed. He was unmasked as a hateful agent of the interests of our formerly class-ridden society, and of enemy forces abroad.

Between November 1959 and February 1960, Comrade Cotig is treated in a sanatorium. In April 1960, he is transferred to the Committee for the Defense of Peace, as head of the accounting department. His superiors have no complaints about his performance. In October 1960, he is promoted to assistant editor-in-chief on the Peace Committee newspaper. All reports indicate that he continues to provide satisfaction in this new capacity, just as he had in his previous position. He is conscientious and punctual. He keeps his relationships at work strictly businesslike. He does not drink. He is serious and disciplined. He works long hours without hesitation, often remaining in the office until late in the evening. He introduces measures intended to popularize the newspaper. He does not make his voice heard within the Party organization, however, preferring to keep a low profile, as though he’d never been a high-ranking Party executive.

Beginning with the academic year 1960-61, Comrade Cotig takes correspondence courses in economics to complete his education. He passes all his exams, receives average marks. His diploma, like the rest of his personal papers, carries the name Victor Scarlat, the pseudonym adopted for his first literary efforts.

In 1963, at his mother’s funeral, Comrade Cotig meets Mr. John Lama, Smaranda Cotig ’s brother, who left Romania in 1936 and became a Canadian citizen. Comrade Cotig states that he was not previously aware of the existence of this uncle, which is why he never mentioned him on his personal data sheet. What is certain is that, beginning in 1965, Comrade Cotig and especially his wife, the former Valentina Vrînceanu, correspond intermittently with the said John Lama of Toronto. Likewise, beginning in 1966, through letters sent via an intermediary, Valentina renews ties with the family of Marius Vrînceanu, who left the country in 1945 to settle in Milan, Italy.

In 1964, Comrade Cotig petitions the relevant authorities to be reinstated at the Party newspaper, in the industrial or agricultural department, where he formerly worked. Receives no answer. Remains in his position at the newspaper of the Committee for Peace. When the newspaper reduces its staff, he loses his job as assistant editor-in-chief to become head of the public-relations department. When the newspaper ceases publication, Comrade Cotig manages to find a position in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. In 1971 he leaves this post, which is incompatible with his family ties abroad and with the fact that his daughter, Dolores Scarlat, foolishly succumbed to the siren call of capitalist decadence while on an organized tour in Turkey, and defected to Belgium, where she still lives in Antwerp.

On the basis of a recommendation from Comrade Petre Petru, whom he has known since his early years in the Party, and who has become, after his rehabilitation, a director at the Department of Public Worship, Comrade Cotig obtains a position on a religious publication put out by the Romanian Orthodox Church (exactly which one remains unclear); he is quickly promoted to the protocol department. All reports state that Comrade Cotig fulfills his obligations in this position, which he holds until 1973, as conscientiously as always. His colleagues are favorably impressed with him. There are indications that in addition to his duties in the protocol/public relations department, Comrade Cotig is sometimes consulted, in view of his long experience, by the Most Reverend Metropolitan whenever the prelate is confronted with a particularly delicate political matter.

II.3.

The girl had been sprawled for some time in the rocking chair, in front of the mirror; she was staring at her reflection, without really seeing it. She needed the calm of perfect concentration — at least that’s the impression she gave, absentmindedly rocking for hours … In fact, she was more interested in simply staying right where she was, lolling in that red chair. Apparently she created this atmosphere of peaceful isolation, in which she’d been beginning her mornings over the last few weeks, in a highly original way, by starting a frenetic uproar with the radio, the tape deck, added to the constant ringing of the telephone — an uproar she then ignored …

She wouldn’t make the slightest move to stop the noise, as though she couldn’t hear a thing. Every once in a while, she tried to continue writing the letter she held in her lap, but the words wouldn’t come to her, or else they vanished before she could grasp them.

The lovely spring morning was far away. The locked windows and thick curtains kept out the fresh air of the new season.

She was naked to the waist, wearing jeans, with her bare feet propped up on the huge bureau. Hair cut boyishly short, circles under her big, heavily made-up eyes, and ripe breasts, as mature as the rest of her solid, confident body. Her parents said she was a shy girl; her teachers at the Polytechnic described her as an excellent student; according to her friends, she was laid back and an easy lay.

A tape of Ray Charles, a children’s program on the radio, and on the telephone, Sorin, who called her in a frenzy for hours on end every morning. She was writing to him, actually, to Sorin — one or two lines a day, tiny stories intended to make him understand, when he got them, the how and the why … It wasn’t just a simple explanation of these past two weeks of absence and silence; she wanted to present him with a motive she’d discovered hidden away in the Technicolor folds of a privileged childhood, one that had given her, she had to admit, very precious advantages.