Malcolm Bradbury - Doctor Criminale

I went down to the bar and ordered a drink. The Hungarian beauties were there again, perched up on their barstools, chatting excitedly and looking over at me. I went across to the maître d’ and asked for a table. ‘I have tables for Peat Marwick,’ he said, running his finger down the list, ‘Also Dun and Bradstreet, Price Waterhorse, Cooper Lybrand. Or perhaps you are Adam Smith Institute?’ Evidently the film companies were out on the town tonight. ‘No, I’m not with a party, I’m on my own,’ I said. ‘No one should have to eat all on his own, it is too sad,’ said . the Hungarian beauty from last night, joining me again, ‘You have dollars tonight? If you have dollars I will love you really.’ ‘For two, sir,’ said the maître d’. ‘No, I’d like to eat on my own,’ I said. ‘Are you a queer person?’ asked the Hungarian beauty. ‘No, a philosopher,’ I said, ‘I just want to do some thinking.’ ‘Very well,’ said the girl, ‘You can always find me later, if you change your mind.’

So I went and sat alone in the dining-room, watching the other tables fill up with laughing accountants from London and New York, gaily spreading the delights of the free market and the international marketplace ever further eastward, even as their colleagues were beginning to feel the pinch of recession, retreat and redundancy back home. I had just ordered the goulasch I had been avoiding for two days when another Hungarian beauty in a miniskirt came over to the table and said, ‘Oh dear, are you all alone?’ ‘Yes, I rather prefer it,’ I said. ‘Really, I didn’t think so,’ she said. I looked up, and saw that she was Ildiko Hazy, standing there in her blue dress, smiling at me. ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘Please sit down.’ ‘You thought I was one of those who would charge you something?’ she asked, sitting down, ‘Well, I am not.’ ‘Of course not,’ I said, ‘Have dinner with me.’ ‘I hate to interrupt you, when you are so happy at yourself,’ she said. ‘No, I’m not,’ I said, handing her the menu, ‘Have something, please.’

‘Lunch, and now dinner,’ said Ildiko Hazy, taking the menu and looking at it, ‘You know, it is just like an affair. Do you like to know why I came?’ ‘Because you thought you’d like to see me again,’ I suggested. ‘Because I know where is Criminale,’ said Ildiko, ‘Now, what shall I have? I think anything but goulasch.’ I stared at her; she smiled back at me. ‘Say that again,’ I said, ‘You know where is Criminale?’ ‘This old lady at the apartment, she told me everything,’ said Ildiko, ‘But I didn’t like to explain it to you while Hollo Sandor was there. I do not trust him.’ ‘But you’re going to tell me now?’ I asked. ‘Well, I have first a condition,’ said Ildiko, ‘That means, if you don’t accept, then I don’t tell you, yes?’ ‘What’s the condition?’ I asked. ‘When you go there to find him, I want to go with you,’ said Ildiko, ‘I also want to find him for myself.’

‘Do you?’ I asked, ‘Why?’ ‘Because I want him to make me a contract for his new book before he sells it to some other house here,’ said Ildiko, ‘You know it is very hard for us now, here in the free market. Once we belonged to the state, now we must try to be more private. But you know how is capitalism. Everything is money, then money and more money. Nothing is friendship, nothing is trust. But I promise if you say yes I will trust you. You will buy me a ticket, and we will both go there. Is it yes?’ I looked at her, at her blonde hair and her bright smiling face. I had to admit the idea was seriously tempting. ‘Wait a minute,’ I said, ‘It depends how far we have to go.’ ‘You are a very rich man,’ she said. ‘I am not a very rich man,’ I said, ‘I’m a television researcher on a very tight budget. I have this really mean producer.’ ‘I think I will have the smoked salmon,’ said Ildiko to the waiter, looking at me defiantly, ‘I did not think you were mean.’

‘I’m not,’ I said, ‘I’m just like everyone else in the free market. I have to satisfy my employer.’ ‘Yes, everyone has something to keep them in place,’ said Ildiko, ‘Sometimes the secret policemen, sometimes a boss and a mortgage. Well, okay, don’t worry. It’s not so far really.’ ‘What do you mean?’ I asked. ‘It is not Japan, not South America,’ said Ildiko, ‘So is that all right? Don’t you love to take me?’ ‘It’s outside Hungary?’ I asked. Ildiko nodded. ‘In the West?’ She nodded again. ‘How far west?’ I asked. ‘Okay, I tell you this,’ said Ildiko, ‘It is in north Italy, not so very far at all. You know, Hollo Sandor would love to take me there, in his Ultimate Machine. And he can get me Western currency easy, with all his fixes. Don’t you feel a bit lucky I like better to go there with you?’ ‘Of course,’ I said, ‘Okay, north Italy, that’s not so bad. Let’s go! We’ll eat our dinner and then I’ll call Vienna and get them to cable us some money.’

The West, the West, he takes me to the West,’ said Ildiko, delighted, ‘Oh, by the way, just one little problem. How to get invited. He is at the Villa Barolo on Lake Cano. Maybe you know it, they say it is the best place in the world to go and write. But it belongs to an American foundation, with some great heiress.’ ‘What’s Criminale doing there?’ I asked. ‘Oh, they are holding some great international congress there, on literature and power,’ said Ildiko, ‘Of course they need Criminale.’ ‘Then how could we get in?’ I asked. ‘They would not invite me, of course,’ said Ildiko, ‘But you are an important British journalist, yes? You work on a newspaper?’ ‘Well, I did,’ I said, ‘But the newspaper I work for just closed down.’ Ildiko looked at me. ‘But do they know that at Barolo?’ she asked. ‘Come to think of it, they probably don’t,’ I said. That’s right,’ said Ildiko, approvingly, ‘Just think a little Hungarian. Say you are writing an important piece about it, send them a cable, yes?’ ‘All right, I will,’ I said, ‘When we’ve eaten this.’

Ildiko looked at the plate in front of me. ‘Ugh, goulasch,’ she said, ‘Do you know what it is made of? Dead bodies from the Danube.’ ‘I don’t believe it,’ I said. ‘Well, I lie sometimes, but only with my closest friends,’ said Ildiko, ‘Now listen, I think we must go tomorrow, or we miss the congress start. Do you like me to go later and get us some tickets for the train?’ ‘Fine,’ I said, ‘If they say we can attend.’ ‘You have dollar?’ asked Ildiko, ‘It is best in dollar. If you have dollar I will love you.’ ‘I do have dollar,’ I said, ‘But later.’ ‘But you will definitely take me to the West? Where they have all these shops?’ ‘Yes, I will,’ I said. Then it’s wonderful,’ said Ildiko. And that, as it happened, and that is most of what happened, is how Ildiko Hazy and I found ourselves the next day on another international train, from Budapest to Milan, on our way to the Barolo Congress and, we hoped, to Bazlo Criminale.

One thing I’ve learned in life is that you should never take a great international literary congress too lightly. And that was certainly so with the now highly famed Barolo Congress on the topic of ‘Literature and Power: The Changing Nineties: Writing After the Cold War’, which held its deliberations at the Villa Barolo on Lake Cano in November 1990. Supported by the munificence of the great Magno Foun­dation (whose founder, Mrs Valeria Magno, was to attend the ceremonies), chaired by the famed Italian intellectual, Professor Massimo Monza, Professor of Obscure Signs at the University of Nemi, and with as its guest of honour none other than Professor Bazlo Criminale, it was plainly an event of scale, significance and indeed, in the wise gaze of history, true cultural transformation.