The Changing Role of Women
in Contemporary Hungarian Literature

Éva Kiss-Novák

In modern societies, the arts, the humanities, and the social sciences serve the needs of society in peculiar ways. This is especially true of literature and such disciplines as political science, sociology, psychology. In countries where the latter developed late, or where they exercised belated and/or limited influence on the evolution of national life, literature assumed a more important role and performed some of the functions that the social sciences have fulfilled elsewhere. This is true of Russian literature, and it is certainly characteristic of Hungarian literature. Moreover, as it will be argued in this essay, literature in Hungary from the early-1970s to the late-1980s was more sensitive to the country's social problems than the social sciences, controlled as these were in the post-Stalinist yet still highly regimented Hungary of the Kádár era.1 To illustrate the truth of this thesis, this essay will examine the evolving images of women's roles and their lives as depicted in the literature of this period.

It is a well-known fact that in post-World War II Hungary - in fact, in most of postwar Eastern Europe - the two income family became the accepted norm.2 The peculiar economic conditions of the times necessitated the mass entry of women into the labour force.3 This development came about in a relatively short time in the Hungarian nation's historical evolution. Hungary's communist rulers tried to mask the difficulties that accompanied this transformation by proclaiming the process to be a part of the socialist emancipation of women.4 It should not be forgotten that the authorities did establish - or, at least, tried to establish - the infrastructure needed to put this transformation into effect: they created public nurseries, kindergartens, etc.5 Despite their shortcomings, these institutions assured mobility to a great many women. Improvement can be seen in the statistics documenting the educational attainments of women. The proportion of women in managerial positions also improved somewhat, and in certain professions, such as among teachers and pharmacists, women began to predominate. In spite of these largely positive developments, the traditional roles of women did remain, and certain tasks traditionally performed by women, continued to be women's chores.6 The peculiar economic conditions prevailing did not allow the mechanization of domestic chores in the manner that was typical of contemporary Western European and North American households. Family incomes simply did not warrant the equipping of households with modern conveniences. The fact that for example some canned goods were available, did not change the expectation that women bake, cook the daily meals, produce the preserves for the family - and in the countryside, also grow the vegetables. The meagre advances in providing women with conveniences did not make their household tasks substantially easier.

In most cases, the tasks of raising and taking care of the children also devolved upon women. Only among members of the younger generation was there a tendency for the men, the fathers, to share household chores.7 The end of communist rule in 1989 brought little noticeable change. In fact, the slow evolution of societal attitudes that had started before this political transformation, was halted by the economic crises of the early and mid-1990s. These economic recessions forced families to exert greater efforts to maintain their usual standard of living. Since in most cases men had a better chance to earn higher incomes, women tended once again to assume a greater share of the tasks of child-rearing and taking care of the home.

The physical and spiritual burdens brought about by such situations are not shouldered in a uniform manner by women. There are those for whom, because of upbringing or the influence of the immediate social environment, emancipation is only a theoretical possibility. There are some who try, and some who even succeed in taking advantage of the greater opportunities available to women during the last few decades. There are many who are more constrained by their cultural legacies than by the changed circumstances of the times. Many among these feel that they are only full-fledged human beings - women - when there is a man standing beside them. Many see fulfilment only in being mothers. It might sound banal, but it is true: there are as many fates as women. This fact can be described with the greatest empathy by women authors. For this reason in this essay I shall illustrate the various types of female characters that exist in recent Hungarian literature through examining the works of women authors, except in one case. I shall try to answer the question of how the women portrayed strove to play the roles assigned to them. I will also endeavour to describe not only a Hungarian but a general phenomenon as far as lessons about women's roles and lives are concerned.

I shall be describing a number of types of women who are depicted in recent Hungarian fiction. Categorizing individuals as belonging to one or another variety is a risky undertaking. Nevertheless, it may be the best way to proceed. In this process I shall try to look for the common elements in the characters of the women portrayed by the authors, especially those elements that can be observed in these women's reactions to situations, and in their interpretations of their own roles. The order in which I discuss these types does not imply that one type is more prevalent than another.

The first "type" I find is what I call the deprived one. The most typical and focused representation of this type of women can be found in Árpád Göncz's monodrama Magyar Médea [Hungarian Médea].8 (Göncz is the only male author whose work I discuss in this study.) Médea Deák was brought up in the spirit of the idea that woman's fate is man. As far as her education and professional qualifications are concerned, she is the equal of her husband. Nevertheless, two things confine her to inescapable bondage: her obsessive love and her cultural surroundings. The combination of these two determining factors motivate her to further her husband's career. She had met her husband during the 1950s, during the time of deportations when Hungary's communist regime persecuted those whom it suspected of opposing the country's socialist transformation. The Deáks themselves were deportees. Médea lived the difficult life assigned to her, along with her father the ex-general, and mother who valued keeping up appearances above everything. Under such demeaning conditions Médea makes friends with András Jászó, a good-natured and bright country lad, a tractor driver. The relationship builds from a feeling of indebtedness - not surprisingly, as the young man steals food to feed Médea and her family - but this feeling gradually blossoms into love. The young lovers set out on life's journey and, though trying to forget the past, they strive for greater and greater educational achievement, supporting each other in the process. In this process Médea does most of the helping and encouraging, while she also shoulders the burdens of family life. Her fate becomes the fate of many women when her husband - now a highly qualified managerial type - having reached the height of his career, dumps her in favour of the young daughter of a highly-placed communist party official. What we have here is a situation often caused by social mobility. Many women of various social backgrounds have faced this. The man, whom his wife had helped to climb the ladder of the social mobility, on attaining success finds his loyal wife unworthy, and exchanges her for another, a younger woman. Médea finds her husband's betrayal all the more disheartening, as he complains about precisely those of her characteristics which had benefitted him in his quest for a career: her cultured nature, brilliance, perseverance, self-confidence and generosity. The tragedy is made complete when Médea's parents, who had disagreed on what their tormented only child should do under the circumstances, become victims of a traffic accident. This event proves the final stage in Médea's becoming a deprived individual. She sees no reason to live on, and finds solace in suicide. This final solution is of course an individual choice. Women who had met fates similar to Médea's - who were abandoned by a husband, a child or children, and who as a result have lost their faith in God and themselves - are many. Such fates are described in the novels of Anna Jókai, Sarolta Raffai, Boris Palotai for example, and the author's message is often confirmed by sociological studies.9

The next type of woman I find I call the sacrificial lamb. She is the sacrificial animal on the altar of the family, the children, the daily struggle - and, especially, the comfort, pride and vanity of her man. The women who belong to this type usually come from lower-class social backgrounds and usually do not reach a societal position higher than that of a blue collar worker. They don't even aspire to higher things, as we find the female characters of the novel Csábító [The Seducer] by Klára Bihari.10 For them, the most a woman can aspire to is a decent family life lived with a good husband. For this goal every sacrifice is worthy and must be made. This view derives from ancient values cherished by Hungary's peasants. This fact explains that this particular type of woman is frequently found among country people. These views predominate among village folk who believe that the basic unit of society is the family. Here, no man lives outside the family. The essence of child-rearing is to prepare children for their role within the families. These roles are defined in a precise manner by village society. Leadership, decision-making, along with hard physical work are the tasks of the man. The woman's task is to obey, perform the myriad household chores, put up with her husband's idiosyncracies, and of course, never complain. If all this is reinforced by a romantic bond, as it is in the above-mentioned novel, then the woman becomes a perfect sacrificial lamb. It is surprising that at the end of the second millennium this role playing is still a widely accepted phenomenon. Both fictional and sociological studies uniformly speak to the fact that this concept of women's role in life has changed very little during the last decades - despite the great transformations that have taken place during this period.

The fate of women belonging to this category is work in the workplace - which in itself is drab and boring - work around the home, and the routine of supplying the needs of the family. The monotony of such lives is only rarely interrupted by some unexpected event, such as an excursion to an amusement park with a child (see Zsuzsa Vathy's novel Angolpark [English Park, i.e. an amusement park in Budapest]. These seemingly insignificant events become the cherished and most memorable events of these women's lives. Others are those fleeting moments when, at the whim of their husbands, they receive a word of apparent praise, a superficial compliment, all which confirms in them the worthiness of their role. These women are ready for any sacrifice, as if confirming their raison d'être so that when in walking down their village's main street alongside their man, upon being introduced to someone, they can flout a married name.11 It is for precisely this reason that this type often becomes the victim of unscrupulous individuals who prey upon them, as the promise of marriage opens not only the heart but also the doors and the purses. These patterns make these women easy prey. Nevertheless, they feel that they must accept life's blows without complaining - this is their motto. The characters of Klára Bihari's novel do not spurn the seducers even after their having been unmasked, but hope that, after they divorce their wives, they will marry them. The sole aim of the lonely lives of these women is a man, from whom on some rare occasions they can receive friendliness or even love.

The next type of woman resembles the former in a few qualities. I call this type the one who acts as if dreaming. In my view this type of woman is portrayed in the novel of Anna Jókai, Jákob Lajtorjája [Jacob's Ladder]. Hajnal Kantár is a university-educated young woman from a good family. Her mother lives her own life and considers her daughter a stranger. The cause of this poor mother-daughter relationship has been Hajnal's unfortunate choice in mates. At first she had fallen in love with a selfish swindler, then almost out of spite she married another man whom she did not really love. This ill-conceived marriage ends in divorce, and Hajnal is left, with her one-year-old daughter, in terrible economic circumstances. She manages to complete her training as a lawyer and soon she meets her life's first true love, an actor by the name of Kornél. He marries her partly out of pity, partly out of expectations of improved family finances. But life with Kornél's diabetic daughter is not easy. Kornél

bears with some dignity the tragedy that had befallen him, like a heroic soldier who has hidden his bloodied shirt under his military overcoat, but the evidence of the wound is revealed sometime here and sometimes there. Did the wound squeal unintentionally? Or did Kornél make sure that the truth was revealed through a careless movement so as the tip of the bandage could become visible? Who can know for sure? And now arrives this sparingly lively, radiantly brilliant woman. She tears open the overcoat. She caresses. But through this she wipes smooth all the creases.12

The circumstances of the situation are extremely complex. Nevertheless Hajnal reaches for the last straw and tries to save this love; with heroic efforts she tries to redeem - as though through a dream - a life gone wrong. She carries on with her life as a lawyer, she takes care of her ailing step-daughter, and tries to make every occasion unforgettable for her husband. She does this not from cynical calculation but from her belief in perfection. In her views about the roles of men and women in life, in addition to the discharging of duties as professionals, there is an important role for the ties between men and women that are based on feelings, on sexuality, and on the equal sharing of delights and worries. Circumstances, however, do not allow for these natural desires to be fulfilled, but Hajnal does not give up. With undaunted persistence she tries to provide the material needs of starting a new life. She takes a second job and she persists in keeping her husband's spirits up, all in order to improve the chances of a happier life. In the meantime they have to struggle with life's little irritations, such as their miserable living quarters.13 Hajnal dreams of a prefect life. She hopes to gain the love of her husband's little daughter, and that the two girls will make friends. Her belief in fairness does not permit her to see a family that had been abandoned, possibly on account of her, to endure privations. For this reason she tries - beyond what her own situation warrants - to alleviate the material needs of her husband's former family. Her desperate efforts fail to bring about perfect happiness. In part because of events beyond their control (the little girl with the diabetes dies), partly because in the heroic struggle for perfection and happiness nerves get frayed, and the couple loses what was most important in their relationship: love and mutual respect.

Can the character represented by Hajnal Kantár be classified as a particular type of woman? I am convinced that it can. Dreaming about a young woman's fulfilled and happy life happens not only in the bedrooms of girls. Even women who have had setbacks in life hope that, in possession of some useful experiences, they will be wiser in rebuilding their lives. They also dream that in doing so they can reach the goal of combining the roles of a happy mother/wife and successful career woman. In my view this type of mentality, this type of acting as if dreaming, can only be induced by social conditioning which compels people to persevere and never give up the struggle.

It is worth emphasizing that this type of woman not only dreams but acts to attain her dreams. Hajnal and women like her live in awe of the complete emancipation of women, and some of them even succeed in reaching what they long for. They may not attain perfection - we may ask: is there perfect happiness? - but a balanced life which conjures up the image of perfection. The hero of our novel does not succeed even in this. We also have to keep in mind that, often, the family life of a professionally successful wife is rarely similarly successful. In discussing this problem, however, we come upon another type of woman.

With a pinch of irony, we can call this type the emancipated woman. The irony applies not to the woman so designated but to the concept. What is this concept? In the Book of Genesis we can read the following: "And God said: Let us make man in our similitude and after our likeness: that he may have rule over the fish of the sea, and over the fowls of the air, and over cattle, and over the earth and over all worms that creep on the earth. And God created man after his likeness, after the likeness of God created he him: male and female created he them...."14 At the time of creation, God had not differentiated between man and woman. Nevertheless history shows that men have avenged the age of matriarchy by the strict subordination of women.15 In fact, words are hardly enough to describe the sad situation of women in many parts of the world. How women become truly emancipated to be equal to men? After all, we are different from men physically, in our ability to perform physical tasks, as well as in our spiritual make-up. We can attain the same level of education, fill the same type of jobs, we can drive cars, we smoke, and even in the matter of alcohol consumption we can do a commendable job - as recent statistics reveal. And among the young, the dating game is often initiated by girls. Is this enough? Does this represent emancipation?

Let us respond to this question with the help of fiction. I would like to etch this type of woman on the basis of the lead character of Klára Bihari's novel the Elvált asszony [The Divorced Woman].16 The woman in question is Réka Galló, the ambitious daughter of a working-class couple. Réka, without any substantial support from her parents, manages to attain higher and higher levels of education and thereby to reach higher and higher positions in the workplace. She is an independent, self-motivated, positive individual. She climbs the stepping stones of her profession with determination, while she makes sure that her education does not remain one-sided. She is restricted in her independence only by parental love. Réka bears this burden with understanding, love and politeness. Her self-confidence is reinforced by the fact that her parents, friends, and co-workers all respect her. Her inner peace is disturbed only by her first love. This emancipated, smart woman makes some compromises out of love and womanly tactfulness. Yet this first venture into love turns to diaster when it is revealed that her boyfriend has had a child out of wedlock. Réka's sense of fair play and her pride cannot accept the idea. After this incident, she stays away from romantic involvement for a considerable time. Although her studies occupy her time, she is still increasingly perturbed by her loneliness.

A chance encounter tosses Réka besides the man who would later become her husband, about whom the reader from the first moment gets the impression that he is not worthy of her. Réka too, has some unanswered questions about the relationship and has, as a result, premonitions of misfortune, but her desire for a partner is more powerful. Under these circumstances she lowers her expectations. After starting life with her husband - and his mother, as economic circumstances force the three of them to live together - she gives up her independence and her emancipated ways, and she makes more and more compromises. She is put into an awkward situation by the simple fact that her married life is lived out in her mother-in-law's flat. Faced by a strong-willed mother-in-law and her pampered child, Réka is left to her own devices. Her preference for family peace and her love for her husband prevents her from trying to assert herself. Neither the husband nor her mother-in-law appreciates Réka's self-sacrificing efforts in serving the family and at the same time discharging her professional duties. She is, nevertheless, offended not only by the uneven distribution of the family work-load but also by the disparity between her and her husband's entitlements within the household. Yet it is not what prompts her to end the relationship, but the fact that for all her efforts she gets less and less emotional compensation from her husband. That is, if we analyze the situation we find that women are willing to give up part of that hard-earned equality they had attained, if in exchange they get true love, understanding and appreciation. Since the lead character of this novel gets none of these, she opts for a divorce and through this process she benefits her emancipated self at the expense of that part of her that values family life above all. The story's continuation offers some lessons. After her divorce, Réka has a number of relationships with men, but none of these proves lasting. One man sees in her only the easy prey of a recently divorced woman. Another proves incapable of getting out of his miserable marriage and thus does not want to make his new relationship with Réka official. A third man sees in her only a woman who makes lots of money. In this way this woman, despite her many fine qualities, remains alone.

Can we consider this ending of Klára Bihari's novel one with an important message? Is the fate of emancipated women, who are not capable of compromising over the long run, loneliness? It is not only the novel that hints at this. Numerous sociological studies point out that women who consider themselves independent and behave independently, often remain without a partner. A considerable number of men prefer a wife who accepts the husband's leadership, who look up to them, and who apparently feels good about the asymmetrical power arrangements within the family. Hungarian society has not learned as yet how to deal with an emancipated woman. Very few such women enjoy public acceptance and sympathy. Rather, a person such as Réka can expect more suspicion mixed with malicious joy than sincere empathy. Public opinion - if we can be permitted such a generalization - is more in sympathy with men. An acquaintance of mine who is a distinguished researcher and who has been married twice, has been often advised: it is all right if you're smart, but don't show it!

The next type of women I find I call the great woman. This womanly role reaches back to the times of our mothers and grandmothers. It represents that woman who is first and foremost a housewife - more precisely, the manager of the household - who is a mother and wife. She has never heard of women's emancipation, but like a man, she manages the household, the family, as well as the servants. Hungarian literature is full of these wonderful characters.17 Let me bring before you examples of this type of women as they have been portrayed by the writer Magda Szabó.18

These are strong-willed self-motivated women. Presumably their character has been shaped by the social environment. Women have been forced to assume the tasks and roles of men when wars, military service, or some tragedy had taken the men away from their families. These circumstances moulded these women's character gradually, yet they could not or would not want to return to their traditional roles even if circumstances later permitted it - for example through the eventual return of the men from military service or exile. Of course it was not only historic events that produced situations where women had to stand in for men. The lead character of Magda Szabó's novel Régimódi történet [Old-fashioned Story], a grandmother, replaces an irresponsible husband in order to save the family from becoming impoverished and to assure her children life as respectable middle-class citizens. Mária Rickl tries to climb the ladder of social respectability from ground level. There is a great deal of determination and strength in her. Though she never forgets about social propriety and dressing in the manner of women, her character transforms her into a man. She "was a strong woman, so strong in fact that she repelled those that lived with her, and who beat into the heads of all her daughters that they should never trust a man: they are not partners, they not helpers, they are good-for-nothing brigands."19 Magda Szabó's portrayal also helps us to explain why we can find this type of women in different historical periods and in diverse social groups. It is partly because the pattern of thinking and acting of these women is transmitted from one generation to the next, and partly because there are always men who feel comfortable in the convenient role of leaving important decisions to others. Thus we can often encounter this type of woman.

One might as well meditate over the question whether these women can be happy in the prison of their self-established role model. Probably not. Instead of happiness, they probably achieve some kind of contentment: the satisfaction of a job well done, the pride of being more accomplished than the men. In their sons they desperately want to see the men that can live up to their expectations. And if this dream does not materialize - as it doesn't for the heroine of the novel we're discussing - she disowns such a son, rather than forgives him. Her strict beliefs become her life, and they become companions in her lonely existence. She forces her standards upon members of her family with iron discipline. Her prudence benefits her family materially, but she has little tact to handle other things. For her, feelings and passions belong in the realm of unaffordable luxuries. She does not permit herself to be overtaken by feelings, and not even the delightfulness or the suffering of her grandchild moves her. She is convinced that life's struggle must be waged with grinding teeth and relentless determination. Her own love for others is concealed in this process of caring, which she never reveals in her life. But she is absolutely determined to assure a secure future for her loved ones. This type of woman talks little and tries to prove herself through deeds. Her efforts are often understood and appreciated by her family only after her passing.20

The last type that I want to discuss I call the woman who is on her way. One of the pre-eminent features of Hungarian life after the Second World War was increased occupational and social mobility for both men and women. The most frequent forms of this mobility were the transmutation of peasants or workers into intellectuals or professionals, and the change of peasants into workers. In most circumstances this transformation brought a more secure economic existence, or at least a higher social status. At the same time, this transformation brought with it the abandonment of the traditional community, and a departure from a long-experienced world of values. Those who underwent the change not only had to learn new skills and new knowledge, but had to formulate a new system of ethical values suitable to the changed circumstances. This was not a simple task. For those who tackled it, a kind of a double value system prevailed. In the workplace or in their profession people quickly learned what was expected of them, but in their private lives they more or less retained their former value system. This double standard applied to the way women envisaged their roles in society. In the workplace they functioned as emancipated women, at home they behaved in a manner learned from their parents. This resulted in the coming about of a dual type of living, interrupted by occasional attempts to abandon it. Women living under the double burden of work outside the home and work within the home at times tried to transfer their emancipated workplace conditions into their private lives. These attempts usually led to serious conflicts. Women waged this struggle with varying determination, since their own unclearlyformulated value system filled them with uncertainties. Most stories describing such situations come from the pen of Erzsébet Galgóczy. She certainly knows the heroic struggles of such women since she herself had travelled this path. The muddling of these women's value systems can be greatly, even tragically exacerbated by their spiritual ambivalence. This process is illustrated by just about every character in Galgóczy's short story Törvényen belül [Within the Law].21

The identifying of different types of human beings is invariably a difficult task. Life always possesses more hues and tones than can fit into a few pre-cast moulds. Nevertheless I hope that I had been successful in etching the most important types of women existing in recent Hungarian literature and, in fact, in Hungarian life. Naturally, I know that the list of women's roles as perceived by them is longer than has been described in this study. After all, it seems that there are as many life-patterns, as many models of behaviour, as there are women. Nevertheless, those illustrated above give us cause for the formulation of a few conclusions.

It seems to be a valid generalization that the image of women's roles held by today's Hungarian women - and perhaps not only Hungarian women - is patterned on models, and is determined by those factors that they had seen in their families and in their inner social circles. These models perpetuate themselves more or less consciously, and as it were, subconsciously formulate an image of their role as wives and mothers. It is not by chance that the children of divorced parents themselves become divorced, as they have not acquired the skills to handle family conflicts and to tolerate the resultant stress, or they have not learned the right methods. These models better serve the purposes of sustaining social conventions than those of developing a more modern pattern of life.

The other important determinant in the formation of women's conceptions of their roles is society itself. Even if very slowly, modern models become accepted by the general public. The concept of the emancipated woman in today's Hungary suggests a glass half empty, but a glass that is being filled. Women are increasingly accepted as equals not only in the workplace, but also in their private lives. There are many examples suggesting that women are learning to function independently and increasingly successfully in business life, in politics, in the arts, as well as in everyday life.22

Social scientists cannot offer exact answers to the questions raised by novelists and authors of other fictional literature. Nevertheless, sociological data do point to a declining willingness to get married, to the increase in the number of divorces, and to the growing proportion of people living alone in Hungary, not unlike in the majority of developed nations. These trends have many causes. Women's quest for emancipation is only one of these and it is certainly not more important than the spread of a post-modern value system with its overemphasis on personal autonomy and freedom.

NOTES

This essay is based on a paper that was delivered at the annual meeting of the Hungarian Studies Association of Canada, at Brock University in St. Catharines, Ontario, in May of 1996. An early draft translation of it into English was produced by Agatha Schwartz and was edited by George Bisztray. The final version of the translation was the work of N.F. Dreisziger in consultation with Marlene Kadar, Agatha Schwartz, and the author.

1 It is beyond the scope of this essay to analyze the nature and extent of state control over the humanities and social sciences in the Hungary of the period. The fact is that, for whatever reason, the communist regime of the time exercised stricter control over what was written by social scientists than by authors of literary works.
2 Pál Lőcsei, ed., Család és házasság a mai magyar társadalomban [Family and Marriage in Contemporary Hungarian Society] (Budapest: Közgazdasági és Jogi Kiadó, 1971).
3 Pál Lőcsei, "A női munkavállalás és hagyományos magyar család" [The Employment of Women and the Traditional Hungarian Family], Kortárs, Oct. 1985.
4 Miklósné Balog [Mrs. M. Balog], "A nők helyzetének és szerepének alakulása a családban" [The Evolution of the Situation and Role of Women in the Family], Demográfia, 1979. 2-3.
5 See for example INFO Társadalomtudomány, 30 (Oct. 1994).
6 László Cseh-Szombathy, "Változások a család működéseben" [Changes in the Functioning of the Family], Társadalmi Szemle, 1980, no. 6; as well as Pál Lőcsei, "A tradicionális magyar család sorsa századunk második felében" [The Fate of the Traditional Family in the Second Half of Our Century] Mozgó Világ, 1983, 3.
7 László Cseh-Szombathy, "A mai magyar család tipusai és ezek működése" [The Varieties of Today's Hungarian Families and Their Functioning] Jogtudományi Közlöny, 1981, 7.
8 Árpád Göncz, "Magyar Médea," in Mérleg (Göncz Árpád hat drámája [The Six Dramas of Árpád Göncz]) (Budapest: Magvető K., 1990), pp. 5-51.
9 See for emample Boris Palotai, Keserű mandula (Budapest: Szépirodalmi Kiadó, 1977), his Pokróc az ablakon (Budapest: Szépirodalmi Kiadó, 1970), and his A férfi [The Man] (Budapest: Szépirodalmi Kiadó, 1968); also, Anna Jókai, Az ifjú halász és a tó (Budapest: Szépirodalmi Kiadó, 1992), as well as Klára Bihari, A bűnvalló [The Confessor to Sin] (Budapest: Kossuth Kiadó, 1987).
10 Klára Bihari, Csábitó [The Seducer] (Budapest: Szépirodalmi Kiadó, 1968).
11 Traditionally, upon marriage, Hungarian women assume their husband's complete name; that is, Anna Szabó, on marrying János Kovács, becomes Mrs. János Kovács (i.e. Kovács Jánosné).
12 Anna Jókai, Jákob Lajtorjája [Jacob's Ladder] (Budapest: Szépirodalmi Kiadó, 1978), p. 11.
13 In communist Hungary, newlyweds often spent years trying to overcome the red tape involved in finding of suitable accomodation.
14 Old Testament, translated by William Tyndale (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1992), p. 16.
15 On this subject see for example: Heide Göttner-Abendroth, Die Göttin und ihr Heros (Munnich, 1993); Johann Jakab Bachofen, A mitosz és az ősi társadalom [Myths and Ancient Society] (Budapest: Gondolat, 1978); Klaus Rainer Rohl, Az amazonok lázadása [The Revolt of the Amazons] (Budapest: Kossuth 1986); Hans Jurgen Hildebrandt, Die Primar- und Secundarliteratur. Mit einem Anhang zurn gegenwartigen Stand der Matriarchatsfrage (Aachen: Herodot IX., 1988).
16 Klára Bihari, Elvált asszony [Divorced Woman] (Budapest: Szépirodalmi, 1983).
17 See for example Nándor Pálfalvi, Varázslatos Hargita: Sász Endre ifjúsága [Enchanting Hargita: Endre Szász's Youth] (Budapest: Hálózat, 1990).
18 Magda Szabó, Régimódi történet [Old-fashioned Story] (Budapest: Szépirodalmi kiadó, 1978).
19 Ibid., pp. 46-47.
20 Ibid., p. 354.
21 Erzsébet Galgóczy, Törvényen belül [Within the Law], in Ez a hét még nehéz lesz... (Budapest: Szépirodalmi, 1981), pp. 437-574.
22 I did not discuss the problems of women who are single. This theme could serve as the subject of a separate study, as loneliness presents many different faces. In the end perhaps everything depends on whether a man and woman can form a partnership based on equality. Can loneliness be redeemed through wise compromises? Can we find our true partner in the great game of life?