Antal Zirb was able to speak about the human soul by believing in the readers that a forgotten world full of miracles is hidden in everyone. Consequently, anyone reading the works of Antal Zarb might feel special because it seems that he speaks to him exclusively in a secret language that only he and the writer know. This is why all of his works became valuable, as he smuggled his knowledge and worldview into every sentence.
Perhaps this is the ability that guides literature to this day. His death He can promote it even after 76 years. His books, stories, and poems are like the best house agent, if we want, if we don’t want to, he makes us allow the advertised product, and in our case, literature, into our lives.
There are those who read for fun, and there are those who want to enrich their literacy with their readings; But I am thinking of the third reader, for whom reading is a vital function and an irresistible compulsion – only that is the true reader.
This was written by Antal Zarb in the history of world literature. The language, the language he composed, contained combinations of love and humor that could be interpreted universally. He could not write about the love, this feeling controlled every substance. The love of science, literature, architecture, history and language, and love of mankind was the starting point and ambition.
Antal Zarb was born on May 1, 1901, in Budapest. He attended Piarist High School in Budapest, where he began writing under the influence of one of his teachers, Sándor Sík. Early in his career, he would often paddle in poems published in the West, then paddle in the waters of literature, then supplement with his novels and short stories. The Watchtower poem begins as follows, published in the West in 1921:
The last awakening in the last nights,
High from dark sightseeing,
Behold, my name is the keeper of the tower,
And on wooden railings through bends.
In 1930, he wrote his work entitled History of Hungarian Literature for the Transylvanian Helikon Competition, which is one of the most frequently mentioned writings among those who have strayed in his literary career, along with his work History of World Literature, published ten years earlier.
Antal Zerb was hopelessly in love with Clara Lackner, but he eventually married her sister Amelia Lackner, whom he divorced with her for a few years and then married again, then separated forever. Then Antal Zirb fell in love with Clara Ballint, with whom they linked their lives in 1938.
He was a traveler, world-famous, and multilingual person who always remained open and inquisitive. As a result of one of his study trips to England, he wrote his novel The Legend of the Pendragon, published in 1934. The book is a mystical tale, a historical cultural adventure, and a crime thriller that may at times seem like a parody of itself. A sense of humor and intelligence permeates Antal Zarb in every sentence:
Philosophy is so reassuring, I fall asleep from it as quickly as possible. Maybe because I know I run from boredom to sleep.
Many Hungarians here have heard for the first time about the always-smiling Absolut and about the Rosicrucians, who, like Freemasons, meet in secret, and no one knows what they are doing. By the way, the novel was made into a movie in 1974 starring Zoltan Latinovitz and Ivan Darvas.
The fact that Antal Zerb was really able to write about everything in love is no better than the Budapest Guide to Mars, as he was able to present the capital objectively with the admiration of the tourist, but objectively. He nearly embodied the squares and buildings of Budapest in them, so if one read this short-breathed work, one would surely travel through the streets of Pest with a different eye, while exploring Paris by night or resting as a Calvin Square.
Here lives the past, lost love. In the steep Lónyai-utca Valley, in the isolation of the Köztelek-utca seabed, you can make your mark with a stick. Calvin Square appears to have grown enough to wait for hours, as it once did, for someone not to come to this again.
But his eternal novel, The Passenger and the Moon World, is perhaps more famous than the works mentioned so far. It’s hard to explain why this book is someone’s favorite, and why reading can hit someone in the face for the first time, but Mihaly’s story holds a special place among Hungarian book lovers, both on the bookshelves and in their hearts.
The Passenger and the Moon World was probably the first self-improvement book, and that is probably the reason why all people find themselves in it from time to time. It is a book of insights, a discovery of a path, and perhaps an answer to the great secrets about having only eternal adults or teenagers. As children, we still believe that adulthood will come after a certain age, but when the time comes to become one too, we look for the fault in ourselves if that doesn’t work. The Passenger and the Moon World is like the deep air from which everyone stops for a moment, but this is how they are preoccupied with their own fears, which they have to deal with, but from now on they can move forward with greater calm.
We carry the direction of our journey within us, and the eternal stars indicating destiny burn within us.
Antal Zarb converted to Catholicism with his parents in 1907, but due to his Jewish ancestry, the world became more narrow for him after 1940. He was fired from his job, his work was cataloged, and the West ceased to exist. Then he was called into labor service, working first in Pest, then going to labor camp in 1944, first to Fertőrákos and then to Balf. Although his wife and influential friends wanted to escape and save him from certain death, their attempts failed again and again. Antal Zarb was afraid that his desertion or his escape from the camp would be at the expense of his friends and loved ones, so he always remained. His wife stated that his health was unable to withstand the months of work, his condition was deteriorating, while when he could no longer work, he was beaten to death with a rifle rifle. One of his last letters to Clara Ballint concealed a sonnet that almost foretold the tragic end of the writer, poet, literary historian, and translator.
Orpheus in the Underworld
And sometimes the depths of the earth were shaking,
It passes a hundred holes.
He had long forgotten the free moon of Thrace,
While below, a swamp flame flashed green.
And in the depths of the shafts were the green monsters
A long, scaly arm extends towards him,
And the subterranean thunderbolts, the great sword of the sword,
He nailed this damned night.
And Orpheus went asleep.
Learn the great lesson of destruction,
Which made you suffer tormented vertigo,
To the end, a plume shone from day one.
Orpheus turned around and disintegrated
Eurydice as a fabulous white shade.
Antal Zarb He left at the age of 43 Among the living, his body was later exhumed and reburied. Although they did not have a child with Clara Ballint, the woman gave birth to a son a few years after the death of Antal Zarb, whom she raised as if she were her husband’s child. Until his death, Clara Ballint remained Antal Zirb’s wife and was buried with her husband in 1992.
A commemorative plaque commemorating the 120th birthday of Antal Zirb was unveiled at the site of the writer’s childhood home, at 15 Dyak Ferenc Street, on Fashion Avenue / Diak Palace. Writer Anna Gohs praised the event.