Satanic Tango

In the endless rain and suffocating mud, they follow a prophet risen from the dead to lead them to salvation... or to oblivion. In a deserted village somewhere in the Hungarian wastelands, time seems to have stood still. The last handful of inhabitants resignedly drown their hopeless lives in mutual hatred and cheap alcohol. Their empty days pass apathetically, one after the other, until an unbelievable rumour spreads among them like a destructive fire: Irimiás is back! A man everyone considered dead. A charismatic liar, a false saviour, and a master of manipulation. Does the return of the supposed messiah represent their last chance for a new beginning, or just a cruel twist of fate meant to break them for good? This mesmerising narrative slowly envelops the listener in endless sentences until they realise that there is no escape from this post-apocalyptic world where the line between reality and hallucination is blurred. And that beneath the veneer of nihilism, a cruel but brilliant humour glimmers, mocking human stupidity and our innate desire to be deceived rather than face the merciless truth. This is the exceptional debut and flagship work of the Hungarian Nobel Prize in Literature laureate, earning him a place alongside his favourite writers, the Central European greats Franz Kafka and Robert Musil. The extraordinarily evocative prose (and, according to some, a prophetic vision) received a masterful film adaptation in the form of the eponymous seven-and-a-half-hour film, directed by the renowned filmmaker and the author's close collaborator, Béla Tarr.   “A novel of unprecedented depth, captivating and offering a pure reading experience.” – from reader reviews on Databazeknih.cz “So breathtakingly written that I held my breath and devoured line after line. Hypnotic!” – from reader reviews on Databazeknih.cz “Satantango is a compelling dance of a story between human pettiness and the transience of time.” – Medziknihami.sk “A monstrous novel: dense, brilliantly structured, often exhilarating, and presenting a compellingly original vision—but monstrous nonetheless. It is a work so brutal, relentless, and bleak as to be frequently quite funny.” – The Guardian  “And for God's sake, what did she want?” The woman looked bewildered. “She’s gone mad,” she said quietly. “About time,” remarked Schmidt. “She was saying,” Mrs Schmidt continued hesitantly, looking from Schmidt to the intently listening Futaki, “she was saying that Irimiás and Petrina are approaching along the road. Here, to the settlement! And then. That they might already be here in the pub.” For a moment, neither Futaki nor Schmidt could speak. “Said she saw them in town. The long-distance bus conductor.,” the woman broke the silence and bit her lip. “And then, that he. they set off on foot. towards the settlement., in this weather., the conductor saw it when he turned at the Elek crossroads, because his farm is that way and he was going home.” Futaki jumped up. “Irimiás? And Petrina?” Schmidt laughed. “That Halics woman has really lost it. The Bible’s gone to her head.” Mrs Schmidt didn't move. She spread her hands helplessly, then suddenly ran to the stove, sat down on a stool, rested her elbows on her thighs, and buried her head in her hands. “If it’s true.,” she whispered, her eyes shining. “If it’s true.” Schmidt impatiently snapped at her: “But they’re dead!” – an excerpt from the book