Doina
Ruști

mimicking culture, interest, literature and even love

Ileana Marin interviewing Doina Ruști (2025-02-25)
mimicking culture, interest, literature and even love - Doina Ruști

Dear Doina, what does it entail being a writer in Romania today?

If you are referring to a social function, that’s long gone. A writer who tries to form opinions in people is no longer focused on writing; they become a random individual, taking a stand for everything, literature no longer bearing any importance to them. I don't want to end up like that. For me, literature is part of life, and every novel implicitly expresses my opinion about a certain period, about attitudes and people, etc...

However, you have written novels with a message that verges on political and I will briefly refer to a few books. In Lizoanca at the age of eleven, you managed to depict a shocking perspective of social decay. The novel The Ghost in the Mill is, as Paul Cernat said, “the product of a powerful original prose writer, one of the most convincingly poignant works of fiction addressing the topic of local communism to be published during the last decade.” In The Fiancée, you placed two perspectives (Eastern and Western Europe) side by side and created an impossible love story, and Mother of two chicories represents a cruel mirror image of an exhausted society.

Indeed, my novels are historically anchored, they hide an epically camouflaged ideology. And since you mentioned Mother of two chicories (2013), I should add that I have just prepared its second edition, for the author's series, and, rereading it, I realized that the political stake of the novel is unchanged. It broaches subjects such as adoption and degeneration of authority. From parent to politician – we all go through the same drama, that of the erosion of credibility. And this state of affairs comes from mimicry (cultural, social, political), dominant in the last century, even spreading unencumbered, unperturbed. I’m talking about mimicking culture, interest, literature and even love. During communism, one method of survival was to pretend to be dumber than you were: to appear amazed by the words of the masters, to accept, for example, that women are naturally brainless. Everyone was delighted to interact with a smiling woman who enthusiastically approved of everything. She immediately became a “comrade of ours”. But that status was not one of equality, far from it.

Since you brought it up, you experienced Romanian communism in full. What were you doing back then?

When communism fell, I was 33 years old. So, my youth was swallowed by communism, and I can say with sadness that I was also stuck within the system for a long time. I worked as a high school teacher for almost a decade, because I finished college at 23 years old.

The communist system was made of people trained to use all the nonsense of the communist ideology at their disposal. If a “comrade” from the city administration came and told you You weren’t really teaching the students much! You’d gone to college for nothing; despite your high grades, there, in the “field” you were nothing but a failure! Well, when facing these types of accusations, you weren’t supposed to be scandalized or, God forbid, protest. In these situations, there was a golden formula you had to employ: You are right, comrade, from now on I will “do everything” to live up to the standards of the Party. Well, I just couldn’t comply with such nonsense. Many people knew that you can't sail against the wind, they were smarter than me, they survived and thrived even, held high positions, carried on and advanced socially in post-communism. But this mimicry turned into an epidemic and eventually killed individualities, creativity, and muddled up our values.

I think there is a lot to tell, especially about the communist school. After the fall of communism, did you continue to teach? Tell me a bit about your jobs😊

Initially, I was hired by Humanitas, a newly established publishing house, but not long after that, I continued my teaching career at a high school and, at the same time, at the Faculty of Letters of the University of Bucharest, from where I moved to Media University and UNATC (National University of Theatre and Film “IL Caragiale”). I went through all the academic stages, specializing as a university professor of history of universal culture and civilization for film. I held many administrative positions (dean, department director, editor of the Cinematographic Art magazine), I have collaborated with many film companies, I have made films and I continue to do so. I retired from UNATC in 2019, and since then I have been teaching only one class, that of Creative writing, at the University of Bucharest.

But during all this time of passing through many types of schools, I had the opportunity to see how the communist ideology develops. What happens after the indoctrination periods. What are the actual consequences.

Indeed, Mother of two chicories broaches the consequences of this reality, through the lens of a video camera, which records a downright apocalyptic year: 2012.

The forecasters were right: that year was the beginning of a new era, of a change to which we are contributing right now. In 2012, truth and falsehood were so jumbled that a series of value reversals occurred under the pressure of social media. In just a few weeks, a man who had great chances of being elected president ended up booed, almost lynched. It's a case which, I have no doubt, initiated the transformation of 2012. That was the start of all the other metamorphoses.

Even literature went through this metamorphosis.

Of course. Today's literature also seeps through other areas of aesthetics. The pressing need for topical novels often comes from a general fear of the end of history. I have heard many readers appreciate the literature of the present: they want things that are real, verifiable, and, if possible, happening as we speak, before their eyes. This is a symptom, there have been other periods during which authenticism has reached maximum heights, and this trend also reveals the great loneliness of being. We live in a very noisy time (we’re always in the middle of the crowd – of social media, of street demonstrations), but each of us is alone and most of us are extremely disoriented. A novel about today or about the indubitable reality is often a confirmation of one's own reality.

But you said we were part of a change: what do you mean?

I mean everything. But, in order to stay within the confines of literature, I will say that, first of all, it is the one most affected by this change. We read on the internet, we read fragmentarily, but beyond that, we choose. The selection of information today reaches the highest level in history. However, this is primarily beneficial. It is true, literature is changing, interest in novels is lower. But the reading volume also increased significantly. Even if we refer primarily to the “literature” of social networks, it is still literature and requires a larger number of readers than ever before. Let's not be hypocrites! We all start our day by reading on the internet. We have varied materials at our disposal and are constantly choosing – which I think is a good thing.

Just like your character, Flori, from the novel Occult Beds. She has never read any books, but she graduates high school with flying colors and passes the entry exam to the Faculty of Letters.

Precisely. And that’s not something bad. Nowadays, there are millions of children like Flori, who do not read, but, just like her, have an above average intelligence, find information quickly, reconstruct or anticipate the plot of a novel, etc. And at some point, such a person, raised upon a background of a different kind of information, will find a book of literature written to suit them: Flori happens to come across a manuscript from the 18th century, a story that was written by a human hand, with potential for maximum authenticity, and read this story with passion, with empathy, with genuine interest. It's that exact door that leads to the full universe of fiction! She reads it and the story is creatively integrated into her daily life. It is no longer enough to read; she feels the need to participate, to take part in the process of creation.

I was happy that more than 50 high schools in Romania made trailers for Occult Beds, they embraced the story, reinterpreted it, proving once again that we find ourselves in an era of participatory reading, of continuous creation. I liked the subject of the book.

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFe3z5bLgn8BloBkvHQK2mDdbB_xSqIyp

I also liked what you wrote about Occult Beds in your study from the volume Micronarratives and the City.

Thank you. It is obvious that you are concerned with current affairs, and the novel Occult Beds, your most recent one I think, proves it. How does this tendency square with your writings, not few, about the Phanariot era? You wrote a trilogy (consisting of the novels The Phanariot Manuscript, The Book of Perilous Dishes and Homeric), then two more volumes of stories dedicated to the 18th century, also a critical and commercial success. Perhaps even greater than the rest of your work, most of them award-winning and translated into various languages.

That's true, but I'm not only broaching the 18th century in those. For example, The Book of Perilous Dishes (2022, republished in 2024) is a novel about a magical cookbook, which speaks of many of the general mentalities of man. Then there's the story, which for me is of utmost importance. The characters must evolve, have progressive actions. I still believe in simple diegesis and denouement. However, if they are not anchored in current realities, they turn to dust from the very first page. Likewise, The Phanariot Manuscript brings to the fore the general interest in history. The main character is actually a manuscript, real, discovered by me in a library, and its survival seems to me more amazing than the content, which is also not to be neglected: it is a contract for the sale of a man. I still find this topic relevant.

As far as I know, for several years you have been writing a story every week about the Phanariot world, for the newspaper Adevărul. How are you holding up? Where do you get so many resources?

I asked myself the same questions. During the first three years, I wrote stories set in the Phanariot Century. I was interested in the period, because it was one under Ottoman rule, but with a peculiarity that raises many questions: even though the Turks decided everything, the princes were Christian Greeks, in turn under Turkish domination. However, the Sultan was convinced that it was better to send Christian leaders to the poor Romanian lands, from which he was separated by the Black Sea and the Danube. In many ways, this era was one of reconnecting Romanians to archaic Balkanism and the Greek world, from where all Europeans' resources came. Therefore, yes, I was invested, and I wrote a story every week, until this year, when I started a new series.

So, you're still writing? Weekly still?

https://adevarul.ro/author/1805

Yes, I write a story every week set in the early 1920s, more precisely in the fabulous year of 1923.

What is so fascinating about this year?

It is the year of our best constitution, that of the reunited Romania. It is also the year of the first Romanian fiction film. It’s basically a year of economic growth. And last but not least, it’s the year I live in right now.

What do you mean? Did you teleport?

Sort of, because my next novel is set in this year. It is a romance novel, but also a novel about a year in the life of a legendary singer: Zavaidoc.

Indeed, a singer of whom every Romanian has heard. He had a peculiar way of singing, a squeak of sincere joy. Am I to understand that it is a fictionalization of his biography...?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=HhtPlL3yQWw

Not in the least. It is a novelesque construction, a novel with mysteries and a firm epic thread, a story made up of three perspectives. I won't say more. But whoever has read my books knows that I avoid monographies and simple historical reconstructions. In a way, it is the novel of my meeting with the deep spirit of Romanian song, with Zavaidoc – at the splendid age of youth, when we find that love that stays with us until the bitter end.

What is the name of the novel? And when will it be published?

Zavaidoc in the year of love – that’s the title. The novel will be ready to launch on September 5th, 2024.

I'm looking forward to it, save me a copy.

I certainly will.

Trans. Bianca Zbarcea

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