When literature becomes a panacea

Can novels be used to soothe emotions? Can poems be used to alleviate grief? Can stories be used to redeem the soul? We should not underestimate the healing power of literature on impetuous hearts. Literature can also be a panacea to alleviate and heal the pain of readers.

A small bookstore in Florence, Italy not only sells books, but also prescribes medicine for readers. The healing power of the book and the story in the book are confirmed in this small shop. Each book is accompanied by a guide, which introduces the “medicinal ingredients” of this book in detail, and the corresponding treatment methods. This is a bookstore full of “prescriptions” and a drugstore full of stories.

Anxiety, frustration, loneliness, unfairness, bleak future, mid-life crisis, depression and even stupidity can all be relieved and treated with the help of literature. There is a sad story hidden behind every disease, and every story comes from real life. We only need to choose the appropriate dose and use it strictly in accordance with the “doctor’s advice”.

After the outbreak of the new crown pneumonia, books have become an ideal tool for many people to escape from reality during home isolation. But the purpose of reading is not to become desperate, but to understand clearly what hurts us when the social environment is more heavy than ever. Many people admit that in order to avoid the unsatisfactory reality, they have to resort to a lot of reading. Some people are obsessed with Hemingway’s “The Old Man and the Sea”, and some are attracted by Mark Harden’s “Middle Night Puppy Mystery.” Old classics coexist with new works, and they help readers to alleviate the physical and mental torture and suffering suffered in their own ways.

Debrecen is a big city; in terms of population, it is the second city in Hungary and the first in terms of population. So much for the land description; and we do this only here, and even in the very first place, so that our gentle readers may wish to remember this as they look at the next drawing, and at the same time to excel ourselves from the constant repetition of this.

And we will lead you to the big theater of the great Debreczen, beautiful reader! “To the theater?” You will ask, hanging your beautiful eyes on us in admiration. Permission for this word: theater , which according to the theatrical concepts of the Trans-Tisza world (ie where we Debrecenians have to cross the Tisza) does not seem quite suitable for expressing something where the actors and actresses of Debrecen – I should ask permission here again – and the spiritual after enjoyment, a lewd audience will gather to have fun and have fun. But because there is something about this, albeit unpretentious and invisible because of its modesty, but it is indeed a house , and as in today’s world they are already performing in Debreczencalled the comedy house, you won’t take it in a bad name if we also call it a theater. So we go to the theater with gracious permission.-4-

“Oh, little one!” You will exclaim as we enter the courtyard of the theater. Not the ‘! it’s not that small, I install permission1) as if it were once again so small. Fifty thousand people can’t fit in, but it’s not made to fit it all. For as long as there will be corn and bacon, otherwise cattle and pigs (God forbid, as long as possible and as many as possible!) And until we have such good actors as before: until then, this theater will not crack because of man, and will only grow to hide from fifty thousand people, and to suspect its existence only from a national inscription that smiles at a rickety gate in the thirties with these words towards and above the literate person: “Enter the theater!”

“To other smaller cities, p. Sopron, Košice, Győr have a more beautiful and spacious theater than this boundless Debreczen, ”you will say from time to time. I’m sorry to have to reinstall the indulgence, but we have several comments on these few words. First of all, Debrecen is not limitless ; it is true that it is great, but not limitless. I can even count the gates on the edge of town one by one. Here only the mud is boundless; but even after that the edge, the length, the depth are all infinite. Even then, the comparison with the above cities only favors us Debrecen. These tiny s property-5-in this respect, towns that cannot compete with us begin the work of civilization in luxury and set up theaters with thousands of sacrifices, beautiful and magnificent; however, we launch the ship of civilization (ship and Debreczen) with what is useful, what is needed; not with what is pleasant and what is indispensable. Theater! The whole world knows that we are paving our streets for the first time, because man has obligations to cattle and stray horses, and he cannot rightly demand that he blow out the steam of his life in the middle of the city. . Ad vocem: street paving! the Jews may have been waiting for the Messiah for a long time, but in a hotter, hotter, no remnant of Israel was waiting for it than many Hungarian hearts were to be paved in Debrecen. It’s a shame to worship afterwards! If there can be perpetual snow and ice in our Carpathians, and no one gets up on it: why not have a perpetual locs-pocs in Debreczen? Also, we’re starting a kindergarten, little ones, butfor children and toddlers. We consider it necessary to explain this only so that someone does not understand greyhound puppies, for whom such an institute has recently been set up in a place in our countryside, where there are also occasional human puppies. We will also create a sound association, an economic association, a steam mill, etc., and then, if all this happens, we will build a theater great and for Debreczen. But until that happens, let’s get to what we have,-6- let us return to the present theater, rejoice with the rejoicing.

We can’t go to a lodge because there is no lodge. Hungarian man was born low, I mean he was born glad, he doesn’t like high, except for the gallery, which is ceaseless, moans under man’s burden. Here’s the closed ticket. Where is it to show our place? “Oh! who will always need something else? in whom there is a reality, he will find his locker chair! ”they think, and“ the roar is right! ”the Pórsuhancz in Debrecen would say if you heard our thoughts. And finders, we also open our closed chair because we are vital.

The house is beautiful. Downstairs, people are sitting, standing, hugging each other like a herring in a barrel, and dancing on the ice-cold brick floor, because there is not enough mats in Debreczen to cover a highland city with its borders. Not far from our seat, a long Debrecen arsenal, who happened to come into the side pocket of his winter coat with two orangutan-like hands in his winter coat, now wants to pull them out of his prisons, but now he can curl his elbows at his neighbors’ belly. and the hands, despite a quarter of an hour of operation, remain in statu quo. In the porch that completely surrounds the four-pointed house, a man on his back, no one would believe how many good people can fit in such a small place. But it is also true that one would have tolerated some of the 145-year-old Turks -7-yoke as now in this two-hour rest. Hijab! fate weighed heavily on them with a tin ball arm, and in that case, what can be done other than moaning big, like yawning at the bitter tears of the vest buttons and cracking ears, and blowing a painful sigh out of the pressed cavities of the pressed bosom to the owner of the tin ball arm? to which the men of the porch, and their comrades at similar heights, the heroes of the goddess Kadentia, the poets, marched under such an apron, understood him as such.

But why have so many revered audiences flocked in so many today? It is a rare thing, it is true, that we have a “ crowded ” theater, but today it was possible to predict that it would not be a bad game of reward without any special prophetic talent. Because what did the artist to be rewarded not do to make the house well lined with spectators? Look, Grandma, here’s today’s show, and it promises a lot of “special things.” Here it is that today everything will be visible and audible: music , because Károly Boka’s circle of brown artists, which is very interesting of his kind, will appear on the stage today, to work there; dance so much that a person’s hair is terrified in advance, even for the thought of leg-stretching figures2) ; there will also be recitation , sweating in some modest seclusion and hiding his name in front of the world, otherwise a genius poet-8-his poem will scatter as it was called in 1795 the recitation. What’s more, even plays látandunk is just a short act, and it is only two actor jelenend, but one 7-8 takes a special role, and us enough opportunities to become an actor massive mimic talent staring at our least to doubt not be a Percze , because the roles are in good hands. What else? Well, even marble sculpture stunts will be “taught according to the famous Regenti.” Well! isn’t it enough to awaken Debreczen’s artistic spirit?

So let’s sit pretty quietly, and then only once will the magic bell ring. The gallery bangs and rages, as if a silly stud is locked in a stable above our heads. And indeed there are members on the ground floor who would actually be additional flowers to the wreath of the porch, but who are allowed to reach the ground floor by the particular favor of the garages, and are quite reckless to shout this characteristico-satyricohumoristicus word to the raging army from time to time: “Abrak!” lords counted on the influence of these words, they were very disappointed in their beliefs. Because partly because this witz is a bit worn, it has lost its edge and the punch is on the back of its ears, partly because I am flaming in the upper regions from below.they do not even take the blow that comes as a cowardly force, and they only cry because of the pressure coming from above-9- up: the gallery receives this exclamation of malitiosus with unheard of cold blood, and at most a contemptuous smile, and also “goes to its destined careers, where its strength and tenderness lead.” The gallery is, so to speak, usurped by the local noble student youth.

And here the bell rings once, twice. The porch is approaching to reach the climax of its organ, it expresses its high liking so much. And here, in praise of Debreczen, it is impossible not to note that the walls of his theater are stronger and stronger than the walls of Jericho in the holy former day, than those that a vile trumpet could lay on the ground, even though they cannot be shaken by so many intact lungs.

The curtain rises; luckily he realized what wasn’t always the case.

“Ejnye! to be beaten by God! don’t be so on my back! ”

“Push him down, buddy, that civilian!”

“Kalapot! – hats off! – we don’t see it! ”

“Where should I put? I can hardly find a place even for my ears! ”

“You should not smoke! with the pipe! ”

With these dictations, the game begins, alternately in the porch and ground floor, and begins right at the beginning, rich in speech and action.

“Pszszszt! Novitius deák! Let’s hear it! we hear it! ”adds these to the gallery mentioned above on the ground floor-10-belonging to one of the garasteljesb part of the shouted. And…

“Silent silence sits on the gloomy roofs!”

And the enthusiastic and varied members of the brown circle of artists reach out for their violins, breathe into the trumpet of trumpets, bite into the mouths of their clarinets, and the charms of national music tame bear groups.

And like everything in the mourning valley of this transience, so did the gypsy music. And there was a raging again, there was a throat-power-art experiment in the gallery that bore pleasure; there were tears in the ears and gnashing of teeth among the quiet people on the ground floor. Yes, because in Debreczen the ground floor never applauds, it never makes a statement, unless it sometimes makes public protests against the spits of the gallery (pardon! But I call the child by its name): here the gallery took over the judge. The gallery throws their wreaths, the gallery whistles, we both don’t quite happen rarely. And even then, these applause or dislike statements have an effect! Looks after the prestigious – one might say: Lead-rod – worshiping before criticism actor on the topthey wish to fulfill their zealous endeavor. Well, we don’t want to cut to the right of the gallery, we don’t want to comment on everything we saw and heard tonight. We will only record one or two more peculiarities from this evening’s enjoyment.

During a break between performances, the gallery became bored -11-yourself because then musicians and actors will rest. What to start? He wanted to see something despite the curtain he lowered, and that wasn’t much in itself. Because the curtain is raised – which is done here according to the simplest rules of power engineering – and Keszyné’s appearance takes a minute, you just have to speak, they think. And “Keszyné!” (That was the name of the favorite actress) roars a throat, the flock leading her throat. S After the shout of “Keszyné!” The army unanimously and with increasing noise. On the noise, the curtain rises; the gallery awaits its roar in the immediate silence of the wind, and behold! the director, or rather the bearer of the card, leaves (we don’t even know what we really are, maybe she doesn’t know it), and it means with deep respect that “Mrs. Keszyné is getting dressed and dressed.” A bold thought flashes through the brains of the gallery, and other pleasing thoughts in the wake of the company of ideas. “Not at all! Even better! Let it come out! ”The gallery replied. “Let it come out!” Sounded all ordinary. “Keszyné!” The spinner roared. And Mrs. Keszyn appeared wrapped in a cloak. And the gallery is sorry that Mrs. Keszyn is indeed he was dressed .

One more. In one act, where music was also performed, he notices one of the gallery’s actors, Running, playing the violin behind the scenes. Maybe because the artist was surprised by this hitherto unknown quality; may be because the violin was really remarkable: enough for it, Runner was shouted at the end of the game. -12-However, on his running robe, he stood in a shirt behind the scenes, so he couldn’t step out in front of the audience. However, the gallery does not cease to shout its name; he finally loses his patience, and 4-5 of his members break out of the porch, through the dressing room, onto the stage, and in the unassuming robe of the desperate Runner there, sans gêne et sans compliments à la Baczur are giggled to the audience with their hats on. And Runner drives himself and the gallery “celebrates victory.” – The game is over. We could make jokes with what we saw and heard there, but this is enough.

We entrust the making of the commentary to the presenters to the gentle reader. And Debreczen is surrounded by the gentle spirit of art!