Konwicki was aware of the delicate matter of subjects taken up in the book and how they can be received. That’s why he 'apologized', but – as a great ironist – with typical modesty:
I am generous and kind-hearted by nature. That’s why, in this book, I wanted to show some literary rapaciousness, attacking a few innocent and respectable people. I am ashamed and I am sorry.
Modern literary critics interpret the Calendar as a contemporary silva rerum – a literary genre shaped in the Renaissance and Baroque eras - but for an average reader it’s a typically postmodern mixture of styles, genres and poetics, which form a cohesive, original whole. Thanks to Konwicki’s mastery, the Calendar is a literary hodgepodge written in the first person. The writer invites the reader to play a game of dividing truth from fiction, whether he writes about his toxic relationship with his cat Iwan, relates a journey to China, or gives a lecture about the culture of vodka drinking.
As it often happens in a diary, there is as much intimacy as the author allows. And this he does – in a way – out of spite, without revealing his aim. A diary, as we know, can’t exist without piquant erotic scenes. Konwicki promises them to readers, seduces them with a perspective of debauched, yet shameful moments. Surprisingly, though, he “changes his mind”. As we read:
It’s night already. Even the neighbours are asleep. I have no time to twaddle about this. You can’t rush when talking about things that need precision and details. Let’s wait until the morning.
A few pages later he returns to the subject, unceremoniously writing about… onanism. But this is a trick as well, since the author turns masturbation into a metaphor of the politics of the time.
The Calendar and the Hourglass is a carefully planned project of literary self-creation, similar in this aspect to Gombrowicz’s Diary. Konwicki writes about himself even when he writes about others. His porte parole is an egotistical narcissus, putting on different masks from commedia dell’arte. He analyses and criticizes himself all the time, only reluctantly turning his attention to someone else. Even when he talks with God, he talks to himself, and always in a way for the reader to hear every word. The style of the Calendar – often baroque, filled with pathos and pomp – fits this tactics. This is what turns this prose into a sort of poem, in which one metaphor chases another, unravelling as in a fugue. One must remember, though, not to treat everything too seriously. Konwicki thought of his silva as an experiment with ironic form, as a mechanism, generating sarcasm and ridicule. But no unnecessary cruelty. Konwicki’s irony is intellectually refined, 'British' in a way – it hits its target hard, but never kills.
The Calendar and the Hourglass is the first 'lie-diary' (łże-dziennik) in Konwicki’s career. Afterwards he also wrote Moonrise, moonset, New World Avenue and Vicinity and A Pamphlet on Myself. With time, the writer started to abandon the novel and focus on this genre. Today the author of The Minor Apocalypse is considered a classic, many younger authors – such as Pilch and Stasiuk – are inspired by his ideas, and the type of diary he created is discussed at universities. Suffice to say, the book with Iwan the cat on the cover is now read not because of gossip, but because of its impact on Polish literature.
Author: Jakub Nikodem, December 2014, translated by N. Mętrak-Ruda, November 2015.
Tadeusz Konwicki
The Calendar and the Hourglass ('Kalendarz i klepsydra')
IV edition
Czytelnik Publishing House, Warszawa 2005
123x196 mm format, hardcover
364 pages
ISBN 83-07-03015-3