THE TASTE OF MOUSE
KHVEDELIDZE BESO
The Taste of Mouse is a short story collection including works written in different time periods by Beso Khvedelidze though as the leitmotiv of the entire collection can be regarded main point of the title story. The Taste of Mouse is the story about the adventure of a young Polish society journalist who finds himself in the epicenter of the Abkhazian military conflict. His extraordinary story from within the conflict zone is narrated in his letters to his mother. The Polish journalist bit by bit becomes a prisoner of circumstances and is separated from his family and his country. In the end, his Georgian fellow military correspondent helps him to do so. He himself, the Georgian correspondent, tells his story in the first person. These two people experienced things at first hand, and overcame all the atrocities of the war. A destructive depression gradually destroys the Polish journalist. Although approximately nine months later, by an imaginative trick of his Georgian friend, he manages to get out from the cruel, merciless bloody arena of conflict. Human relationship and sincere friendship sits above all nationalistic phobias here. It directly reveals the absurdity of all kinds of wars, where nobody is a winner.
EXTRACT
Translated into English by Natalia Bukia-Peters and Victoria Field
THE TASTE OF MOUSE
***
“Hello Mother! I don’t know how to start. I have never written a letter.
I should probably say right away that I don’t know whether you will ever get to read this. Probably not. Because I am writing all this in the black notebook you gave me. Do you remember, you gave it to me last year on my
26th birthday? I recall what you said even now – that this note book is for ‘the truth which you will never reveal to me’. And that’s what’s also written here, inside the cover. But anyway, I am telling you everything, aren’t I? Have I ever had a better listener than you? I want it to be like that way now, but I can’t tell you out loud like I did before. For the simple reason that now there’s a huge distance separating us. Outside, it’s a baking hot August here. And I have the taste of mouse in my mouth all the time. It’s true that I am thousands of kilometres from where you are, but I’m sure of one thing. If radio waves can cover tens of thousands of kilometres, can it be so that these words are less powerful? How else can I console myself? My darling Mother, you probably aren’t well and I expect I appear in your dreams too... and then, I’m sure, you have the same taste of mouse in your mouth. Is it fear that causes that taste? You probably don’t even know where Abkhazeti is. Even if you ask your acquaintances, I doubt anyone there could tell you exactly where it is. They might guess. Africa, Asia, America. Perhaps Europe too. Exactly, it’s in Europe and Asia at the same time! To hell with my journalism, why did I jump for Sir Editor? I am sick and tired of writing all this nonsense. It wasn’t enough to write about Warsaw, Krakow of Katowice. I wanted to be sent somewhere faraway for a serious task. I was ready for work of a different order. I said I would perform to the highest standard. I don’t know what special quality the editor saw in my eyes, but the way he drummed his plump fingers with their rings on the table was a sign that I would be sent somewhere on a serious assignment. I thought he would send me somewhere to the West. There was a festival of felt artists in Antwerp, ‘Metallic’ arrived in Hamburg, the anniversary of Conan Doyle was being celebrated in London. But no! What a leap of imagination to think of such an assignment! When had I ever written about politics? You know full well that I’ve never written a single paragraph about it. And yet Sir Editor said that the President of Georgia was currently on a visit in Moscow and that I had to fly there and meet him. It had been agreed in advance that I should interview him on personal issues and fly back. Or, to put it another way, because that imbecile Magda Iushkoviak got pneumonia in the middle of summer, I had to take over from her. Well, the interview about private matters was not bad. I had conducted a similar interview with the actress Barbara Brylska. Polansky too. Grzegorz Lato. And others. But I have never interviewed a politician, let alone a foreign one. It was even intriguing. Since childhood I’ve been interested in Moscow, that capital of the former Soviet Union which seems to stretch beyond every horizon... (See PDF)
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I should probably say right away that I don’t know whether you will ever get to read this. Probably not. Because I am writing all this in the black notebook you gave me. Do you remember, you gave it to me last year on my
26th birthday? I recall what you said even now – that this note book is for ‘the truth which you will never reveal to me’. And that’s what’s also written here, inside the cover. But anyway, I am telling you everything, aren’t I? Have I ever had a better listener than you? I want it to be like that way now, but I can’t tell you out loud like I did before. For the simple reason that now there’s a huge distance separating us. Outside, it’s a baking hot August here. And I have the taste of mouse in my mouth all the time. It’s true that I am thousands of kilometres from where you are, but I’m sure of one thing. If radio waves can cover tens of thousands of kilometres, can it be so that these words are less powerful? How else can I console myself? My darling Mother, you probably aren’t well and I expect I appear in your dreams too... and then, I’m sure, you have the same taste of mouse in your mouth. Is it fear that causes that taste? You probably don’t even know where Abkhazeti is. Even if you ask your acquaintances, I doubt anyone there could tell you exactly where it is. They might guess. Africa, Asia, America. Perhaps Europe too. Exactly, it’s in Europe and Asia at the same time! To hell with my journalism, why did I jump for Sir Editor? I am sick and tired of writing all this nonsense. It wasn’t enough to write about Warsaw, Krakow of Katowice. I wanted to be sent somewhere faraway for a serious task. I was ready for work of a different order. I said I would perform to the highest standard. I don’t know what special quality the editor saw in my eyes, but the way he drummed his plump fingers with their rings on the table was a sign that I would be sent somewhere on a serious assignment. I thought he would send me somewhere to the West. There was a festival of felt artists in Antwerp, ‘Metallic’ arrived in Hamburg, the anniversary of Conan Doyle was being celebrated in London. But no! What a leap of imagination to think of such an assignment! When had I ever written about politics? You know full well that I’ve never written a single paragraph about it. And yet Sir Editor said that the President of Georgia was currently on a visit in Moscow and that I had to fly there and meet him. It had been agreed in advance that I should interview him on personal issues and fly back. Or, to put it another way, because that imbecile Magda Iushkoviak got pneumonia in the middle of summer, I had to take over from her. Well, the interview about private matters was not bad. I had conducted a similar interview with the actress Barbara Brylska. Polansky too. Grzegorz Lato. And others. But I have never interviewed a politician, let alone a foreign one. It was even intriguing. Since childhood I’ve been interested in Moscow, that capital of the former Soviet Union which seems to stretch beyond every horizon... (See PDF)
In case of using the information, please, indicate the source.