One of my favorite Hungarian writers (among many others from the beginning of the 20th century) is Rejtő Jenő (last name first). He was an absolute genius, which is, as we know, divided by only a very fine line from being crazy. Only very special people like him are able the make the whole world laugh at the most serious issues.
According to the story one night he went home to the mental home where he lived due to his severe neurosis (he was allowed to leave during the day as he was not dangerous). The gate was locked, and in his frustration Rejtő kicked it. The guard appeared immediately and asked him what he was looking for.
“My bedroom.” – he said.
“Are you mad?” – asked the guard.
“Yes, that’s why my bedroom is here!”
In my opinion Rejtő became kind of a sub-culture. There are people who read Rejtő, and there are those who didn’t. Those who did, usually understand each pretty well; and are able to crack up and start laughing hysterically in almost any situation when certain words are mentioned.
It’s a shame that he was killed in a forced labor camp in 1943.
Some of his books are translated into English, I even found one of them on the net. Check it out.
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