A Minor Apocalypse: Analysis of Major Characters

Author: Tadeusz Konwicki

First published: Mala apokalipsa, 1979 (English translation, 1983)

Genre: Novel

Locale: Poland

Plot: Political

Time: Sometime in the not-too-distant future

Konwicki (kohn-WIHTS-kih), the narrator. Konwicki is a famous middle-aged writer living in the Polish capital. Like the actual Tadeusz Konwicki, the narrator is an astute observer of the disintegration of Polish culture and its near-total (in this grim fantasy) subjugation to the Russian giant to its east. Unlike the defiant author, however, the fictional Konwicki is, in his own eyes, an aging, largely passive figure whose best work quite likely is behind him. He abhors the suffocating Russian influence and bemoans the ineffectuality that marks Polish institutions, but he is unsure what part he can or should play in protesting conditions. Thus, when revolutionary friends give him the honor of martyring himself (by burning himself to death) for the cause, his principal reaction is indecision. The very structure of his day-long odyssey around Warsaw (circular and rambling), which composes the bulk of the novel, reflects his indecisiveness, which results not only from cowardice and cynicism (can his martyrdom possibly make any difference?) but also hope. If Konwicki did not have hope that his martyrdom might make some genuine difference, his decision would be an easy one: He would decline the honor. His decision at the end, to go through with the self-immolation, is the best clue to Konwicki's character.

Hubert, a Polish dissident. For his visit to Konwicki, Hubert dresses in his best suit and sports a cane and a “sinister-looking” briefcase. Once, in the past, Hubert had attempted to hang himself because of attacks from his political enemies, but at present he seems a bit too well-fed and complacent for a radical. He is willing to let Konwicki martyr himself, although it is doubtful that Hubert is himself any longer capable of such action. Still, he seems to have some genuine affection for Konwicki and is bothered to the point of physical collapse by Konwicki's objections to Hubert's cheerful suggestion that he martyr himself.

Rysio (REW-syoh), Hubert's companion. Konwicki remembers Rysio as an energetic blond god in his younger days, but in the present Rysio is a dull, uninspired writer who, politically, is little more than a hanger-on.

Nadezhda (nah-DEHZH-dah), also called Hope, a dissident. Nadezhda gives Konwicki specific instructions for carrying out his martyrdom. More important, being from Russia, Nadezhda affords Konwicki, through his conversations with her, the opportunity to address any number of issues concerning Russian-Polish relations. More important still, being a beautiful woman, Nadezhda evokes from Konwicki pangs of lust, reminding him of his humanity and how much potential beauty and pleasure he is giving up by his martyrdom.

Tadzio Skorko, a young man from the provinces. Tadzio accompanies Konwicki during much of his rambling around Warsaw. He seems at first an almost pathetically and naïvely ardent admirer of the famous writer. Strangely enough, this impression is not entirely eroded when Konwicki discovers that Tadzio is really a police informer.

George, Ryzio's brother, a propaganda head. George represents the Pole who has “sold out” to the other side. He is intelligent enough to know that his position is not entirely ethical, yet, like a good bureaucrat, he is energetic in defense of himself and the bureaucracy that he represents.

Kobialka (koh-bee-AHL-kah), Konwicki's neighbor. Kobialka demonstrates for the hesitant Konwicki that even in the ineffectual society of fallen Poland one can take a stand. He in effect martyrs himself by removing his clothes on television and attacking the Polish-Russian system.

The chief, a member of the secret police. Along with his assistants, this torturer is not the maniacal, mustache-twirling villain of grade-B films but is typical of the Eastern European view of the bureaucracy. Even in the middle of torturing Konwicki, the secret police officers are all slightly bored, rather friendly, and generally ineffectual, like the bureaucracy they represent, less evil than banal.